TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES - Kobus Marais (Editor) - 2022 - Bloomsbury Academic - 9781350192119 - Anna's Archive
TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES - Kobus Marais (Editor) - 2022 - Bloomsbury Academic - 9781350192119 - Anna's Archive
TRANSLATION STUDIES
Also Available from Bloomsbury
Kobus Marais has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988,
to be identified as Author of this work.
Bloomsbury Publishing Plc does not have any control over, or responsibility for, any third-party
websites referred to or in this book. All internet addresses given in this book were correct at the
time of going to press. The author and publisher regret any inconvenience caused if addresses have
changed or sites have ceased to exist, but can accept no responsibility for any such changes.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress.
To find out more about our authors and books visit www.bloomsbury.com
and sign up for our newsletters.
CONTENTS
3 The ‘carrying over’ and Entanglement of Practices in the Computer Science and
Translation Communities 39
David Vampola
I ndex 246
FIGURES
2.1 Determining the ratio of side and diagonal in a regular pentagon with the
method of mutual subtraction 35
5.1 Schematic transitions from the ‘Bench to Bedside’ (T1) and ‘Bedside to
Practice’ (T2) translational medical research and development model 83
7.1 Borrowing from translation studies to organization studies: Three examples 131
CONTRIBUTORS
Łucja Biel is Associate Professor and Head of EUMultiLingua research group in the
Institute of Applied Linguistics, University of Warsaw, Poland. She is an editor of the
Journal of Specialised Translation. She is also a sworn translator of English and Polish.
She holds an MA in Translation Studies (Jagiellonian University of Kraków, Poland), a
PhD in Linguistics (University of Gdańsk, Poland) and a Diploma in English and EU Law
(University of Cambridge, UK). She has published extensively on legal/EU translation,
legal terminology, translator-training and corpus linguistics.
Xany Jansen Van Vuuren is Lecturer in Interpreting at the University of the Free State,
South Africa, specializing in non-professional interpreting and translation, translation
and ecology, and ecosemiotics. She obtained her BA at Rhodes University, and her MA
at the University of the Free State. She is currently in the process of completing her PhD
dissertation, ‘Non-Professional Interpreters in Animal Welfare: Towards an Ecosemiotic
Understanding of Interaction’.
Kaisa Koskinen is Full Professor of Translation Studies and Head of Languages at Tampere
University, Finland. Her current research interests include the changing landscapes of
translation in society, translatorial practices in different contexts as well as translation
and affect.
Mihai Nadin is Ashbel Smith University Professor at the University of Texas at Dallas,
USA, where he also directs the Institute for Research in Anticipatory Systems. He contributed
to electrical engineering, computer science, aesthetics, semiotics, computational design,
human-computer interaction, post-industrial society and anticipatory systems. He has
a post doctoral degree in computer science and in philosophy, logic and the theory of
science.
Jacobus A. Naudé and Cynthia L. Miller-Naudé are Senior Professors in the Department
of Hebrew at the University of the Free State, South Africa. Their research focuses on
pre-modern Hebrew linguistics, religious translation and Bible translation (both ancient
and modern) from a complexity theoretical viewpoint.
João Queiroz is Professor at the Institute of Arts and Design, Federal University of Juiz
de Fora, Brazil, where he coordinates the Iconicity Research Group – IRG (//iconicity-
group.org/). He has been teaching courses on cognitive semiotics, Peirce’s philosophy,
intermediality studies, and supervised PhD and master’s students in the fields of semiotics,
art & technology and cognitive semiotics. Personal homepage: //semiotics.pro.br. Email:
[email protected]. Orcid: https://orcid.org/0000-0001-6978-4446.
Steve Reid (MBChB, MFamMed, PhD) is a family physician based at UCT with a
background in rural medicine, and an advocate for rural health in South Africa. As such he
is involved in health sciences education and human resources for health, with a vision to
CONTRIBUTORS xi
support medical and health science graduates to become more relevant and appropriately
skilled in Africa. He is also involved in developing the role of the arts and social sciences
in health care through the Medical Humanities within the African context.
Delva Shamley is Head of the Division of Clinical Anatomy and Biological Anthropology
at the University of Cape Town, South Africa. She has a track record of postgraduate
student supervision to PhD level, publications and grant success. External consultancies
include peer reviewing for journals, grant reviewing for the HTA (UK), NRF (SA),
AREF, Flanders Foundation (Belgium) and EDCTP (EU). Her research programme
in breast cancer (REACH) reflects her commitment to the translation of evidence to
practice.
Alexei Sharov graduated from Moscow State University (MSU, Russia), where he
received an MS (1980) and a PhD (1988) in entomology and ecology. He has worked as a
research scientist at MSU, West Virginia University, Virginia Tech, USA, and the National
Institute on Aging (Baltimore, USA). Currently he works as a consultant in Elixirgen
company, is editor in chief of the journal Biosemiotics and editor of the Biosemiotics
book series (Springer). His interests include theoretical biology, biosemiotics, origin
and evolution of life. He has more than 170 scientific publications, including books
Habitability of the Universe Before Earth (2017) and Semiotic Agency: Science Beyond
Mechanisms (2021).
Chris Tanasescu is a poet and computer scientist. His cross-disciplinary research into
world literature, natural language processing, network analysis and performance studies
has resulted in widely cited academic publications, praised computationally assembled
anthologies and HCI-informed poetry collections and awarded intermedia performances.
His project #GraphPoem has been listed as ‘the institute performance’ at DHSI, Canada,
annually since 2019. He is the holder of the Altissia Chair in Digital Cultures and Ethics
at UC Louvain, Belgium, and served previously as Coordinator of Digital Humanities at
the University of Ottawa, Canada.
This volume has its origins in an email I received from Bloomsbury Publishing in May
2018. I was not able to help them with what they were suggesting, but in a return email,
I used the opportunity, on the spur of the moment, to suggest a concept that I had been
toying with for some time at that point:
The agent at Bloomsbury was enthusiastic about such an endeavour and invited me to
submit a detailed proposal.
I initially suggested Alternative Translation as title, but through a process of thinking
and rethinking, we settled on Translation beyond Translation Studies, which, I think,
is much better than our first idea. What do I mean by translation beyond translation
studies? In 2016, Gambier and Van Doorslaer (2016) published an edited volume called
Border Crossings: Translation Studies and Other Disciplines. Their aim was to promote
interdisciplinary dialogue between translation studies and other fields of study – a
commendable aim in its own right. Border Crossings does inquire into practices broader
than interlingual translation, for instance, in the chapters on biosemiotics and game
localization. However, most of the chapters remain focused on interlingual translation and
its relation to other disciplines, or the role that other disciplines, such as computer science,
can play in interlingual translation. While there are, therefore, some overlaps between
this volume and Border Crossings, this volume has a markedly different focus, namely to
explore the nature of the practices that other fields of study conceptualize as translation.
Rather than asking how computer science could contribute to interlingual translation,
this volume is interested in the translation processes or practices in computer science
itself. Put simply, are there things that computational experts do that are not necessarily
called ’translation’, but that are translational, given a particular conceptualization of
translation? Furthermore, if a mathematician, in their practice of mathematics, uses the
word ’translate’ or ’translation’, what do they mean by that? In geometry, for instance,
2 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
I conceptualized this volume based on the lengthy, but not necessarily complete,
argument I made previously (Marais 2019), namely that translation studies conceptualizes
’translation’ mainly as a lingual activity. I did indicate that the field has seen efforts at
broader conceptualizations since the 1990s, but that much of the work on a broader
conceptualization takes place in other fields of study, such as media and communication,
education, arts, music and dance. In the 2019 volume, I proposed conceptualizing
translation from the perspective of semiotics, and this volume is a further exploration of
the implications of that proposal. If it is true that translation is work performed on semiotic
material (which includes, but is not limited to, lingual material), my conceptualization
suggests that different fields of study, or different domains of life, should engage in
different types of translation. These practices of translation might go under the name
’translation’, but they might also not, as my colleague Marlie van Rooyen (2019) found
with news translation. Journalists in multilingual countries such as South Africa do not see
themselves as translators, and they see themselves as writing news bulletins, not translating.
However, it is clear that they translate – interlingually speaking – and when prompted,
they agreed that they translate as part of their bulletin writing. Similarly, a composer who
uses a painting to compose music will not call it a translation or see herself as a translator.
What the journalist did and what the composer did are clearly two different things, but
they have at least one thing in common: They interpreted one (set of) signs and created
another set of signs based on that interpretation. In other words, they translated.
My aim is, therefore, to go beyond the deductive theoretical argument I made in 2019,
to add data, that is, social practices, with which to make an inductive argument about the
meaning of the term ’translate’.1 Making this argument has two implications. On the one
hand, it supports the deductive argument that I made, based on Peirce’s highly abstract
conceptualization of semiotics and translation, and on the other hand, it provides data
that shows that, even in everyday reality, as much as in other fields of study, translation
is, indeed, not only a lingual operation. Put differently, I would like to see what people in
different (scholarly) domains do when they ’translate’ or how they conceptualize the term
’translation’ in their respective domains. The focus is, therefore, on practice and action in
the working lives of people in different (scholarly) domains. As a way in, I asked scholars
from different fields to think and write about what people in that field mean when they
use the term ’translate’ or ’translation’.
As an aside, my initial thinking, that different spaces and times, that is, people and
practices from different cultures and societies, would be relevant to a study like this did
not draw as much attention as I had expected. This might have been due to a bias in the
call, but it might also mean that the idea of ’alternative’ forms of translation is either
overrated/overexplored or underrated/underexplored. What I mean is that Tymoczko’s
(2007) work on de-Westernizing translation studies has led to research on unique
translational practices in different cultures. It is not clear to me at this point in time
whether this search for alternative practices, as instanced by the words used to refer to
translation, has been overexplored or whether it remains underexplored. The volume,
however, does showcase alternative forms of translation space and time in the chapter on
the translation of sacred space, by Naudé and Miller-Naudé, and the chapter on animal
welfare interpreting by Jansen van Vuuren – and perhaps also in the chapter on friendship
by Emmeche. These chapters show that there are, even in the humanities, areas beyond
translation studies that have not been explored.
My interest with this volume is, therefore, to explore further what it means to translate.
First, there are questions about practice. What do living organisms of different species
4 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
do when they translate? What do human animals in different domains of life or different
fields of study do when they translate? Then there are also questions of conceptualization.
Why is translation the word they choose to express the thing that they do? If they do
not use the term ’translation’, are there practices in that field that could be considered
as translational? How do they think about translating, and how do they think about
the relationship between what they call translation and what other fields of study call
translation? What, if anything, do all of these practices have in common?
In the English language, in which I write here, the word ’translation’ is mostly used
to refer to a process of expressing in one language that which was uttered in another
language. In order to start the argument, I randomly chose my unabridged Collins English
Dictionary (Anon. 2006) to have a look at the semantic domains of ’translate’. As expected,
the Collins, first, refers to the process of interlingual translation. However, it then goes
on to list twelve more semantic domains in which the verb ’translate’ is used. The second
domain is merely ’to act as translator’, but from the third domain onwards, it becomes
really interesting. The third possible semantic domain is listed as ’to express or explain
in simple or less technical language’. Now, this domain still assumes language as the
’stuff’ that is translated, but it already assumes something more, that is, cognitive work to
understand and explain. The fifth domain is to ’transform’ or ’convert’. This domain does
not include language and could be any transformation or conversion. In particular, the
dictionary lists this use in the domain of biochemistry, that is, the transformation of the
molecular structure of messenger RNA into a polypeptide chain. Again, this translation
has no bearing on language, and yet it has a very strong reference to information. This
translation process, the dictionary makes clear, entails a transformation of the genetic
information in the DNA, so that it becomes functional in the metabolism of the cell.
A seventh semantic domain refers to space, that is, ’to move or carry from one place
or position to another’. In this domain, language is, again, not included as a necessary
requirement. Anything that can be moved or carried from one position to another can
be translated. Think here of multinational corporations translating their values into the
value system of another country (space), or, as is clear from the chapter on translation in
law in this volume, principles of law that need to be translated into various contexts. In
the parlance of traditional translation studies, this would be forms of indigenization and
localization.
Domains eight, nine, ten and thirteen all refer to the use of the term ‘translation’
in religious contexts, for example, to transfer a cleric from one office to another, to
transfer from one resting place to another, to transfer someone from one resting place to
another and to bring to a state of ecstasy. Domains eleven and twelve refer to the use of
translation in mathematics, that is, to ’move (a figure of body) laterally, without rotation,
dilation, or angular displacement’, and aviation engineering, ’to fly or move from one
position to another’.
I have left out domain four, namely ‘to interpret or infer the significance of (gestures,
symbols, etc.)’. In this domain, language is, again, not a requirement, though the ability to
interpret (non-linguistic) information and infer its significance is required. This is clearly
a semiotic conceptualization of translation that underlies all the other uses of the term,
but I shall return to this argument in a moment.
The first point that I would like to make from this discussion of semantic domains
of translation in the dictionary is just that there is evidence, in the English language in
general, of uses of the term ‘translation’ in different domains. The second point is that
there is evidence, in the English language in general, of the term ‘translation’ being used
INTRODUCTION: WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO TRANSLATE? 5
in domains and in ways that do not refer to or presuppose language. In itself, these
two points still do not make an argument for translation beyond translation studies, but
they do help situate the argument in the history of the use of the English language. In
the English language, in general, the dictionary provides evidence of a history of using
the term ‘translate’ for a number of non-lingual practices – and note that the dictionary
does not mark these as metaphorical uses. I argue elsewhere that, due to processes of
colonization and globalization, the semantics of the terminology used for translation
in other languages does not seem to differ much from that used in English, obviously
with some exceptions (Marais 2021). However, the task for translation studies, to decide
how it will use the term ‘translation’, cannot be based in the popular use of the term,
or even in how other disciplines use it. Defining the term ‘translation’ is the task of
translation studies in which it needs to consider a conceptual perspective from which to
study the process of translation. In other words, what do we need to observe to decide
that something is translation and to study it as such?
Therefore, also recall politicians who promise to translate their policies into better
living conditions for the people, businesspeople who plan to translate their new strategic
vision into more profit for their shareholders and the soccer team captain who declares
that, in the second half, the team should translate its scoring opportunities into points.
Then, also recall the plethora of trans- and inter- terms in a variety of fields of study
(Marais 2019: 3–4). I am referring here to words such as ‘interart’, ‘transfiction’,
‘intersemiotic’ and ‘transmedia’, but also to terms that do not include the trans- or
inter-, such as ‘resemiotization’, ‘tradaptation’ and ‘remediation’. While not denying the
difference between them, I would like to know what, if anything, all of these examples,
from the dictionary onwards, have in common, and how, if at all, they help us understand
the term ’translation’? Put differently, what are the family resemblances between the
practices designated by the term ‘translate’ (Tymoczko 2007)?
In traditional translation studies, the interlingual translation between two languages
is regarded as ‘translation proper’. The field does provide for two other ‘types’ of
translation, namely intralingual and intersemiotic translation, but many of the semantic
domains and examples I provided above are usually regarded as ‘metaphoric’ uses of the
term ‘translation’. The argument is that these metaphorical uses of translation are not
really translations. Rather, people just use the term in a metaphorical way to express some
kind of change.
I have argued elsewhere (Marais 2019) that this distinction between the ‘proper’ and
‘metaphorical’ use of the term ‘translation’ cannot hold in translation studies. If one
started off with a semiotic conceptualization of translation, it means, according to Peirce,
that the meaning of any (system of) sign(s) is its translation into any other (system of)
sign(s). Pattee (2001; 2007) presents a strong argument that this translational ability has
its foundations in the very basic epistemic cut that arose with life. What he means is that
the moment an organism is able to observe, the observation and the thing observed are of
two different orders. Elsewhere, I argued that translation, or the epistemic cut à la Pattee,
starts with the membrane, that is, the basic binary distinction between self and not-self.
This conceptualization assumes and makes clear that meaning is not a substance or a
form or a thing. Rather, meaning emerges in processes of creating relations. Meaning ‘is’
translating. Meaning ‘is’ creating relations between signs, whether new or conventional.
This would mean that ‘translation’ or ‘to translate’ is a term that applies to all processes
that, in some way or another, involve meaning-making and meaning-taking. Meaning is
made by translating signs into other signs. Meaning is interpreted by translating signs into
6 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
signs. What I propose, therefore, is that all of the meaning-making processes discussed
above do, indeed, have a translational aspect to them, in that they involve a process
of turning signs into other signs. This process of ‘turning signs into other signs’ is the
family resemblance that all semiotic processes share – and is the perspective from which
translation studies considers all of reality. Wherever a sign is turned into another sign, a
translation process can be identified and studied, no matter the domain or discipline in
which this happens.
But what is meaning?, you could ask. What are we after when we translate? Meaning
is taking one thing to stand for something else. Meaning is extended and embodied
cognitive work, done to infer the relevance or significance or consequences of any
observed or conceived phenomenon for the interpreter. Meaning relates to inferring
what the implications or significance of anything is for the interests of the interpreter;
that is, as Pattee said, it starts with the basic epistemic cut assumed by observation. If
I observe a lion, the meaning of this lion is an array of significances that I could infer from
its presence. I could, for instance, infer danger to my life (if I saw it in the wild), or I could
infer a sociocultural set of practices of keeping lions in captivity (if I saw it in a zoo). In
addition, I could also infer the significance of non-material phenomena, like my dreams
or my ideas. If I act on my ideas about democracy, for instance, would it be good for me
and the people around me, or not? I explained elsewhere how significance is related to
the interest of the organism and, therefore, always normative, and how this significance
can grow in complexity, from a choice to eat or being eaten, to a large and complicated
cognitive system like ‘the law’ (Marais 2019).
So, when someone asks me what the lion means, I can explain what it means to me
or I could imagine and explain what it would mean to this or any other person; that
is, what I inferred from it in a particular context, by constraining the material in my
environment that would create another sign for the person who asked me. I constrain the
material in my environment when I speak by constraining the airflow through my throat,
by controlling my vocal cords, my tongue, my lips, etc. in order to create sound patterns
that would travel through the air, cause a disturbance in the hearing mechanisms of the
person who asked the question, be transformed into electrochemical impulses in her brain
that would cause her to translate my signs into ideational signs in her mind. Should she
want to respond, she needs to materialize her ideas, perhaps in writing this time, where
she takes an instrument that causes a difference against a background (black ink against a
white page), which then causes a disturbance on my visual apparatus, etc. ad infinitum. In
other words, my thoughts are translations of previous thoughts, but my communication
of these thoughts is also a translation, namely turning the thoughts into sound waves or
patterns of ink on paper.
The conceptualization above means that any and all processes in which meaning is
created or interpreted entail a translational aspect. I need to be clear here. The implication
of this conceptualization is not that everything is translation. This would indeed be wrong,
because it would be an extreme case of reductionism. Rather, what I think the implication
of this line of thinking is, is that all meaning-making processes entail a translational
aspect, in other words, signs being explained by other signs. This means that when the
mathematician writes an equation (or any other mathematical text) based on the story
that John had two apples and Peter had two apples and Suzy had two apples, and that
they wanted to know how much money they would make if they pooled their apples and
sold them at five rand apiece, the writing of the equation entails a process of translation.
I am not claiming that it ‘is’ a process of translation or that it is a translation. It is, also and
INTRODUCTION: WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO TRANSLATE? 7
perhaps foremost, mathematics, but what happened is that the verbal narrative in some
way became the equation or became represented by the equation or became subsumed in
the equation. The process through which this happened is a translational process, that is,
turning a system of signs into another system of signs.
So, then, what is translation, or what does it mean to translate? In my view, translation
is work performed on semiotic material in order to constrain the material to a particular
difference that makes a particular difference (Bateson 2002; Marais 2019). Perhaps the
‘particular’ in the previous sentence is too strong. One translates to make as much of
a particular difference as one wants to, or as one is able to. In other words, the nature
of the constraints one imposes on the semiotic material depends on the intention of the
constrainer, and also on the affordances of the semiotic material, for example language,
film or a computer screen. Obviously, this difference needs to be interpreted, but this
interpretation is, again, done by performing work on the semiotic material at hand,
in order to constrain it to a particular difference that makes a particular difference.
Translation is, thus, processes of meaning-making and meaning-taking, and these
processes entail the imposition of constraints on the semiotic material. Any sign vehicle,
the representamen in Peircean terms, is mere potential. It does not have meaning, only
meaning-potential. It needs to be translated into another sign to be understood. This
translation process entails constraining the meaning-potential of the representamen
to an intended, limited range of possibilities. Note that Merrell (1997; 1998; 2003)
argued convincingly that the possibilities can never be limited to one possibility only,
but that is a story for another day. Let us look at an example, our lion from the example
above. A representamen, like the word ‘lion’ in a dictionary, has a plethora of meaning
possibilities – and potentially an unlimited number of meanings that can still be created.
However, if I see this word at the entrance to a zoo, many of the possibilities have been
eliminated by the context. If I then have to explain the meaning of lion to a three-year-
old who has never heard of or seen a lion, I will need to translate the word ‘lion’ into
something that is relevant both to the three-year-old and to the context of a zoo. I can,
for instance, translate the word ‘lion’ into ‘very large cat’, but I will also immediately add
that this very big cat is in a cage or a camp, so it is not dangerous to go and have a look
at it. What I have done throughout this process is to translate by imposing constraints
on existing semiotic material. Where are the constraints? Well, they are based on the
inferences that I make and materialized in the words that I then choose to use, as well
as the words I choose not to use. By saying ‘very large’ cat instead of ‘very dangerous’
cat, I constrain the meanings that I would like the three-year-old to infer. This does not
mean that she cannot infer something other than what I intended, but it does mean that
I tried my level best to guide her towards my intention. Translation is, therefore, work
that imposes constraints on semiotic material, based on the inferred significance of a
representamen in a particular context.
Some readers might object, and claim that translation is about creativity, not limiting
possibilities. I would agree, but when we start asking about creativity, we see that creativity
is the imposition of different constraints, not the absence of constraints. Nothing in
the universe emerges without some constraints operating on it, and this holds for the
semiosphere (Lotman 1990; 2005) or our social-cultural reality as well. Queiroz and his
research team have done a great deal of work to explain how new sets of constraints give
rise to creativity, and how intersemiotic translation triggers creativity through the work
of new sets of constraints (Aguiar et al. 2015; Ata and Queiroz 2016; Queiroz and Ata
2019; 2020).
8 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
The next question is, then, so, what is it that is translated? We know that matter
cannot be translated. You cannot translate colour pigment into sound waves, though you
can translate some meaning you inferred from the colour into sound. Deconstructionists
have also shown that, according to their logic, you cannot even translate certain words
into other words. So, what is it that gets translated? To answer this question, one has
to ask about interpretation. How do we form interpretants? We form interpretants by
inferring the relevance of the set of constraints that apply to the sign we are interpreting.
My conceptualization suggests that it is this set of constraints that applies to a particular
sign (system) that is translated. Let us try an example. What is the difference between a
sonnet and a short story? One could write a sonnet and a short story in which you used
exactly the same words and the same number of words in both. This means that the
material of which they are made, that is, printed words on a page, is exactly the same.
What does differ are the constraints that apply to the two genres. What does differ are
the relations between the signs that result from these constraints. I am talking here about
constraints in number of lines, number of verses, rhyme, rhythm, etc. This relatively
simple thought experiment should be sufficient to show that materiality will always
be one of the constraints imposed on signs, but it is not the material of the sign that
needs to be translated. Even the ‘meaning’ of a sonnet is not something, but a process of
interpreting sets of constraints. What is translated is the inferred relevant or significant
(set of) constraints.
Can these sets of constraints be copied? This question is sacrilege in traditional
translation studies, and rightly so, because we know that meaning is created, not
transferred. However, if you want to conceptualize a semiotic theory of translation, you
need to consider the wide variety of living organisms that partake in sign-making and sign-
taking action, and you need to think about the complex array of semiotic activities within
the human species. For instance, in geometry, the process of performing transformative
actions on geometrical figures would result in an exact copy of the incipient figure, just
in a different space. In biology, particular sets of constraints in plants, for instance, can
be extracted from DNA and imported into other plants, which then show the same
characteristics as the incipient plant, for example, resistance to pathogens. So, in a
broadened conceptualization, copies seem to be possible. In by far the greatest number
of cases, however, copies are not possible. This seems to imply a conceptualization of
translation that argues that the overwhelming majority of translations entail change, but
that not all translations entail equal amounts of change. So, when a bacterium senses
the difference in sugar gradient in a solution and swims towards the higher gradient,
this ‘interpretation’ is much more of a ‘proto-interpretation’ compared to when scholar
A tries to make an argument about the relevance of scholar B for their field of study.
As Eco (1979) says, the litmus test for semiosis is lying. If something can deceive, it is a
sign. If something can be misinterpreted, it is a sign, but that does not mean that all sign
processes are equally complex.
The argument in the previous paragraphs does, however, warrant clarification. I would
claim that, in some instances, reference can be copied, like the geometric one above.
However, significance, I suggest, cannot be copied, because, with significance, you are
in the domain of pragmatics, and pragmatically speaking, no two sign events can be
the same, that is, one a copy of the other. Let me explain. Following Deacon (2013),
I conceptualize reference as aboutness. One physical system can reference another, can be
about another, in the sense that the differences between two systems could be the effect
of work that was done. In this sense, the one system is about the other. For instance, the
INTRODUCTION: WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO TRANSLATE? 9
difference in temperature between water in the bath and the air in the bathroom refers
to or is about the work that was done to heat the water. So, purely physical systems refer
to or are about other systems. Significance, however, is the relevance of this reference,
that is, the relevance of difference, for a living organism. While the two triangles in
geometric translation have the same reference, they do not have the same significance. In
a mathematical argument, they do not play the same role. One is the original, the other
the translated. Because of the second law of thermodynamics, and the resultant arrow
of time, no two semiotic events can be copies of one another, pragmatically speaking, it
seems. The complexity of the relationship between incipient and subsequent sign systems
in the translation process is based on the argument that some, but not all, constraints
can be replicated. Furthermore, some constraints can be replicated fully, though most
constraints cannot. This leaves us with translation as a complex process of interpreting
constraints, selecting constraints, re-forming constraints, adapting under the influence
of constraints, considering new constraints and then, under the influence of relevance,
imposing a particular set of constraints on the available semiotic material in order to
constrain the next phase in the never-ending process of translation.
Can significance be translated? Yes – and no. A warning shout in Afrikaans can be
translated into a warning shout in IsiZulu. So, the pragmatic constraints can be translated,
and pragmatically, the interpreters of both shouts would be able to turn on their heels and
run away. Does this mean that both interpreters created exactly the same meaning? No,
but it does mean that there was pragmatically enough similarity to elicit a pragmatically
relevant response. It seems that we need a complexity approach to translatability, one
that can account for different types of translations at different levels of complexity. The
chapters in this book provide ample evidence of these differences.
Conceptually, I hope to have presented a framework that allows one to study
translational phenomena wherever and whenever they occur. The chapters that follow
provide arguments and data from at least eleven different fields of study or disciplines.
These chapters explain the ways in which the term ‘translation’ is used in those fields,
and consider what use in that field contributes to a broader understanding of translation.
The implication of these chapters is a, hopefully growing, third audience, to which
I referred above, looking to study reality from a transdisciplinary perspective, looking for
communication between communities of practice and discursive communities, looking to
study both difference and similarity.
The first chapter on mathematics demonstrates how mathematics, first, entails a
process of translating real-life narratives or observations into the formal language of
mathematics. This is a process of translation because mathematics is the formalization of
non-formal interpretants. In other words, each mathematical equation or formulation is
based on an incipient system of signs that was not mathematical in itself. Nadin does not
address the problem of translating mathematical language back into natural language or
even practice, for example for engineers, but it is implied as a translational problem. The
chapter then discusses a second translational movement in mathematics, which actually
links strongly with the next chapter on computer science. Nadin argues that what he calls
‘ontology engineering’ is a next step in the translation process, in that mathematical
equations and even real-life narratives have to be translated into the formal language
upon which computers operate.
In his brief chapter on translating between geometry and arithmetic, Hoffmann
shows how translation is practiced within mathematics, between two branches of
mathematics. His data illustrates how this kind of translation process contributes to a
10 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
clearer understanding of the problem at hand, but even more important, leads to the
emergence of new ‘cultural forms’, in this case, new proofs in mathematics. In this
sense, his work supports the idea of translation as negentropic semiotic work, and it also
provides evidence of the value of communication between different semiotic systems, that
is, interdisciplinarity.
In his chapter on translation in computer science, Vampola regards the dialogue
between translation studies and computer science as itself a translational process,
and he points to the inter- and transdisciplinary implications of this volume. He then
lists a number of ways in which computer science can expand translation practice,
for example, through trans-organism translation between different earthly organisms,
and also through trans-organism translation to facilitate communication with aliens.
He adds trans-organic translation, namely understanding viruses, which is particularly
relevant as we find ourselves in the Covid-19 pandemic as this volume goes to press.
Vampola also suggests trans-humanism and what he calls ‘transmission’ translation
that generates human-machine assemblages and the communication between them.
He also discusses transduction, or the generation of electrical impulses that allows
communication between machines and their environments. He closes by referring to
transformation, or issues of visualization of information and other interpretive acts,
as well as trans-science translation that considers the role of expertise in decision-
making processes. All of the categories that Vampola suggests take translation beyond
translation studies’ ideas about ‘translation proper’. To be sure, he does not deny the
possibility of translation proper, but he shows us translational practices far removed
from or beyond translation proper.
The chapter on translation in biology expands the notion of translation both ‘upwards’
and ‘downwards’. Upwards, it shows that the sustainability of any ecology requires
translation processes, whether that ecology includes humans or not. Sharov’s ideas
link up with Cronin’s (2017) notions about a tradosphere that allows one to look at
translation processes in large ecologies. Downwards, the chapter on biology shows that,
at the levels of molecule, cell and organism, a wide variety of processes, which could be
called translational, are at play. The data in this chapter makes it clear that translation is
not interlingual only. In fact, interlingual translation is but a small part of translation. The
more the sciences (natural, social and human) move away from a mechanistic, atomistic
and substantive worldview, the more they will need a conceptualization of translation to
explain the emergence of organisms, ecologies, societies and cultures.
The chapter also raises the question whether a ‘unified’ translation studies is possible.
Do we have to live with the fact that different fields use the term in somewhat different
ways, or do we need to work towards conceptualizing what all of these uses have in
common, without denying or diminishing the differences between them?
In the introductory section to their chapter on biomedicine, Reid and Shamley already
expand the notion of interlingual translation when they talk about knowledge that has to
be translated into practice in a context foreign to where the knowledge originated. Not
only are they right in calling this kind of practice a translation of scientific knowledge but
they are also right in their hunch that various aspects of knowledge entail translational
activity. This translation is clearly not a metaphor but a reworking of knowledge to be
significant in the context. They conclude:
All of these issues can be regarded as failures of ‘translation’, in that while effective
remedies may exist in the form of drugs or treatments, they are surprisingly frequently
not found to be effective in the complex realities of people’s lives.
INTRODUCTION: WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO TRANSLATE? 11
The authors also clearly point out the complexity of the translation process, whereby
findings under controlled experimental conditions cannot be replicated in real
populations, because the experiment tested form-limited variables and reality seems to
present more variables than the tests provided for. In addition, they delve into the political
implications of biomedical translation, where healthcare workers at grassroots level are
often the translators of policy through the way in which they take decisions. Lastly, their
insight into the requirement of ‘back translation’ in biomedical research raises interesting
questions about entropy and negentropy.
While the authors in the chapter on translation in law focus on inter- and intralingual
translation, they acknowledge and briefly explore the role of intersemiotic translation
in this domain. The data on interlingual translation clearly shows the same kind of
borrowing taking place in law, through translation, as can be seen in cultural growth.
Legal experts acknowledge that borrowing law cannot be as simple as the term ‘legal
transplant’ suggests, leading them to talk about legal translation to indicate the way
in which legal concepts are adapted and incorporated in legal systems where they did
not originate. The discussion by Biel and Doczekalska on multilingual drafting and its
negative view of translation supports the argument that the nature of the translation
process, though always following the same underlying pattern of a sign being interpreted
through another sign, is determined by the social power that constrains them.
The authors bring to the table another interesting translational phenomenon when they
discuss intralingual translation in law. They refer to the difference between the language
in which laws are written and the language in which commentary about law is written.
These two sets of language use are translations of one another. They also show how laws
are translations of policies and how the law grows through translational processes. They
show legal drafting, the harmonization of law, legal transposition and the application of
law as forms of translation that occur in the legal domain, but which are ordinarily not
studied as ‘translation’ in translation studies.
While the reference to the monolingual English character of organization studies by
Tietze, Piekkari and Koskinen is relevant, this chapter on translation in organizational
studies contributes valuable insight into the point that translation can never be purely
interlingual. Its findings are supported by work such as that by Footitt (2017) in
development studies, which points out the illogical action of working transnationally
without any regard for differences in natural language. Translation studies will need to
acquire the ability to study practice and organization and structure in terms of semiotic
work in order to understand that culture/society is a woven web of not only discourses
and languages but also practices and institutions and structures, which are all semiotic
phenomena. To be blunt, what this chapter suggests is that organization, politics, sport,
the economy, agriculture, etc. all entail a translational aspect, the creation of meaningful
interpretants, that should be studied in translation studies. So, how does one, theoretically,
allow for the translation of values unless you reduce values to the language that names
the values?
In a chapter with strong links to the one on computer science, Tanasescu and Tanasescu
present a cogent argument that the materiality of the literature that is translated is
constitutive of the literature itself. In other words, the fact that literary texts in the digital
domain are no longer ‘different books’ means that the distinction between source and
target texts tends to disappear. The mere nature of the digital technology weakens the
difference between source and target texts because there are no longer ‘two books’, but
just a web of texts.
12 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
Their argument that literature in the digital domain partakes in four translations,
namely translinguistic, transcoding, transmedial and transcreational, is also relevant to an
understanding of translation. It clearly implies that the medium in which the literature is
written forms part of the translation process. Literature is, thus, not merely disembodied
ideas travelling between cultures (when interlingually translated); instead, the meaning
of the ideas is irreducibly tied into the materiality of the medium in which the writing
takes place. They point out, furthermore, that the interactive nature of (much of) e-lit also
entails a translational aspect. The literature could be co-produced, which questions the
notion of the translator or author as the lone ranger who is an isolated genius.
Emmeche writes about the cultural notion of friendship. His grounding in Peircean
semiotics allows him to demonstrate clearly how practices, habits, action and perceptions
are subject to translation. Emmeche provides a large amount of empirical data to show how
translational processes work across cultures and across epochs, aiming for ‘a taxonomy
of Ts forms’. A particularly powerful example from this chapter is that Matteo Ricci, who
translated Aristotle’s work on friendship into Chinese, dressed himself as a Confucian
and not as a priest, in order to find acceptance in certain social circles. In other words, he
translated his appearance into another sign assemblage, which meant something different
and made him acceptable.
Naudé and Miller-Naudé suggest that a multimodal approach to religious translation
could unify religious studies. Their argument is that the different aspects of the domain
of the sacred should be seen as a complex, and held together by translations between
different semiotic systems. In a fascinating chapter, they explain how the experience of
something sacred is itself a translational process. Equally, sacred spaces are translations
of conceptualizations of the sacred. For instance, the architecture of sacred buildings
is a translation into space of the cosmogony of that religion. Naudé and Miller-Naudé
supplement their argument with data from both Ancient Israel and First-Nation South
Africa. They discuss both the sacred spaces as represented in the Hebrew Bible and the
rock paintings of the Eland San. They show how multimodal translation could provide
insight into the conceptual world of extinct oralate cultures. In summary, they show us a
world perfused with acts of translation.
Jansen van Vuuren considers translation between human and non-human animals. In
order to make this argument, she considers the conditions for communication between
species. For a biosemiotic argument about translation, one needs to have a theory of
translation that is not limited to language, and which leads one to a semiotic theory of
translation as the only solution. Her discussion of ecosemiotics and Umwelten clearly
takes translation studies into the realms of biology and ecology, making it clear that all
living organisms interact with their environment through semiotic processes. As indicated
earlier, these interactions are obviously not all at the same level, which actually strengthens
the argument that not all translational processes are exactly similar. Translations between
plants cannot be said to be similar in all respects to translations between animals, which
cannot be said to be similar in all respects to translations between humans.
Queiroz, Vitorio and Fernandes present an overview of the debates about translation
in intermediality studies. It is clear from their review of the literature that intermediality
studies does not limit their conceptualization of translation to inter- or intralingual
translation. Rather, they operate very clearly within a paradigm of thought that assumes,
correctly in my view, that all communication shares in multiple media and multiple
modalities. While some of the approaches seem to be irreconcilable, which would not
be an abnormal state of affairs in any field of study, scholars in intermedia studies show
INTRODUCTION: WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO TRANSLATE? 13
a commitment to media and modes. One of the problems that is represented in the
discussion could be the difficulty of clearly talking about different modes and media,
and what one’s point of entry should be (if there should be only one?). This field, which
shares an interest with traditional translation studies in novels, narratives, subtitles and
so on, has moved much further than traditional translation studies in understanding that
all meaning-making and meaning-taking entail multiple media/modes, even though the
distinction between medium and mode is still debated.
This chapter on intermediality closes not only the section on translation beyond
translation studies in the humanities but also the volume on a note that signals the
beginning of an investigative trajectory, rather than a note that signals reaching a destiny.
For the authors in this volume, I suggest, the trajectory they started here leads to a future
in which the concept of ‘translation’ is studied in widely different fields and domains,
across disciplinary boundaries, thereby creating new ways of conceptualizing meaning as
an emergent phenomenon – wherever it occurs.
NOTE
1. I chose ‘translate’ rather than ‘translation’ because of my focus on process, but one could
just as readily perform the same exercise on ‘translation’. I also chose only one dictionary
entry for the sake of not extending the argument too much.
REFERENCES
Aguiar, D., P. Ata and J. Queiroz (2015), ‘Intersemiotic Translation and Transformational
Creativity’, Punctum, 1 (2): 11–21.
Ata, P. and J. Queiroz (2016), ‘Multilevel Poetry Translation as a Problem-solving Task’,
Cognitive Semiotics, 9 (2): 139–47.
Bateson, G. (2002), Mind and Nature: A Necessary Unity, Cresskill: Hampton Press.
Collins English Dictionary (2006), Glasgow: HarperCollins Publishers.
Cronin, M. (2017), Eco-translation: Translation and Ecology in the Age of the Anthropocene,
New York: Routledge.
Deacon, T. W. (2013), Incomplete Nature: How Mind Emerged from Matter, New York:
W. W. Norton and Company.
Eco, U. (1979), A Theory of Semiotics, Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Footitt, H. (2017), ‘International Aid and Development: Hearing Multilingualism, Learning
from Intercultural Encounters in the History of OxfamGB’, Language and Intercultural
Communication, 17 (4): 518–33.
Gambier, Y. and L. van Doorslaer (eds) (2016), Border Crossings: Translation Studies and Other
Disciplines, Amsterdam: John Benjamins.
Lotman, J. (2005), ‘On the Semiosphere’, Sign Systems Studies, 33 (1): 205–29.
Lotman, Y. M. (1990), Universe of the Mind: A Semiotic Theory of Culture, Bloomington:
Indiana University Press.
Marais, K. (2019), A (Bio)Semiotic Theory of Translation: The Emergence of Social-Cultural
Reality, New York: Routledge.
Marais, K. (2021), ‘Eleven Different Names, One Practice: Questioning the Illusion of
Difference in Translation’, Target, 29 (3): 311–25.
Merrell, F. (1997), Peirce, Signs and Meaning, Toronto: University of Toronto Press.
14 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
Translation in the
Natural Sciences
16
CHAPTER ONE
INTRODUCTION
For those who have to fill out income tax declarations, which are obviously different in
different countries, translation into mathematics is relatively straightforward: Your life,
represented by your work for which you are paid; your family, especially dependent
children; your car; and other expenses that the law considers justified become numbers
that will enter a ledger. Either you or an expert will make sure that your taxes, which
contribute to the common good, are correctly assessed. There is ambiguity in the language
of the law, and this is where translation in tax matters can become ‘creative’. This is
where the people translating your description in words into numbers and percentages
become interpreters. At the tax office, others will check the maths and either accept it or
adjust it. Converting life into mathematics goes well beyond paying taxes. It is everything
people do when translating goals – for example, investments, planning a trip, taking care
of their health – into numbers. Therefore, I present a first definition: Measurement is a
form of translation.
Dictionaries typically define mathematical translation as a problem of geometry.
A translation changes the position of all points by the same amount in a given direction:
T(x,y,z)=(x+a, y+b, z+c).
The formula that describes a translation in Euclidean geometry is visualized in
Figure 1.1. If your object is a table that you want to move, or a painting that you want
to hang on a different wall, you will end up solving a geometry translation problem.
This is a second definition: Translation is a specific geometric operation. A third possible
definition is mapping from algebraic representation to visual representation entails
translation.
With all this in mind, of course, including the point that visualization is a form of
translation, as increasingly used in contemporary science, the subject under discussion
is clearly more extensive than tax returns and geometry or visualizations. Mathesis
universalis – the ‘science of all sciences’, as Descartes and Leibniz understood it – is
supposed to ascertain truth and make invention possible. Ars inveniendi – the art of
invention – is an abridged form of this view. Charles Sanders Peirce (‘Mathematics is the
science that draws necessary conclusions’) established that ‘All science is either, A. Science
of Discovery; B. Science of Review; or C. Practical Science’ (1932, 1.181).1 Furthermore,
Peirce claims that Science of Discovery is either (a) Mathematics, (b) Philosophy or (c)
Idioscopy2 (1932, 1.183).
18 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
This brings me to the fourth definition: Translation is a mapping from one language
to another.
We will focus on mapping into mathematics and from mathematics. In certain cases,
intermediary translations will become necessary.
Mathematics is an abstract language (actually, many languages, which explains the
plural form) into which everything else, that is, the concreteness of life, can be translated.
The fact that we now also have a mathematics of machine translation, that is, how
mathematics can automate translations, only serves to suggest further that translation
itself proves to be a challenging mathematical problem. Of course, machines can translate
among languages in the European Parliament, but still fail to translate a four-line
poem – this is part of the challenge. Within mathematics itself, we are faced with yet
another challenge: Euclid’s elements, that is, the foundation of our understanding of
geometry, algebra and number theory, which are not, in the form we read them today,
a literal translation but an informed interpretation. Not unlike literature, translating
Homer or Shakespeare, or philosophy, translating Aristotle or Plato, the beginnings of
mathematics are translated into the more current idioms of the discipline.
Translating into mathematics is different from translating from mathematics, even for the
benefit of mathematicians. Markov (1913) tried to understand the phenomenon of language
TRANSLATING INTO AND FROM MATHEMATICS 19
in mathematical terms. His sample was the first 20,000 letters (identified by hand!) of
Pushkin’s Eugene Onegin. Looking back (to 1913 – more than 100 years ago), we can easily
answer the question that everyone who dislikes mathematics has asked: What is it good for?
Markov’s analysis of the poet’s text is a precursor to what Google (Brin and Page 1998) and
other companies do: They automate the syntactic analysis (instead of counting word by word
or syllable by syllable, or have a scanner do it). Their samples are in the order of billions of
letters from all kinds of texts. Kolmogorov (1965) provided the probability aspect: We can
expect a certain letter or certain words after a given sequence. In other words, the translation
is automated based on the probability of the next letter in a word or the next word in a
sentence. This is how machines deal with translations (including those called ‘on-the-fly’, used
in current routine iPhone conversations between individuals using different languages). As we
shall see, ontology engineering is part of the effort. Wittgenstein was uncompromising about
the view that mathematics has no reference, and claiming that, ‘We need never appeal to the
meaning of the signs, that is, to their extra-mathematical application’ (1964). He was right in
respect of understanding what the language of mathematics provides. The Turing machine
(Turing 1937), for example, is a syntax engine, closed to meaning. Markov’s mathematics and
Kolmogorov’s probability theory adhere to the same view.
With these preliminary observations in mind, let us take note that the ‘language of
science’ – as mathematics is referred to – has changed to the extent of changing science
itself. The declarative (of philosophic arguments) has given way to the procedural
(of measurements resulting in data).
Science itself is changing, from being the expression of understanding what all kinds
of phenomena are to predicting the outcome of change, based on automated data
processing (Nadin 2018a). In other words, from knowledge (reflecting understanding) to
measurement (expressed as data). We still do not understand earthquakes or tornadoes,
but we try to predict them based on data acquired through various sensors. In some
ways, translation – in this case, translation of knowledge, which is always difficult – is
circumvented. This, in itself, is a subject that speaks for the need to broaden the discussion
on translation. That only particular aspects will be discussed in the following text can be
explained by the open-endedness of the subject.
can be more easily measured. When someone asks, in what we call natural language, for
the area under a curve or for the length of a curve, the question is translated into the
language of integral calculus (part of mathematical analysis). Differential calculus, the
inverse of integral calculus, determines the rate at which change occurs. This can translate
questions from natural language, and could be as trivial as how fast a bacterial culture will
grow when some variables (e.g. temperature, feeding) vary. It could just as well apply to
preparing dough for bread or to developing antibacterial drugs. The result is translated
back into natural language and, for example, helps a farmer to calculate how many seeds
are needed for the area cultivated. It all boils down to the question, Why? In other words,
it boils down to the reason for use, whether practical, theoretic, poetic or whatever.
The abstract mathematical operation has practical consequences; for example, GPS-driven
machines (e.g. tractors) make automated farming possible. In some cases, the result of the
mathematical effort is of primary importance to the pragmatics of mathematics itself. Number
theory served the mathematics of encryption very well. The distinction between ‘pure’ and
‘applied’ mathematics captures this possibility. The mathematics used to describe physical
phenomena are by necessity the expression of the laws of physics, while the mathematics used
to describe mathematical methods are different in nature from that of physics or any other
applied domain. Mathematical poetics does not result in laws, but in particular observations
regarding rhythm, rhyme, metaphors and so on, characteristic of poetry.
This being said, it is important to realize that language itself can become (and actually
became!) a mathematical subject. It should come as no surprise that there are mathematics
of translation, examining the many dimensions of mapping from one language to
another. Our attempt to understand what language is, to gain knowledge about its origin,
to understand how it changes over time or how it affects thinking is often facilitated
by mathematics considered as transcending language. Mathematics has also turned its
attention to the many varieties of languages, from natural to artificial, and to what makes
a language better suited than others for specific activities.
With this in mind, translating from natural language to mathematics, and, evidently,
from mathematics back to language, appears to be an extremely rich subject. Semiotics
(Nadin 2017), dedicated to all there is in representation, via words, images, sounds,
symbols, electric signals and languages (natural and artificial), is useful for guiding the
inquiry into how different semiotic systems (e.g. languages, logics, aesthetic expressions,
technological instantiations) ultimately share in what Peirce defined as the open-ended
sign process: the semiosis (Nadin 2018b).
In what follows, we will exemplify that thought, but not before making clear that there
is a broader context within which to translate is to become part of the infinite semiosis,
often embodied in practical applications. A translation is, by necessity, an interpretation.
Here is a first example, namely a town (which happens to be Königsberg, not far from
St Petersburg) with seven bridges (Figure 1.2).
The question, described in natural language, is, Can someone walk over all the bridges
without crossing at least one bridge twice? The task is to devise a walk through the
city and its island, crossing the river around the island in such a way that each bridge
would be crossed only once. This is by now known as The Euler Problem (Euler 1736). It
interests us, here, as we examine the translation of language into mathematics, through
a distinction relevant to semiotics: In addition to that part of geometry that is concerned
with quantities, we have – first mentioned by Leibniz – a ‘geometriam situs’, a geometry
of position, for which language can be very expressive, but which might be lost in the
precise mathematical expression.
TRANSLATING INTO AND FROM MATHEMATICS 21
FIGURE 1.2 The river, the island, the bridges (AnteLab, reproduced with permission).
FIGURE 1.3 Geometriam situs means dealing with the meaning of positions (identified through
letters of the alphabet), that is, with a symbolic description of human actions in their living
environment. (AnteLab, reproduced with permission.)
Euler’s Path translates the question from language into an abstract representation. The
symbolism used (bridge names in lowercase, landmass names in uppercase) refers to the
meaning, bridge versus landmass, and the act of walking across bridges (see Figure 1.3).
This requires a narration: How does one get from a to g without repeating any path? Of
course, it can be generalized to anything that refers to bridges, such as thinking, delivering
goods or bridging between nations. Walking through the city becomes the experience
of a mental calculation (‘De calculositium’, as Leibniz called it) of the situs [situation].
22 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
FIGURE 1.4 Graph theory and topology originate from a semiotic process. (Stack Exchange
Network, CC-BY-SA 3.0)
This gives the translation from the original language the power of abstraction; that is, it
opens up many possible applications. Graph theory and topology, two distinct areas of
mathematics associated with numerical descriptions (quantity representations), originate
from a semiotic process as illustrated by Figure 1.4.
Semiotic adequacy, a subject rarely addressed, becomes a path towards establishing
graph theory and topology. Euler’s semiotic thought inspired successful quantitative
applications (such as those in complex networks science) for which language expression
would have been insufficient.
Relations among various elements in space (the city, a map of the city, a painting,
a building, etc.) are a matter of position semiotically described. This is an observation
that mathematicians, such as Poincaré, Klein, Riemann and others, eventually adopted.
We shall connect this thought (i.e. the analysis situs) to none other than Cassirer, who,
almost 200 years later, advanced a ‘philosophy of symbolic forms’ (1923) as part of his
encompassing Philosophy of Science, within which the animal symbolicum (the human
being, not animals) creates a universe of meanings. Yet again, as with Leibniz, Saussure
and Peirce, the symbol – Zwischenreich, that is, intermediate, mediated domain between
reality and the human subject – is part of a broader view and makes sense only within that
view. It points to meaning, not to measurements. Cassirer (1923: 341–5) realized that
the domain of meaning, our interpretations in natural language and those of quantitative
descriptions (such as mathematical representations) are complementary:
We make ‘inner fictions or symbols’ of outward objects, and these symbols are so
constituted that the necessary consequences of the images are always images of the
necessary consequences of the imaged objects.
(Cassirer 1955: 7)
TRANSLATING INTO AND FROM MATHEMATICS 23
Another example goes back to the time when a great deal of mathematical discoveries
related to abstractions were formulated in natural language. The famous Fermat theorem
is first stated in Latin:
It is impossible to separate a cube into two cubes, or a fourth power into two fourth
powers, or in general, any power higher than the second, into two like powers.
Fermat added, in a note in the margin of a bilingual Greek and Latin edition of the
Arithmetica of Diophantus of Alexandria,
I have discovered a truly marvellous proof of this, which this margin is too narrow to
contain.
For centuries, mathematicians of all kinds tried to come up with a proof. You would
need to know Latin to understand the theorem, or you would need to understand the
mathematical terms to make sense of what became a famous theorem, because almost
nobody could prove it. Later (1637), this theorem was ‘translated’ into mathematical
formulae. Fermat’s last theorem states that no nontrivial integer solutions exist for the
equation:
an + bn = cn
Unequivocal: One and only interpretation. Henri Poincaré (1902, 2018: 20), among
others, states, ‘What does the word mean in mathematics? It means … to be free from
contradiction.’ The language of mathematics is supposed to lead to unequivocal inferences.
Equivocal: This term has several possible interpretations. It refers to the intentional use of
language for triggering various understandings. The language of politics is one example.
Natural language, definitory of the human being, is by its nature ambiguous. If life in
general is defined by adaptive properties, language is the expression of adaptivity as it
pertains to human interactions mediated by words. Natural language has the life of those
born into it and using it. Different cultures evolved different languages. This pertains to
oral languages as well as to written languages (more recently recorded languages).
Languages reflect the nature of human activity in a given context. Among cultures, there
are many possible interactions. However, language interactions, in particular through
translations, remain a major form of sharing and cooperation. Of course, translations of
poetry are different from translations of scientific concepts or philosophical thoughts.
The languages of mathematics are supposed to be universal, independent of the language
in which one thinks and communicates. Moreover, they are supposed to abstract from
language (from concreteness and particularity), without falsifying what is expressed in all
varieties of natural language. The process through which mathematics acquired a meta-
status in respect to natural language follows the path from the human’s direct interaction
with reality to mediated forms of interaction.
Mathematicians do not operate on pieces of land, or on stones (which mathematics
might describe in terms of their characteristics), or on brains, on cells, etc. They produce
and operate on representations (such as the mathematical representation of the neuron), on
semiotic entities conjured by the need to replace the real with a description. The goal of the
mathematicians’ activity, involving thinking, intuition, sensory and motoric characteristics
and emotions, is abstraction. Their activity focuses on very concrete semiotic entities that
define a specific language, namely topology, algebra, category theory and so on.
Tools and machines, regardless of their type (activated hydraulically, pneumatically,
thermically, electrically, electronically, etc.), are mediating, embodied languages. By their
TRANSLATING INTO AND FROM MATHEMATICS 25
condition as constructs meant to help human beings in their activities, they are void of
interpretation abilities. Tools ‘translate’ the natural actions that inspired their making.
Machines can be activated by those who conceived and made them, and they perform
within the intended purpose. Between machines and the human being there is an
interface, namely natural language, or a specialized language (images, gestures, sounds,
etc.). Machines are associated with new nouns (names) and new verbs that expand
language. Machines, which are tools activated by energy resources different from those
of the human being, can be activated by those who conceived and made them. They are
supposed to perform within the intended purpose and generate more language, that is,
new nouns, new verbs. Interfaces are translations. They ‘speak’ the natural language of
the user, but also the restricted language of the machine.
Returning to mathematics: Is the integrating view of the world it facilitates exclusively
a human-generated representation of gnoseological intent and finality? Or can we
identify a mathematics of plants or animals, of physical processes (such as lightning,
earthquakes, the formation of snowflakes)? Does nature ‘make’ mathematics? The fact
that mathematics describes the ‘geometry’ of plants, the movement of fish in water and
volcanic activity cannot be automatically translated as ‘plants are geometricians’, or ‘fish
are analysis experts’, or ‘volcanoes are topologists’. Rather, by watching reality through
the lenses of mathematics, we identify characteristics that can be described in a language
(or several) that applies not to one specific flower or leaf, not to one specific fish or
school of fish, not to one volcano, but to all volcanic activity, regardless where it takes
place. The generality of mathematical descriptions, moreover, mathematical abstraction,
defines the outcome of the activity through which some individuals identify themselves as
mathematicians (professional or amateur).
Mathematics is, actually, as the plural of its name suggests, the many languages through
which mathematical descriptions are set forth. With the automation of mathematics, or at
least that part of it that is algorithmic, mathematics became the interface between natural
language, characterized by ambiguity and its continuous change, and the language of the
machine, a two-letter alphabet and the Boolean logic of Yes and No. The real challenge
of mathematics is to translate from the pragmatic reality of language supporting human
activity to a syntactic reality within which machines, including computers, operate.
Ontology engineering, the concrete activity through which computers are connected to
a repository of meaning, translates from ambiguity to well-defined understandings. This
can take the form of speech recognition, and also of defining various pragmatic domains.
For example, one can think of the ontology engineering of oil field exploration, of making
wine, of designing new materials, of supporting financial transactions, of writing books
(which AI, in some ways, does). The implications of assuming such a task for mathematics
itself are difficult to assess without a better understanding of what it means to translate
from reality to computational processes through which reality is reduced to its syntactic
representation. This is a huge challenge!
In the acquisition and dissemination of knowledge, sharing can involve language or
any other semiotic means of representation. Mathematics, as distinct forms of abstract
expression, consist of many languages. They are all defined by their level of abstraction.
The main characteristic of mathematics (a plural that needs to be acknowledged) is
their precision. Languages of mathematics are, most of the time, unequivocal languages.
The principle of complementarity of precision and expressiveness (the more precise a
language, the less expressive) (Nadin 2019) explains why the issue of translation between
natural languages and the language of mathematics is so difficult. The translation has to
26 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
preserve what makes the text (in a certain language) significant to mathematicians. Or,
the other way around, it has to preserve what makes a precise mathematical formulation,
such as a law of nature, significant to those who cannot understand it in its language of
origin. The back-and-forth between natural language and language of mathematics is in
itself very significant. Translations are not mechanical acts, but interpretive instances
during which knowledge is acquired.
These are preliminary methodical notes. They will help us understand what happens
when the computer, as an automated mathematics machine, entails the need to translate
from the ambiguous natural language to one or another language of mathematics. The
computer, a syntactic engine, preforms operations on sequences of symbols (0, 1, most
of the time) that are supposed to represent meaningful entities of pragmatic relevance.
Computation emerges as nothing more than a way of automating mathematics. Human
computers, that is, men and women paid to perform calculations, were slow, made errors,
got sick, took time off. An automated procedure for astronomical applications or, for
military planning, was by far more adequate and economical. Before digital computation,
others tried to reach the same goal by using means corresponding to the pragmatics
of their time. John Napier (1550–1617), the Scottish inventor of logarithms, tried
(around 1610) to simplify the task of multiplication. (Napier’s rods, or bones, as they
were called, served the purpose.) Blaise Pascal (1623–62) worked on adding machines
(1641), and Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz (1646–1716), whom I consider ‘the father of
the digital’, introduced binary code (which helped him translate from the Chinese).
Wilhelm Schickart (1592–1635) built a machine (described by Kepler) that performed
sophisticated operations, while Joseph-Marie Jacquard (1752–1834) built the loom,
which was able to generate complicated patterns (computer graphics before the age of
computers!). Many have tried to write the history of these early attempts at automatic
calculations. And many made up all kinds of stories, since the subject is conducive to
fictional accounts. Obviously, Charles Babbage (1791–1871) figures prominently in such
accounts through his two machines, namely the difference engine and analytical engine
(which apparently were never built). The same goes for William Stanley Jevons (1835–82),
who, in 1869, built a machine to solve logic problems. There was also E. O. Carissan
(1880–1925), lieutenant in the French infantry, who made up a mechanical contraption
for factoring integers and testing them for primality. And there was Leonardo Torres
y Quevedo (1852–1936), who assembled (or is famed for allegedly having done so) an
electromechanical calculating device that played chess endgames. Yes, chess is a beautiful
mathematical game that translates from real-life characters to symbolic characters. All
the machines mentioned were performing translations from reality to its quantification.
The automation of calculations for ballistics in Howard Aiken’s (1900–73) Mark
I (1944) and in the artillery calculations on a general-purpose electronic machine, on the
ENIAC (at the Moore School of the University of Pennsylvania), is, in fact, the identifier
for computation (Levy 2013). Indeed, automated mathematics is the shorthand for the
initial computer and, of course, for the entire field of computation. Behind this not trivial
observation, we find the origins of almost all the questions preoccupying us today in
respect to computation and, thus, to translating from natural language to all the language
of mathematics.
This begs some explanation. Descartes proclaimed the reduction of everything to
the cause-and-effect sequence and the reduction of the living to the machine as the
embodiment of determinism. This reduction resulted in the description of time as
duration – a distinction that is meaningful in natural language, where, in addition to what
TRANSLATING INTO AND FROM MATHEMATICS 27
clocks ‘measure’, we often consider living time (as experienced by individuals during
various activities). The living was reduced to functionality (which the machine expressed),
which, in our days, became robotics, but which started in natural language (think only of
the Golem of Prague, a mythical human-like being created of clay by a sixteenth-century
rabbi in order to protect the Jews of Prague). The program of the Descartes type of
machine is given once and for all time. Think about your clock: some program embodied
in wheels that engage each other. It does not change, as performance does not change
unless the components break down. In the deterministic machine, the implicit time
dimension pertains to its functioning, which is dictated by the physical characteristics of
the components. Such a machine exists, like everything else in Descartes’s world, in the
time dimension of existence reduced to duration and indexed to day and night – and,
thus, to the functioning of the astronomical machine. This is when the subjective
dimension of time (which preoccupied Bergson 1944 [1960]) is lost. A straight line along
which intervals are referenced – the geometrization of time, as Bergson put it – is a poor
translation of time experience into mathematics. With the advent of the computer, the
implicit assertion is reasonable: For the class of mathematical descriptions of the physics
of ballistics, artillery calculations in particular, we can conceive of a machine that will
automate the calculations. Ballistics is about precision, not feelings.
In other words, the determinism of the physics described in mathematical equations
of ballistics is such that we can automate their processing, because what they describe
was reduced to numbers. The translation from natural language into the mathematical
equations mentioned as driving the ENIAC was done by scientists (such as Aiken).
This was ontology engineering done by hand. One can generalize from such equations
to many other phenomena. Space exploration, as well as the trivial description of
playing soccer, comes to mind. One can take the mathematics of the particular ballistics
problem as an attempt at modelling many phenomena of practical impact. If we know
how to handle such difficult descriptions, we already know how to handle simpler
cases, ranging from simulating a game of billiards, to building games driven by the
same program, and to building a control device to guide a rocket. Robotic surgery is
probably the domain where the translation from natural language to the mathematics
of control mechanisms can become dangerous (and painful). But, the translation effort
is increasingly more time-consuming, and eventually impractical. Ontology engineering
aims at automating it.
The abstraction of mathematical descriptions, to which I shall return, makes them
good candidates for an infinite variety of concrete applications; that is, they are simple
translations of unequivocal statements of descriptions in natural language. This is no
small accomplishment, though it is, by far, not yet what we understand when we use the
words ‘computer’ and ‘programs’. We need to be even more specific. Ballistic equations,
as complex as they can get, are but a small aspect of mathematics. (In the meanwhile,
they have been substantially improved.) For all practical purposes, operating a dedicated
machine (driving a cannon, for instance) is nothing more than a translation from natural
language of a description of the task to which it is dedicated into the language of
mathematics adequate to the task.
The implicit assumption is that of Descartes’s machine: It performs within a world
that is regular, repetitive and predictable. Even the variety of applications it might open
is each treated the same way. But once we transcend the specialized machine and enter
the domain of computation as a universal process, we transcend the boundaries of the
reductionist perspective. And we are forced to either accept the model of a permanency
28 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
that extends from the physical to the living and to society or to acknowledge dynamics
and take up the challenge of understanding knowledge as process. Natural language is
a well-tested repository of knowledge pertinent to phenomena in which the observer
is the human being. However, when the observer is a mathematical entity – sensors,
measuring devices, etc. – natural language becomes a description of something that is
a mathematical entity. Visualizations of all kinds are examples we face continuously.
Instead of knowledge acquired in natural language, we have knowledge in the language
of mathematics ‘translated’ into natural language.
Other questions that arise and guide our endeavour are the following:
Wittgenstein, in rejecting the name theory of language (associated with Socrates), knew
that words do not correspond to things. Therefore, it is not enough to translate words;
rather, we should relate them to the activity they describe. Peirce’s views confirm that
it is not the semantics that matters but the pragmatics, that is, the meaning of language
associated with human activity.
Deep down, in the digital engine, there are two elements controlling and making
computation possible, namely an ‘alphabet’ and a ‘grammar’. These two together make
up a language, that is, machine language. The alphabet consists of two letters (0 and 1),
while the grammar is the Boolean logic (slightly modified since Boole, but, in essence,
a body of rules that makes sense in the binary language of Yes and No, in which our
programs are written). The assembler, with a minimum of ‘words’ and rules for making
meaningful ‘statements’, comes on top of this machine language. And, after that comes the
level of ‘formal language’ performance, in which programs are written or automatically
generated. Such programs need to be evaluated, interpreted and executed. This condensed
description of what a mathematical machine, that is, a computer, is shows that, between
the electrons that rush through logical gates and the purpose of performing a program,
there are many translations.
With this in mind, we are at the core of the problem of translation, between what
we think, expressed in natural language, and what machines are supposed to perform
in order to facilitate human activities inspired by such thinking. This is the problem
that ontology engineering addresses: how to map, automatically, from the language
descriptions of what things are – this is the classic domain of ontology – to the language
of mathematics, more precisely, to that of automated mathematics. Since the mathematics
of astronomy is different from that of geology or oceanography, ontology engineering
has to provide translations that cross disciplines. As an example, software that guides the
making of pharmaceutical products should also ‘understand’ the computer descriptions of
the medical interventions, or the supply chain (for car manufacture, home construction,
etc.) needs to ‘speak’ a common language.
Today’s ontology engineering, that is, translating language into computable
specifications of everything (e.g. ‘Siri, what’s the time?’, new medical treatments, new
materials, new forms of transactions), is nothing but the expression of how we can
TRANSLATING INTO AND FROM MATHEMATICS 29
tame language so that machines (of today or of tomorrow) can ‘understand’ what we
want, or what an artificial intelligence procedure expects. Ideally, such machines would
think the way we do, or at least mimic thinking – as in the functioning of artificial
neural networks. An artificial neuron is a mathematical construct that translates the
descriptions of neurons as observed by brain researchers. With this subject, we are
moving from ‘What is X?’ – the subject of philosophic ontology (any subject, such as
what is matter, or sex, or justice) – to ‘How do we engineer X?’, that is, make new
entities, how we think, how, under the involvement of the Turing machine, that is, the
algorithmic computer, we evaluate thinking. This is the goal of ontology engineering:
Automate the making of an actionable encyclopaedia for the language of mathematics
driving the Turing machine.
We did not try to describe here the ‘machinery’ used by ontology engineers, but in
explaining the translation activity, we came to some conclusions (presented here more as
a summary of the effort):
1. Ontology engineering provides actionable descriptions of reality. The important
qualifier ‘actionable’ means in our time computational. (There were ontologies that
were actionable in the industrial age, quite different from those we need today.
Leibniz created one for translating from Chinese into Latin or French.) In this
respect, ontology engineering is the ontology of the age of the Turing machine.
I would even call it algorithmic ontology.
2. Regardless of how this description is done (using knowledge graphs or semantic
networks, or anything else), it is actually a translation of ontology (in its broad
philosophic sense) in the language of the machine. If the machine would not have
been an exclusively syntax processing engine, nobody would have become an
ontology engineer.
3. By taking Hilbert’s challenge (Entscheidungsproblem) (Hilbert and Ackerman 1928),
Turing demonstrated that, for everything that can be algorithmically described, the
Turing machine is the procedure for processing such descriptions. I have to add a
caveat: Turing (1937) proved that there is a large part of reality that is not Turing
reality, that is, non-algorithmic (Nadin 2020). It seems that this part of his work on
Hilbert’s challenge is ignored.
4. As a deterministic machine, algorithmic computation is itself a description of reality
reduced to its syntax. That we are only adding a pseudo-semantic dimension should be
easy to understand. More difficult, and this is where Peirce comes in, is to understand
that meaning corresponds to the pragmatic dimension of the sign. It is what we want
to do. We are what we do, not only what we understand. We process not only words
but also images, sounds, textures, taste and so on. There is no one-to-one mapping
from these various perception-based sources of information to language.
5. The issue of translation from language to computerese (regardless of its type) is
actually an issue of knowledge representations. In mathematics, the object of study
is not by necessity (in Peirce’s sense, cf. synechistic categories) connected to the
real world (reality of objects and actions). Ontology engineering is about reality,
and the outcome is a computational representation. Knowledge representation in
the language of mathematics results in formalization. Ontology engineering turns
theories and models of theories, as well as algorithms for processing data from
measurement, into actual computations.
30 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
CONCLUSION
Life is characterized by a plurality of means of communication, which do not only include
natural languages but also formal and machine languages, as well as non-lingual forms of
communication throughout the biosphere. Currently, humans seem to be the only ones
engaging in natural, formal and machine translations. Throughout history, the quest for
communication across languages has received much attention. Perhaps the time has now
arrived to expand this quest to include translation between natural language and formal/
machine language, in order to explore many of the areas in which translation between
natural and formal/machine languages is circumvented. But, perhaps, the time has also
arrived to translate between these particularly human means of communication and
artificial means. Machine translation in forms yet to be developed (the non-algorithmic)
could assist in this.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
From David Brief to Marcian Guttman, Nicolae Cioranescu, Grigore Moisil and, last,
but not least, Solomon Marcus (whose understanding of mathematics and its relation
to semiotics is reflected in this text): They influenced me in making mathematics the
foundation of my entire activity. Frank Harary (credited with work on graph theory),
Robert Rosen (the mathematical biologist), Robert Marty (category theory pertinent to
semiotics) and Lotfi Zadeh (with whom I worked on fuzzy sets and possibility theory)
are yet others deserving of my gratitude in matters mathematical. Not in their footprints,
rather inspired to find my own path. If someone were to give me a second life, I would
spend it in pure mathematics and its twin sister, music.
But that is memory lane. The credit for this text coming together after I failed – for
the first time in my career – to deliver a promised text goes to Kobus Marais. His own
credentials were sufficient to convince me that I wanted to be part of a book he was
the editor of. But I could not find the energy to turn my commitment into a decent
contribution. In a collegial manner, less and less self-understood in our days, he suggested
ways to engage my limited resources and, more importantly, to maintain our dialog.
He cares for the subject. For the frustrations I might have caused him, I apologize. All
shortcomings of the text that I am signing are my responsibility.
NOTES
1 Per convention, citations refer to volume decimal entry number, not page number.
2 Idioscopy has two wings: (a) the physical sciences; and (b) the psychical, or human sciences.
REFERENCES
Bergson, H. (1944 [1960]), Time and Free Will: An Essay on the Immediate Data of
Consciousness, trans. F. L. Pogson, New York: Harper and Row. (Essai sur les données
immédiates de la conscience, Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 1944).
Brin, S. and L. Page (1998), ‘The Anatomy of a Large-scale Hypertextual Web Search Engine’,
Computer Networks, 30: 107–17.
TRANSLATING INTO AND FROM MATHEMATICS 31
Cassirer, E. (1923[1955]), Philosophie der symbolischen Formen. Erster Teil: Die Sprache,
Berlin: Bruno Cassirer (Trans. The Philosophy of Symbolic Forms, Volume 1: Language,
New Haven: Yale University Press, 1955).
Darmon, H. (1999), ‘A Proof of the Full Shimura-Taniyama-Weil Conjecture Is Announced’,
Research News, Notices of the AMS, December: 1397–401.
Euler, L. (1736), ‘“Solutio problematis ad geometriam situs pertinentis” [The Solution of a
Problem Relating to the Geometry of Position]’, Commentarii Academiae Scientiarum
Petropolitanae, 8: 128–40.
Harary, F. (1969), Graph Theory, Reading, MA: Addison-Wesley.
Hilbert, D. and W. Ackerman (1928), Grundzüge der Theoretischen Logik [Principles of
Mathematical Knowledge], Berlin: Springer.
Kolmogorov, A. N. (1965), ‘Three Approaches to the Quantitative Definition of Information’,
Problemy Peredachi Informatsii, 1 (1): 3–11.
Levy, S. (2013), ‘A Look Back at the Room-Size Government Computer That Began the Digital
Era’, Smithsonian Magazine, November. Available online: https://www.smithsonianmag.
com/history/the-brief-history-of-the-eniac-computer-3889120/
Markov, A. A. (2006 [1913]), ‘Classical Text in Translation. An Example of Statistical
Investigation of the Text Eugene Onegin. Concerning the Connection of Samples in Chains’,
Lecture at the Physical-Mathematical Faculty, Royal Academy of Sciences, St Petersburg, 23
January, Science in Context, 19 (4): 591–600. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0269889706001074
McLarty, C. (2010), ‘What Does It Take to Prove Fermat’s Last Theorem? Grothendieck and
the Logic of Number Theory’, Bulletin of Symbolic Logic, 16 (3): 359–77.
Nadin, M. (2017), ‘Semiotic Engineering – An Opportunity or an Opportunity Missed’, in
K. Breitman (ed.), Conversations around Semiotic Engineering, 241–63, Berlin: Springer
International.
Nadin, M. (2018a), ‘Machine Intelligence – A Chimera’, AI & Society, 134 (2): 215–42.
Nadin, M. (2018b), ‘Meaning in the Age of Big Data’, in M. Danesi (ed.), Empirical Research
on Semiotics and Visual Rhetoric, 86–127, Hershey, PA: IGI Global Publishers.
Nadin, M. (2019), ‘Information and Semiotic Processes’, The Semiotics of Computation,
Cybernetics, and Human Knowing, 18 (1–2): 153–75.
Nadin, M. (2020), ‘Aiming AI at a Moving Target: Health or Disease’, AI & Society, 35 (1):
841–9. https://doi.org/10.1007/s00146-020-00943-x.
Peirce, C. S. (1932), ‘Principles of Philosophy and Elements of Logic’, in C. Hartshorne and
P. Weiss (eds), Collected Papers of Charles Sanders Peirce, Volumes I and II. Cambridge,
MA: Belknap Press of the Harvard University Press.
Poincaré, H. (2018 [1902]), La Science et L’Hypothése, Paris: Flammarion. See also: Science
and Hypothesis: The Complete Text, J. Stump (ed, trans.), M. Frappier (ed, trans.) and
A. Smith (trans.), London: Bloomsbury Academic.
Turing A. M. (1937), ‘On Computable Numbers, with an Application to the
Entscheidungsproblem’, Proceedings of the London Mathematical Society, S2 (42): 230–65.
https://doi.org/10.1112/plms/s2-42.1.230
Wiles, A. (1995), ‘Modular Forms, Elliptic Curves, and Fermat’s last Theorem’, in Proceedings
of the International Congress of Mathematicians, Zürich, 1994, 243–5, 1 (2), Basel:
Birkhäuser.
Wittgenstein, L. (1964), Remarks on the Foundations of Mathematics, trans. G. E. M. Anscombe,
London: Blackwell.
32
CHAPTER TWO
‘Translating’ Geometric
into Arithmetic Reasoning
as a Case of Negentropic
Semiotic work
MICHAEL H. G. HOFFMANN
Torop argues that this ‘negentropic translational perspective’ is the source of cultural
diversity, because it is the origin of new cultural forms. I cannot agree more with
Torop on this point. However, I do need to point out, once again, that the translational
work done in society and culture is not limited to linguistic translational work.
It also, and perhaps dominantly, includes non-linguistic, i.e. semiotic, negentropic
work. … through translation and the constraints of this process, semiotic processes
take particular trajectories, the aim of which is the creation of cultural forms.
(Marais 2019: 68)
The goal of this contribution is to show, with an example from the history of mathematics,
that such ‘negentropic semiotic work’ seems to be essential for the creation of new
knowledge in mathematics. Translating what is known in one mathematical system of
representation into another one seems to be crucial for countering ‘cultural entropy’.
The discovery of incommensurability in Pythagorean mathematics is a case in which a
proof that had first been performed by means of geometry as a system of representation has
been ‘translated’ into an arithmetic proof, thus, transforming an intuitive demonstration
into a logical one. Both proofs are performed by completely different means, but since
the result is the same – knowing that certain lengths are incommensurable – this can
be interpreted as a case of translation, as meaning-making in a different system of
representation. This translation led, finally, to an important extension of the number
system. Thus, this is a case of translation that created ‘new cultural forms’ by substantially
expanding representational systems.
According to the seminal analysis of Kurt von Fritz, the proof that certain lengths are
‘incommensurable’ – meaning they cannot be measured with a common unit – was first
performed when Pythagorean mathematicians tried to determine the ratio of side and
diagonal in the regular pentagon.2 A very old method to determine the greatest common
measure of two lengths is the method of mutual subtraction, in which the shorter length
is subtracted from the longer one, then it is checked how often the remainder fits into the
shorter one, then again the new remainder is subtracted from the first remainder and so
on, until there is no length remaining. The last remainder is, then, the greatest common
measure of both lengths.
But what happens if we apply this method to the regular pentagon in Figure 2.1? As
Von Fritz (1945: 257–8) writes,
if one looks at the pentagram or at a regular pentagon with all its diameters filled in…,
the fact that the process of mutual subtraction goes on infinitely, that therefore there
‘TRANSLATING’ GEOMETRIC INTO ARITHMETIC REASONING 35
is no greatest common measure, and that hence the ratio between diameter and side
cannot be expressed in integers however great, is apparent almost at first sight. For
one sees at once that the diameters of the pentagon form a new regular pentagon in the
centre, that the diameters of this smaller pentagon will again form a regular pentagon,
and so on in an infinite process.
It is then also very easy to see that in the pentagons produced in this way AE =
AB’ and B’D = B’E’ and therefore AD – AE = B’E’, and likewise AE = ED’ = EA’
and B’E’ = B’D = B’E and therefore AE – B’E’ = B’A’, and so forth ad infinitum, or,
in other words, that the difference between the diameter and the side of the greater
pentagon is equal to the diameter of the smaller pentagon, and the difference between
the side of the greater pentagon and the diameter of the smaller pentagon is equal to
the side of the smaller pentagon, and again the difference between the diameter of the
smaller pentagon and its side is equal to the diameter of the next smaller pentagon and
so forth in infinitum. Since ever new regular pentagons are produced by the diameters
it is then evident that the process of mutual subtraction will go on forever, and that
therefore no greatest common measure of the diameter and the side of the regular
pentagon can be found.
FIGURE 2.1 Determining the ratio of side and diagonal in a regular pentagon with the method
of mutual subtraction. (Source: Von Fritz, 1945: 257. Reprinted by permission of the Annals of
Mathematics, Department of Mathematics, Princeton University.)
36 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
Mathematicians in Ancient Greece, however, were obviously not satisfied with proving
incommensurability in this ‘intuitive’ manner that requires operations on a visualization.
One has to ‘see’ the recursive structure of regular pentagons, and to infer from this
‘insight’ that the process of mutual subtraction would go on forever. In an appendix to the
tenth book of Euclid’s Elements, we find an almost entirely logical proof to demonstrate
incommensurability. This logical proof, an arithmetical proof, is about the ratio of the
side and diagonal in a square. The proof is easier to understand if we use, at least in some
parts, modern terminology such as √2, which was not yet available in Ancient Greece,
and if we both simplify things and explicate a few points that are presupposed. In the
following formulation of the proof, passages in parentheses are quoted from Von Fritz’s
translation of Euclid’s version (Von Fritz 1945: 254–5, Fn. 60), those in brackets from the
interpretation provided by Kneale and Kneale (1988 [1962]: 8), those in curly brackets
are my translations from a German version by Van der Waerden (1979: 398) and the
remaining parts are my own words.
(Let ABCD be a square and AC its) diagonal. (I say that AC will be incommensurable
with AB in length. For let us assume that it is commensurable. I say that it will follow
that the same number is at the same time even and odd. It is clear that the square
on AC is double the square on AB) because, according to the Pythagorean theorem,
a2 + b2 = c2 so that, if the sides a and b are equal as in the square, the square on the
diagonal c equals double the square of the side. The Pythagorean theorem implies that
the diagonal AC is √2 if the side AB equals 1.
If we assume that AC is commensurable, then [there are two integers, say m and
n, which are mutually prime]. {From AC/AB = m/n follows that AC2/AB2 = m2/n2.
However, since AC2 = 2AB2} based on the Pythagorean theorem, {it follows that
m2 = 2n2}. [From this it follows that m2 must be even and with it m], as implied by
Euclid 1956 IX Prop. 29. [But, if m is even, n must be odd, according to our initial
supposition that they are mutually prime. Assuming that m = 2k] because it is even,
[we can infer that 2n2 = 4k2 or n2 = 2k2; and from this it can be shown by a repetition
of the reasoning used above that n must be even]. (But it has also been demonstrated
that n must be an odd number, which is impossible. It follows, therefore, that AC
cannot be commensurable with AB, which was to be demonstrated.)
This proof realizes what was later called a ‘reductio ad absurdum’, one of the
most important tools in mathematics. That incommensurability is deduced from
an ‘absurdity’ is made clear right in the beginning, when Euclid writes that from
assuming a counterfactual – that side and diagonal are ‘commensurable’ – it would
follow ‘that the same number is at the same time even and odd’, which is obviously
absurd. Since commensurable and incommensurable are mutually exclusive,
demonstrating that commensurability leads to an impossibility is equivalent to proving
incommensurability.
When we compare both these proofs, the important point is that they complement
each other (Otte 1990). While the geometrical proof gives us the general ‘concept of
recursion’, a cognitive tool that turned out to be highly important in many other areas
of mathematics, the arithmetic proof provides the foundation for an extension of the
number system. Whereas the geometrical proof could be interpreted as demonstrating
that not everything can be described by ‘numbers’ – that is, integers and their ratios – the
‘TRANSLATING’ GEOMETRIC INTO ARITHMETIC REASONING 37
arithmetic one can lead us directly to a generalization of the number system that includes
a new entity in the ontology of arithmetic: ‘irrational numbers’, as they were called later.
When we say that the geometrical and the arithmetical proof ‘complement’ each other,
then this does not only mean that we get a ‘richer’ picture of incommensurability by
taking both into account – just as we would get a richer impression when looking at a
sculpture from various points of view. More importantly, complementarity here means
that each mode of reasoning and the representational systems used in this reasoning
support each other; they provide each other with a foundation that can be used to justify
the creation of new entities, such as irrational numbers, and new cognitive tools, like the
idea of recursion.
What we find in this example from the history of mathematics is, thus, a case in which
translation unfolds as ‘negentropic semiotic work’. The starting point is the translation of
a proof performed in geometry as one system of representation into a proof performed
in another one, arithmetic. This is a case of ‘meaning making in a different system of
representation’ because the same idea – that certain lengths are incommensurable – is
represented and justified by completely different semiotic means. On the one hand, this
translation was crucial for providing an almost entirely logical proof for what can be
criticized as being based on intuition and, thus, crucial for providing a justification of
recursion as an acceptable tool in mathematics. On the other, this translation was essential
for preparing the extension of the number system by what was later called irrational
numbers (such as √2). The translation was essential, because it is difficult to imagine
that anyone would have come up with the idea of the highly abstract arithmetical proof
without being pushed into this direction by what is intuitively very clear: the infinite
regress that can be seen in Figure 2.1. That these translations led, thus, to the creation of
new and important knowledge in both geometry and arithmetic shows that the opposite
of cultural decay into disorder took place. This is negentropic semiotic work. Instead
of increasing entropy, new ‘cultural forms’ and new order are created by expanding the
ontology of the systems of representation that were used here.
NOTES
1 See Hoffmann (2005: 85–110). For the language view, see, for example, Benacerraf and
Putnam (1983 [1964]), and for mathematics as a form of activity, Tymoczko (1998 [1986])
and Restivo et al. (1993).
2 Von Fritz (1945). More detail about additional research on the Pythagorean discovery can
be found in Hoffmann and Plöger (2000).
REFERENCES
Benacerraf, P. and H. Putnam (eds) (1983 [1964]), Philosophy of Mathematics: Selected
Readings, 2nd edn, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Euclid (1956), The Thirteen Books of The Elements, New York: Dover Publications.
Gajdenko, P. P. (1986), Antike Traditionen im Deutschen Idealismus, Die Begründung der
Geometrie bei Platon, Proklos und Kant [Ancient Traditions in German Idealism. Laying the
Foundations of Geometry in Plato, Proclus, and Kant], trans. Bielfeldt, in N. V. Motrosilova
(ed.), Studien zur Geschichte der westlichen Philosophie: 11 Arbeiten jüngerer sowjet.
38 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
INTRODUCTION
For decades, scientists and scholars have been excited by the theoretical and practical
implications of developments in computer science for investigations in translation studies.
Computers – as technological devices with increasingly sophisticated software – are
themselves certainly central to the ongoing attempt to translate source texts into object
or target texts. Usually, an investigation into the translation possibilities represented by
computers focuses on the alluring potential that hardware and software have for this
endeavour. For example, enhancements to translation procedures that use various deep
learning techniques are being developed at almost breakneck speed.
As a point of contrast in this chapter, I will explore how the ‘carrying over’ of practices
between the computer/information science and translation communities can enrich and
enlarge the objects of investigation and disciplinary activities of both groups, rather than
the consequences that specific technical developments will have on enlarging translation
studies. As a computer scientist, I will, on the one hand, identify some general practices
and assumptions found in the community of computer and information scientists, and
describe ways that these can enlarge the scope of activities undertaken by translation
scholars. On the other hand, while maintaining the perspective of a computer scientist,
I will also describe some ways that emerging concerns in the translation community
can inform the teaching and practice of computer/information science, as well as the
‘interplay’ and ‘entanglement’ between the practices of these two groups. Although
some scholars in the translation community have come to embrace transdisciplinary
perspectives in translation studies, they usually situate the activities of the translator in
relation to the humanities and social sciences. I maintain that thinking about ‘translation
beyond translation’ also promotes truly transdisciplinary work between computer/
information science and translation studies. By truly transdisciplinary work, I mean that
computer/information science and translation studies can mutually enrich each other.
40 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
be identified, but these generalized activities of this group can illustrate how CI can
contribute to enlarging the work of translation scholars.
Although the five broad activities of the CI community listed below have discrete aims,
they are to some extent interdependent.
Exploration: The CI community practices exploration in several ways that are relevant
to this discussion. First, exploring the domain of problems to be solved or situations
to be simulated is a major preoccupation of members of this community. This aspect
of exploration is, as noted above, the first step in systems development. Second, some
CI practitioners are concerned with constructing situations, or simulations, in which
various courses of action can be explored virtually. This aspect of exploration is pertinent
to the process of model building, which in turn can aid in prediction, and perhaps more
importantly, in understanding how a process operates.
Analysis: The operation of analysis has, in the past several decades, achieved the status
of a semi-autonomous activity in the CI community. Statistical methods that are not
considered intrinsic to the usual goals of computer and information science, sometimes
called ‘data analytics’ or ‘data science’, have now found their way into the activities of
CI practitioners. Analysis is sometimes combined with exploration in the process of what
statistician John Behrens (1997: 132) called ‘exploratory data analysis’. An important
aspect of exploratory data analysis is to discover patterns in data. Behrens sees that the
role of the data analyst ‘is to listen to the data in as many ways as possible until a plausible
“story” of the data is apparent, even if such a description would not be borne out in
subsequent samples’.
Generation: At the most basic level, the term ‘generation’ refers to ‘output’, that is, the
end point of information processing. Although the emphasis in information and computer
systems is on the output of an operation, obviously the other components of creating an
outcome, ‘input’ and ‘process’ must also be considered. There are different forms of
output (as well as input). These forms – text, images, sounds and tactile reactions – can
individually be the outcome of the generation process, or they can be combined in various
ways. Some of the most complicated combinations result in types of simulations that can
serve as representations of the world in its various forms.
These broad activities of the CI community do not exhaust the practices of those
engaged with computers and information systems today, but they are a useful starting point
for understanding the relationship between the actual activities of the CI community and
42 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
the present and future practices of translators. Currently these computational activities
are found in some of the general activities of translators. Translators explore aspects of
a text and its context, analyse texts, make decisions about what expressions to use in
a translation, generate textual material and communicate their results to an audience.
But beyond these more conventional practices, a consideration of these operations can
serve to illustrate ways that the CI community can enlarge the work of translators. This
operation of enlargement can be characterized by processes of ‘carrying over’ practices
from the CI community to that of translators. Processes that involve ‘carrying over’
can be expressed by English words designated with the prefix ‘trans’. An examination
of translation processes identified with the terms ‘trans-organism’, ‘trans-organic’,
‘transhumanism’, ‘transmission’, ‘transduction’, ‘transformation’ and ‘trans-science’ can
demonstrate the linkage between potentially new practices in the translation community
and existing activities found in the CI group.
Biosemioticians all seem to agree that human beings have the most developed semiotic
abilities, and they also agree that language is the most complex and developed semiotic
code. What they do contest is the notion that humans are the only organisms that have
semiotic abilities, that language explains all human communication and that animals
are driven by instinct only. In any area of ecological awareness against the background
of a global crisis in this regard, in an era when post-humanism has become a buzzword
in the humanities and in an era when biologists are looking for meaning in all living
THE ‘CARRYING OVER’ AND ENTANGLEMENT OF PRACTICES 43
Over the past several years, the task of the biosemiotician has been aided by computers,
especially those using artificial neural networks (ANN). By using computation as a way
of understanding animal language, a wide variety of characteristics should be taken
into consideration, and the ability of machines to store a wide variety of attributes in a
distributed manner ought to aid our understanding.
The question whether animals have human-level linguistics skills remains a subject
for debate. In discussing this contentious issue, Eva Meijer observes, ‘[D]efinitions of
language decided by humans will always favor humans, and so we should include other
characteristics when engaging in thinking about other animal languages’ (2020: 92). She
is more specific about the role of computation, particularly with species outside the usual
target groups for animal communication, such as primates and dolphins. She cites a news
story published in 2015 (BBC News 2015) on the work of Chinese scientists who claimed
to have ‘decoded Panda language’. They had collected voiceprints of panda sounds and
then linked them to panda behaviour. Their main goal was to invent a machine that could
translate these voice patterns, so that humans could communicate with pandas. What
is more pertinent for expanding the boundaries of translation studies is the scientists’
aim of classifying the phenomena they observed (panda expressions of ‘emotion’) with
underlying emotional states.
The relation between a natural language and a code is not the same as that between two
languages. Translating from one language into another is quite different from coding
and decoding. Coding and decoding can be done by formal substitution, whereas
translating presupposes understanding. Of course this is again a gradual difference.
The relation between spoken and written language is like that between a language and
a code. Writing is like coding, and reading like decoding. Yet the rules that govern the
relations between a spoken and a written language, are much more complicated than
the rules of any cryptography.
Freudenthal makes a familiar distinction for translators, one that should always be
observed with respect to the use of computers in translation studies. This distinction is
between the process of decoding and the cognitive act of translation. For some theorists
of the philosophy of language and mind, decoding does not require an understanding of
the text, whereas translation does. The algorithmic process of mapping a source language
44 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
to a target tongue in decoding does not necessarily require a deep knowledge of what the
source text purports to mean. Human cognitive elements and structures are not in use
here; hence, what we mean by ‘translation’ does not apply to basic decoding operations.
Two points are crucial: (1) At the very least, computer and information technology
can serve as an aid to translators and to translation studies, and (2) decontextualized
decoding may be better for communicating with other species with which we do not share
a common context.
The insights of Freudenthal were elaborated further, into a functional approach to
such communication methods, by Alexander Ollongren decades later. Ollogren discusses
his approach (which he christened Lincos) in his 2013 book, Astrolinguistics: Design of a
Linguistic System for Interstellar Communication Based on Logic. The core of his approach
is based on developments in computer science that centre on symbolic transformations.
As Oberhaus notes, ‘For Ollongren, logic is an ideal starting point for an interstellar
language because it seems reasonable to assume that any extraterrestrial society capable
of sending and/or receiving interstellar messages must, to some degree, be familiar with
logic’ (2019: 203). In attempts to communicate with alien civilizations, the schemes of
Freudenthal and Ollogren push the shared cultural and social context with respect to
specific sets of symbols between humans and aliens to the periphery, though the centrality
of the transformation process, as a set of functions embedded in a form of logic, remains.
sought to train an algorithm that learns to model escape from viral sequence data
alone. This approach is not unlike learning properties of natural language from large
text corpuses because languages such as English and Japanese use sequences of words
to encode complex meanings and have complex rules (for example, grammar). To
escape, a mutant virus must preserve infectivity and evolutionary fitness – it must obey
a ‘grammar’ of biological rules – and the mutant must no longer be recognized by the
immune system, which is analogous to a change in the ‘meaning’ or the ‘semantics’ of
the virus.
(Hie et al. 2021: 284)
Here, a computer program (along with the imagination of a human team that sees a
connection) makes a translation from the source, the expression of a virus in terms of
its behaviour, into the object/target of human natural language. This work suggests
that machine learning techniques that use large, potentially networked text sources can
build methods of translation between two languages – that of the virus and that used by
humans. Beyond aiding the development of therapies that can minimize the effects of
viruses, an important theoretical link can be explored concerning the common structure
of systems of communication and action across different types of entities that affect our
‘life worlds’. The work of Hie and his colleagues can then extend the domain of elements
THE ‘CARRYING OVER’ AND ENTANGLEMENT OF PRACTICES 45
in biosemiotics to include not just living organisms (using the usual criterion of ‘living’)
but also less easily classified entities, such as viruses. There might be some underlying
communicative structure – as a kind of ‘language’ – that entities such as viruses and
humans share.
What does this quotation have to do with translation? As Hayles notes, computers and
their associated hardware possess an umwelt defined by the modes that encode, store
and process information in the machine. One aspect of Hayles’ vision is that machines
and humans, which are both capable of processing information, can, together, form a
larger group of expressions that enrich the ‘semiosphere’ and ‘cognisphere’. This insight
46 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
is compatible with the views of biosemioticians, in which the range of the practices of
translators is increased by including the generation of meanings by entities that are not
considered strictly ‘human’.
A second point is Hayles’s interpretation and appropriation of ‘assemblage’ – a
concept that is potentially fruitful for both the CI and translation communities. Hayles
presents the prospect that once machines are placed within the domain of agents that
can make meaning, there can arise a kind of hybrid that encompasses both the organic
and inorganic worlds. (Hayles’s recent thinking is consistent with her earlier work on the
‘posthuman’.) Specifically, Hayles states that the development of computers beyond being
mere calculating devices will lead to a bio-technoevolution, which is a ‘hybrid process in
which information, interpretations, and meanings circulate through flexible interactive
human-computational collectivities or, in my terminology, cognitive assemblages’ (2019:
32). Understanding the semiotic manifestations of this revolution will require the work
of translation specialists who focus on the interrelationship of representations across
potentially different semantic and pragmatic representations.
couldn’t be bothered to talk to humans at all. When they did, their communications
were a soup of code and memes cobbled together out of public networks where they
had come to life. And they had dialects. One group of AIs would chat using visual
puns and turn of the century scripting languages, while another preferred binary
and medieval Latin. Who knows how they talked to each other – maybe they’d
transcended language – but when they talked to humans, they needed a translator…
Maybe translation was becoming a respected study at last.
(Newitz 2020: 248, 250)
Many scholars and scientists have made predictions about machines developing higher
cognitive abilities. These prognostications have, in fact, become something of a growth
industry, not only in academic publications, but also in the popular media.
The field of machine sentience is obviously far too vast to be treated adequately here,
but some developments are of interest to translation scholars along the lines suggested
in Newitz’s story. The most important of these was revealed by a commotion in the
popular media concerning an experiment conducted by Facebook staff in 2017. Some
media releases at the time described a situation in which two software agents engaged
in negotiation on a multi-issue bargaining task. Some of these articles also asserted
that the two software agents began to develop their own language, and the human
experimenters had to terminate their study since they had ‘lost control’ of the program.
What really occurred was more prosaic, yet still interesting to scholars of translation.
The programs were able to develop models for negotiation, initially, based upon data,
as a training set, derived from human interactions. But the behaviour of the agents was
not simply imitation of the syntax and semantics of human language. Two aspects of
THE ‘CARRYING OVER’ AND ENTANGLEMENT OF PRACTICES 47
learning – supervised and reinforcement learning – were also used. Supervised learning
uses a ‘training set’ that serves as a basis for imitation, whereas reinforcement learning ‘is
the problem faced by an agent that learns behavior through trial-and-error interactions
with a dynamic environment’ (Kaelbling et al. 1996: 237). The Facebook team used these
forms of learning together: ‘In effect, they used supervised learning to learn how to map
between language and meaning, but used reinforcement learning to help determine which
utterance to say’ (Lewis et al. 2017). As a consequence of the application of both types of
learning, software agents could develop communication protocols that diverged from the
established syntactic protocols of human languages. In essence, what the bots ‘learned’
was a derivation from English that was able to clearly achieve the aim of their bargaining
negotiations.
The development of efficient means of communication between software agents,
which is a concern in the CI community, is not new – computer scientists have been
investigating them for decades. Also, what has been mostly witnessed by the community
of investigators is determined by the cognitive structures afforded by ANNs, as well as the
methodological assumptions of agent-based modelling (ABM).
However, returning to Newitz, and considering wide, cloud-based datasets,
what happens when the training set is composed of an ANN and the ‘trial and error
interactions with a dynamic environment’, including the entire World Wide Web, along
with, potentially, an extraordinarily large number of agents with which to negotiate,
collaborate and compete? The result might be a form of communication not unlike what
Newitz portrays in her fictional account. If humans are to be included in this world of
software agents as near-equals, they would have to communicate with the agents. Here,
the traditional concerns of translation scholars have been radically expanded. Humans,
with their ‘natural languages’, would be in the linguistic minority, and the world of
communication would be numerically dominated by computers.
Features of ‘transhumanity’ and ‘transmission’ are merged when the communication
technology and processing and storage power of the ‘artificial’ is combined with human
cognitive abilities. Since multiple realms of meaning cannot be encompassed by any
single human brain, combining humans in a networked cognitive assemblage can provide
the required elaborate linkages among different kinds of representations. Furthermore,
interactions among large storehouses of knowledge, coupled with the cognitive
characteristics of humans, may well produce a kind of complex ‘trans-translational being’
that could emerge from these discrete elements. Such an entity invites us to expand our
notion of what is ‘human’. Expanding the boundaries of the definition of ‘humanity’ can
also encourage us to enlarge the field of ‘translation’ to include further vistas.
On a more mundane level, transmission’s role in translation studies has a crucial role
in the emerging transdisciplinary field of digital humanities (DH). DH practitioners are
exploring how ideas and cultural values are shared through social networks. An example
is Stanford University’s Republic of Letters project. Stanford scholars have sought to
recreate the network of European correspondents who exchanged ideas during the
seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. These were, of course, learned individuals who
could resort to the lingua franca of the time, Latin, to communicate with each other. But
how would the spread of ideas have occurred in the absence of a lingua franca? In DH
projects that involve the transmission of ideas, comprehensive databases with network
representations are needed, along with interpretations of the ‘information flow’ from one
group to another, provided by translation specialists.
48 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
Whether actual communication took place between the cherry tree in Massachusetts and
the houseplants in Chicago is not the important point of French’s demonstration. What
French provided was a framework for appreciating, and perhaps understanding, how
interaction between objects is mediated through transduction. Given the perspective that
the ‘object orientation’ perspective championed by Graham Harman and others can have
for some novel approaches to translation, transduction can serve as a method to explore
those possibilities.
compelling. For her, visualization involves a transformation (as translation) from one
format, whether quantitative or textual, into a visual form. She writes:
[T]he idea that the graphic display is a presentation of the data stands unquestioned…
The image is considered to be the data expressed in graphic form. The goal is to find
the ‘best’ and ‘clearest’ display of data, and the correlation between the data set and
presentation is assumed to be direct, a matter of equivalence.
(Drucker 2020: 2)
Here, Drucker is expressing one aspect of visualization, which is made possible by the
physical output found in the interface; yet it also applies to translation. For example,
the role of ‘correlation’ between data set and presentation is similar to the role of a
translator taking a source text and making sure that there is a ‘correct’ translation in a
target or object text. Visualizations can offer, in themselves, suggestions or motivations
for translation. Paul Kußmaul notes this cognitive effect of visualization: ‘My hypothesis
is that when solving problems of meaning in translation, visualization may be helpful.
More specifically, visualization during source text comprehension may offer a stimulus
for translation’ (2005: 379).
In addition to referring to the cognitive value of visualizations themselves, Drucker
makes a deeper point, namely that, in the DH, in particular, the term ‘data’ itself is often
used uncritically. Instead, the concept of ‘capa’ more accurately defines the input used in
the transformative process of visualization. For her,
data is information that is captured because it fits the model of what is being measured
or parameterized. In other words, all data is actually capa. The data does not exist
independently but is captured as a result of the parameters of the search… Because
data is based on models, we tend to see what we look for in terms of interpretative
agendas.
(2020: 2)
The implication of her view is that, at least in some cases, the cornerstone of information
science, the concept of data, is not as observer-independent as some enthusiasts of the
‘digital age’ would have us believe. For her, the very act of using data in some contexts is
an interpretive act of translation that allows for its transformation.
Many of the issues which arise in the course of the interaction between science
or technology and society – e.g., the deleterious side effects of technology, or the
attempts to deal with social problems through the procedures of science – hang on the
answers to questions which can be asked of science and yet which cannot be answered
by science. I propose the term trans-scientific for these questions since, though they
are, epistemologically speaking, questions of fact and can be stated in the language of
science, they are unanswerable by science; they transcend science.
(1972: 209)
50 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
In Weinberg’s view, there is a domain of scientific knowledge that can intersect with
public concern, which is characterized by the term ‘trans-science’. This region is the
meeting of the methods of science – evidence, experimentation and reasoning – with
social and political values. Hence, a kind of translation occurs between these two areas.
The use of decision support and knowledge management systems can augment and
enlarge the contribution of human scientists to the area of trans-science. In the CI
community, the development of control and decision systems is an important practice.
Decision support systems and recommender systems are present in many aspects of our
web-based world. With respect to trans-science, the knowledge of natural scientists can
be represented in such systems. This process of representing knowledge in systems is a
key challenge for practitioners of artificial intelligence, and it involves processes that are
familiar to translation scholars. Basically, scientific knowledge is selected and converted
into a form that can be represented in software and hardware. These systems, in turn, can
potentially add to the discourse of scientists and the public that contemporary events have
shown is so urgently needed.
Using computer systems to model the dialogue between scientists and the public requires
this discourse to be represented in terms of the syntax and semantics of these machines,
that of functions. In computers, functions are expressed in instructions executed by a
machine. Causal reasoning can be captured in ‘if-then’ instructions; if-then statements are
expressions of conditions; that is, ‘if x is the case, then y’. Instructions that express this
relationship lie at the heart of many computer algorithms, since they allow the branching
of control within a program, based upon a single condition, or a set of conditions, being
met. But beyond the use of these commands within a program, if-then statements can
express a fundamental aspect of human intelligence, that of causal reasoning. If I am a
member of the translation community, and if I see a certain word in a sentence in a source
text, then I will translate it as a particular word in a target language. This conditional
expresses a decision.
Decision-making, which lies at the heart of intelligent action, is an important area
of investigation for translation scholars. Although individual translators make decisions
about word choice, decision-making on a larger scale can also be examined by the
translation community. Reine Meylaerts, in her pioneering work on translation policy
(2011), examined decision-making in translation on a broader sociopolitical scale. For
her, ‘a policy refers to the conduct of political and public affairs by a government or
an administration, i.e. to political or public practices as implemented in legal rules.
Such practices include the so-called language and translation policies’ (2011: 163).
These rules can be articulated by if-then constructions, and they embody decisions
that are based upon these conditional statements. As Meylaerts acknowledges, some of
the foundation for her work date back to suggestions that Jiří Levý made in 1966. He
writes, ‘[T]ranslating is a decision process: a series of a certain number of consecutive
situations – moves, as in a game – situations imposing on the translator the necessity
of choosing among a certain (and very often exactly definable) number of alternatives’
(2012: 72). Levý proposes that the cognitive act of translation is represented as a
tree-like structure, representing different options based on conditional, or if-then,
statements. These tree structures lie at the basis of computer-based decision support
systems. These structures, furthermore, are like the parse-tree representations of syntax
found in generative grammars. As Levý writes, ‘The suggestions presented here aim at
constructing a generative model of translation by means of the methods used in defining
decision problems’ (2012: 95).
THE ‘CARRYING OVER’ AND ENTANGLEMENT OF PRACTICES 51
Levý’s work was but a start of the effort to computationally model decision-making
in the translation process. More recently, in 1994, Wolfram Wilss updated and provided
more methodological detail to Levý’s earlier proposal. Wilss recognized that the decision-
making process in translation is an information-processing procedure that is ‘an interaction
between the translator’s cognitive system, his/her knowledge bases, the task specification
and the “problem space” in which the task of translation resides’ (1994: 148). Wilss
notes, rightly, that (at the time of the writing of his article) translation theorists had
not incorporated the theorical work done by decision theorists of the 1970s and 1980s.
His model, along with the earlier model of Levý, fits into the view of computing and
information studies as transformations of symbolic systems in a straightforward way,
with one important exception – the notions of feedback are not always fully articulated
in this way of viewing computation. The emphasis here is upon functions, algorithms and
data structures.
An important aspect of Wilss’s work focuses on the importance of pre-choice behaviour.
He characterizes ‘pre-choice’ behaviour as ‘determining when and how to decide,
determining when to seek more information or more alternatives, and determining when
not to decide or when to revoke a decision in favour of a better one’ (1994: 148). This
emphasis on pre-choice behaviour can help clarify the tasks and roles of computational
practice in the translation community. One set of inputs, as source texts, to a program
might involve the translation of mundane transactions. In fact, this activity is the basis
of much of the work that human translators perform for various organizations. For
simple translations, where there is a clear functional mapping from source text to target
text, the symbolic manipulation mode of computation and information handling might
be completely appropriate. For complicated situations, the practices of the translation
community should draw upon cognitive theories of decision-making that explore
alternatives for a particular translation, establish conditions for accepting that translation,
and determine criteria for changing it.
Translation scholars might appropriate software practices in the CI community
that have modelled ‘decision-making’ processes. In addition, the possible store of
information for making translations (and the decisions in making translations) is much
greater once computer networks and distributed databases are used. Also, the category-
generating aspects of ANNs, coupled with symbolic transformations, makes possible a
range of analytical activities. These developments have resulted in a class of decision
system, knowledge management systems (KMS), that have been used in the business
environment, and which might be useful adjuncts to not only processing translations but
also understanding how the act of translation works.
There is considerable debate among scholars about what a KMS is. This definition,
offered by John and JoAnne Girard, captures some of a KMS’s important attributes:
The last attribute involving tacit knowledge is a major representation challenge faced by
many in the CI community, that is, making explicit what is implicit.
52 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
A KMS that could be adapted for the community of translators is an exciting goal
for this group. At the most basic level, a KMS, which is usually found in organizations,
could serve as a focus of attention that could bring disparate translators together in a
more structured community. Information sharing among translators could be facilitated,
since a KMS would retrieve information from disparate collections of data in many
languages found in a networked, distributed environment. This collection could ideally be
constituted as a systematic corpus of ‘languages’ that can be analysed by many users who
embrace comparative methods. Teams from the CI and translator communities, working
together to understand the processes of making decisions in a translational context better,
as well as approaching the difficult problem of representing and using the tacit knowledge
of translators, can implement and test their findings in a KMS. Such a system, with its
encoding of institutional protocols and decision-making, might provide a computational
means for modelling ‘translation policy’, as articulated by Meylaerts. Finally, by making
the information that is the result of a knowledge management translation system available
and disseminated to a wider group, the ideals of ‘trans-science’, which brings together
disparate intellectual communities, can be better realized.
With respect to building such a simulation, the recent work of Marco Civico is a
valuable starting point. In ‘Evidence from an Agent-Based Model of Language Contact’
(2019), he develops an agent-based model that simulates language contact within a
multilingual community where there are a majority of agents who use one language, and
a minority who use another. He writes,
Civico’s research brings together ABM simulations with theories of complexity. The
interactions of individuals who speak the language of the majority of the population with
individuals in the linguistic minority can be modelled using this method. The analysis
of these interactions can have larger implications for understanding the sociopolitical
relationship between dominant and subordinate groups, Civico’s approach, however, is
but one starting point for thinking about simulations in a broader way.
Bruno Latour provides an intellectual starting point for these broader considerations
when he writes
more supple than the notion of system, more historical than the notion of structure,
more empirical than the notion of complexity, the idea of network is the Ariadne’s
thread of these interwoven stories… [Such a thread] would allow us to pass with
continuity from the local to the global, from the human to the non-human. It is the
thread of networks of practices and instruments, of documents and translations.
(1993: 3, 121)
Latour later regrets his use of the term ‘network’, since it has come to signify a set of
technologies and social theories that have replaced, in many peoples’ minds, what he
meant by ‘Ariadne’s thread of these interwoven stories’. As he writes, ‘More precisely
it is a change of topology. Instead of thinking in terms of surfaces –two dimension – or
spheres – three dimension – one is asked to think in terms of nodes that have as many
dimensions as they have connections’ (2017: 176). Furthermore, keeping with the
centrality of the use of agents in simulations, he writes,
Hence, deeper thinking about simulation can give rise to general theories of the
relationships of persons, to not only each other but also the non-human world.
In terms of translation studies, the possibilities of this non-human world are explored
by Hito Steyerl (2020). In her essay, following the work of Walter Benjamin (see his
‘Languages of Man’), she writes, ‘[W]hat if things could speak? What would they tell
us? Or are they speaking already and we just don’t hear them? And who is doing the
translating?’ (168). In Civico’s simulation, he models the interactions of speakers of
natural languages. But a tantalizing prospect for translation studies is to include new
objects into computer-based representations. Here, the widening of the translational
ontology (or new areas that are investigated by translation scholars) can widen the domain
of knowledge representations that are modelled by CI practitioners.
One candidate for enlarging translational ontology is found in the work of Finbarr
Barry Flood. His motivation, like Civico’s, relates to understanding the dynamics between
hegemonic and subaltern populations. He writes,
The historical master narratives in which both those subjects have been inscribed are
dominated by the idea of great (or lesser) civilizations, ‘a world of bounded spaces and
identities, among which people may move but within which they live. This invariably
encourages the ‘vertical fallacy’, the idea that the identity of human agents who act
to shape such phenomena (and by extension, the cultural forms and practices with
which they are associated) can be adequately represented by oppositional tabulations.
The subjects with which the identities and identifications of premodern subjects were
imbricated and by which they were implicated have similarly been imbued with an
identity that inheres in essence, form and function, rather than agency, circulation
and use.
(Flood 2009: 265)
The case that supports these theoretical assertions is found in Flood’s book, Objects of
Translation: Medieval Culture and Medieval ‘Hindu-Muslim’ Encounter. As a historical
backdrop, Flood examines the south-central areas of Asia (today the regions that are
found in Afghanistan, Pakistan and northern India) during the period from the early
eighth to the early thirteenth centuries. Of particular interest here is his discussion
concerning the introduction and transfer of material objects between Islamic and Indic
cultures in the ninth and tenth centuries. A salient example is found ‘in the circulation
of items and modes of dress, and its implications for differing conceptions of the body’
(Flood 2009: 13). A particular case of such circulation is found in the appropriation of
‘Turko-Persian modes of dress’ by members of the Buddhist hierarchy in the conquered
area of northern India. Identifying the variables that are embodied in the agents of the
Islamic figures’ original apparel and the adoption of these forms of dress by agents
of the Buddhist elite would constitute, in itself, an elucidation of the initial and final
conditions for this ‘translation’ (as reception). A computer representation of this
translation of dress from one culture to another would be a way to consider the relevant
variables and to visualize this process. The work of building a computational ontology
can, hence, work in tandem with the models developed by the translation community,
each set of practices enriching the other.
Another candidate for widening the domain of translational ontology is found in the
emerging field of ‘sound studies’, which elevates the importance of sound (in contrast
to the visual) for defining and understanding the dynamics of cultural identification and
56 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
change. Music of one culture is usually translated or interpreted and then relocated
in another culture, or at least another cultural context, through scholarly discourse.
Some striking examples of this work are found in the studies done by Thomas Irvine
(2020) and Sheryl Chow (2020: 83), which examine the encounter between European
and Chinese musical cultures of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. In both
works, careful textual analyses of the interpretation by various European travellers
and thinkers are made to elucidate the transmission and reception of Chinese musical
sounds in the West. Here, the techniques of textual analysis by computers could help. An
intellectually daring project could involve defining groups of agents in different cultures
and attempting to simulate the reception and transmission of features of music from one
group to the other one.
A virtue of building computational simulations of cultural transmission is that they lead
to a deeper appreciation of the processes of translation, while expanding the boundary
of translation studies. At the same time, translation scholars can inform members of the
CI community about the characteristics of translation objects that become knowledge
representations in the computational domain. Returning to the idea of ‘system’, the
construction of a system allows us to think explicitly about the variables and functions
that constitute it. Putting the elements together so that they function in a particular
manner gives us an idea of what that system is from an operational point of view. Also
present is the role of prediction and explanation – if we vary the values of the variables or
change the functions, we can retrodictively explain why a particular translation pattern
took place. As the symmetrical opposite of retrodiction, correct prediction gives us the
assurance that the simulation is correct.
Entanglement between the practices of the translation and CI communities is also
displayed through a consideration of ‘syn-’ words. Many of the concepts that Kobus
Marais believes can enlarge the scope of traditional views of translation have the prefix
‘trans’. There is another domain of terms that can also enhance our view of translation
that begin with the prefix ‘syn’. English language appropriations from the Greek root
‘syn’ can have two meanings, both of interest to communities of computer scientists
and translation scholars. The first of these senses of ‘syn’ refers to a ‘bringing together’,
as a complement to the sense of ‘trans’ as ‘carrying over’. One of the practices of the
CI community, communication, ‘brings together’ various aspects of ‘trans’ words, to
construct web pages that combine, or mix, media of different forms. Designing these
interfaces requires an act of transformation, as discussed above, as well as the ability to
effectively combine media in a way that provides an experience for the viewer. Combining
media is not limited to only the effective composition of web pages – it also extends to the
design of multimedia simulations. The web interface, which media theorist Lev Manovich
sees as a ‘new aesthetic category’, is made possible by bringing together some of the
‘trans’ processes that are practiced in new areas of translation studies.
A second sense of ‘syn’ concerns the activity of establishing ‘likeness’, which is captured
in the word ‘synonym’. This comparative aspect has been captured in the work of scholars
such as Caroline Walker Bynum (2020) and Paul North (2021). In particular, Bynum
observes:
The persistent need to compare raises immediately the problem of how to choose
appropriate comparanda. The ideas, images, and institutions of ‘now’ that we use to
think with must bear some useful ‘likeness’ to what we are studying in the past. But
this, in turn, raises the question of what constitutes ‘likeness.’ It is my contention that
THE ‘CARRYING OVER’ AND ENTANGLEMENT OF PRACTICES 57
scholars in many areas of the humanities have failed to understand how complicated
‘likeness’ as a concept is and how difficult it is to choose appropriate ‘likes’ in doing
comparative study. It is also my contention that there are little-explored resources in
the western tradition for both interrogating and understanding ‘likeness’.
(2020: 31)
For the translation community, this research is potentially very important. Computer and
information science is increasingly being seen as vital to the functioning of the world in
the twenty-first century, yet a major practice of training individuals in these fields is being
largely ignored. Effective methods of educating nascent programmers should include
the skills that translators have always practiced. Here is an area where the translation
community’s practices should be examined, and perhaps appropriated, by the CI group.
Further study is obviously required, and it is probably not enough to simply train
computer programmers to act like translators. To effectively enact an education
programme, the underlying cognitive assumptions regarding learning new practices needs
to be understood. In the field of translation studies, the roots of a cognitive ‘process-
oriented’ approach are found in the classic works of James Holmes and Gideon Toury.
These seminal insights have been extended by many scholars, such as Hanna Risku,
Sandra Halverson, Andrew Chesterman and Maria Tymoczko, to name a few. Yet,
recently, as Ricardo Muñoz Martín perceptively observes, ‘it is doubtful that research on
the interface between cognition and translation and interpreting can make any further
substantial progress without addressing basic questions about the object and nature of
our enterprise, and the conceptual tools we need for it’ (2017: 558). Muñoz Martín
correctly identifies the perspectives of symbolic processing, connectionist and the 4EA
(embodied, embedded, enactive, extended and affective) as central to the ongoing effort to
incorporate the cognitive point of view into translation studies. The field of computational
cognitive science, however, is in a state of flux, in which all of these perspectives (as well
as possible relationships between them) play research roles. Given the shifting loyalties
of computationally oriented cognitive scientists, it will be difficult for any theorist in the
translation community to authoritatively embrace any of these positions at this time as
a single paradigm for cognitive translation studies. Even with this uncertainty regarding
methodologies, the translation community’s contributions to thinking about the process
of translation can inform the pedagogical assumptions of the CI community. Perhaps
translation scholars need to take even more seriously what Patrick Colm Hogan said about
literature and the arts: ‘If you have a theory of the human mind that does not explain the
arts, you have a very poor theory of the human mind’ (2003: 3). (Translation scholars can
replace the word ‘art’ with ‘translation’.) By informing a theory of cognition, which can
shed light on the way we learn to translate representations, translation scholars can help
the pedagogic practice of teaching an important skill, that of computer programming.
But even more fundamentally, the cognitive investigations of an even greater number
of translation scholars can give insights to all disciplinary communities who regard the
process of making and using representations as a central aspect of their practice.
CONCLUSION
It is not at all surprising, given the growth of computer and information science over the
past decades, that practices from this community would pervade those of other groups
and lead to new areas of investigation within them. Most of what has been ‘carried
over’ from the CI community has been characterized by words with the ‘trans’ prefix.
The broad practices embodying control/decision-making, communication, exploration,
generation and analysis have been transmuted by this ‘carrying over’ process, into new
practices and areas of investigation for the translation community. One of the values
held by many in our age, however, is that computer and information science provides the
paradigmatic representations and processes that should be embraced by all disciplines.
THE ‘CARRYING OVER’ AND ENTANGLEMENT OF PRACTICES 59
Computer and information science has high ‘disciplinary capital’, that is, this field is
estimated as having high ‘worth’ through the economic, social, intellectual and political
value that it can bestow upon individuals and institutions. This has led some members of
the CI community to acquire a kind of intellectual arrogance, making them believe that
the methods of their group are the only way to represent aspects of reality. It is a major
thesis of this chapter that the ‘carrying over’ of practices between the CI and translation
communities need not be one-way. Insights by members of the translation community
about simulation and cognition, for example, can be fruitfully appropriated by the
CI community. This interchange can enrich the CI community’s high level of disciplinary
capital, but it can also raise that of the community of translators. This process of mutual
sharing – as transdisciplinarity – not only encourages ‘translation beyond translation’ but
can also help bring about ‘computer science beyond computation’.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The author is deeply grateful to Kobus Marais, Jean Chambers, Hettie Human and two
anonymous referees for their comments on this chapter.
REFERENCES
Anderson, K. (2014), ‘Object Intermediaries: How New Media Artists Translate the Language
of Things’, Leonardo, 47 (4): 352–9. https://doi.org/10.1162/LEON_a_00840
Baker, M. and G. Saldanha (2019), Routledge Encyclopedia of Translation Studies, London,
UK and New York: Routledge.
BBC News. (2015), ‘China: Scientists Decode Panda “Language”’, BBC News, 5 November
2015. Available online: https://www.bbc.com/news/blogs-news-from-elsewhere-34733258
Behrens, J. T. (1997), ‘Principles and Procedures of Exploratory Data Analysis’, Psychological
Methods, 2 (2): 132. https://doi.org/10.1037/1082-989X.2.2.131
Bengio, Y., Y. Lecun and G. Hinton (2021), ‘Deep Learning for AI’, Communications of the
ACM, 64 (7): 58–65. https://doi.org/10.1145/3448250
Bynum, C. W. (2020), ‘Interrogating “Likeness”. Fake Friends, Similia Similibus, and
Heavenly Crowns’, Historische Anthropologie, 28 (1): 31–56. https://doi.org/10.7788/
hian.2020.28.1.31
Chow, S. (2020), ‘A Localized Boundary Object: Seventeenth-Century Western Music Theory
in China’, Early Music History, 39: 75–113. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0261127920000078
Civico, M. (2019), ‘The Dynamics of Language Minorities: Evidence from an Agent-Based
Model of Language Contact’, Journal of Artificial Societies and Social Simulation, 22 (4):
1–3. https://doi.org/10.18564/jasss.4097
Drucker, J. (2020), Visualization and Interpretation, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
Epstein, J. M. (2006), Generative Social Science: Studies in Agent-Based Computational
Modeling, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.
Ferreira Duarte, J., A. Assis Rosa and T. Seruya (eds) (2006), Translation Studies at the
Interface of Disciplines, Vol. 68, Amsterdam, Netherlands: John Benjamins.
Flood, F. B. (2009), Objects of Translation: Material Culture and Medieval ‘Hindu-Muslim’
Encounter, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.
Freudenthal, H. (1960), Lincos: Design of a Language for Cosmic Discourse, Amsterdam:
North Holland Publishing Company.
60 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
Biology of Translation:
The Role of Agents
ALEXEI A. SHAROV
INTRODUCTION
Translation studies is usually focused on the transfer/transformation of meanings from
one human sign system to another – especially between languages. The term ‘translation’
is almost identical to ‘interpretation’, but ’translation’ is more relevant when it is applied
to lower-level or automated processes that preserve most of the incipient meanings. For
example, Kalevi Kull and Peeter Torop (2003: 318) wrote, ‘Translation, quite generally,
means that some signs in one language are put into a correspondence with some signs in
another language’, and they also assume that ‘the translation method is formed as a set of
technical procedures’ (ibid.: 315). Kobus Marais (2019) proposes broadening the meaning
of ‘translation’ from the perspective of Peircean semiotics. In this sense, translation refers
to semiotic process phenomena that relate the interpretants in different systems of signs,
and the process involves contextually guided construction of meaning in a mental or real
world. Such a generalized notion of translation was proposed earlier by Roman Jakobson
(1959: 233); he called it intersemiotic translation, which is ‘an interpretation of verbal
signs by means of signs of nonverbal sign systems’.
In this chapter, I discuss various biological translation processes, or ‘natural translation’,
and follow in the footsteps of Jesper Hoffmeyer (2003) and Kalevi Kull and Peeter Torop
(2003), in chapters published in the volume, Translation, Translation (Petrilli 2003).
Hoffmeyer considers natural translation to be ‘any process whereby a potential message
is made accessible to a natural system that would not otherwise be capable of making
sense of this message’ (2003: 335).
Biology is perhaps the only discipline, besides the humanities, where translation has
become a widely used technical term. In molecular biology, this term means protein
synthesis on the ribosome, where a sequence of nucleotides in a messenger RNA (mRNA)
is used as a code (i.e. genetic code) for attaching amino acids to the elongating protein
polymer in a specific order (see next section). Another unique role of translation in biology
is that, in contrast to anthroposemiotics, which is focused on signs themselves in respect
to human language, communication and knowledge, biology is focused on studying
organisms, parts of organisms (e.g. organs, cells, organelles, molecular complexes) and
multi-organism systems (e.g. colonies and symbiotic consortia), which can all be called
agents, and signs utilized by agents as information-carrying tools (Sharov 2016a) are
of secondary importance. In this respect, Marcel Danesi (2001) considers semiotics
64 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
subservient to biology. Even so-called natural signs do not exist without agents, because
the meaning of these signs is agent-specific; in other words, signs are grounded in agency
(Sharov 2018). In particular, translation of signs and messages is performed by agents
as a part of their living functions, and translation is aimed at constructing, repairing,
recruiting or reprogramming those agents, their subagents and/or external agents. Agents
are either living organisms or products of organisms (e.g. ribosomes, protein receptors,
or autonomous artefacts, such as robots). I attribute translation to agents of varying
complexity, from molecular mechanisms to cognitive animals (e.g. all vertebrates and
many insects) and humans.
Here, I discuss the classical example of biological translation, which is protein
synthesis, as well as alternative translation processes in molecular, cellular, developmental,
physiological, behavioural, social, ecological and evolutionary aspects of living systems.
Translation and interpretation of signs in organisms and other agents are studied in a
discipline of biosemiotics that integrates semiotics with biology (Hoffmeyer 2008). It
represents a junction of the humanities with science, and draws science beyond mechanistic
reasoning.
In more detail, the transfer of information from nucleic acid to nucleic acid, or from
nucleic acid to protein may be possible, but transfer from protein to protein, or from
protein to nucleic acid is impossible. Information means here the precise determination
of sequence, either of bases in the nucleic acid or of amino acid residues in the protein.
(1958: 153)
Later, it was discovered that some viruses can copy the RNA sequence to DNA using
enzyme ‘reverse transcriptase’ – this shows that the central dogma is not universal.
However, there are no examples of natural processes that convert a protein sequence to
an original nucleotide sequence.
BIOLOGY OF TRANSLATION: THE ROLE OF AGENTS 65
The details of information transfer from a gene to the protein, known as gene
expression, are as follows. The first step is transcription, which is copying of a DNA
sequence into the newly synthesized RNA sequence performed by the RNA polymerase
enzyme. Both DNA and RNA are nucleic acids, which are long polymers of nucleotides
linked via sugar (desoxyribose or ribose, respectively) and a phosphate. DNA is a double-
stranded spiral (helix), where two polymers have matching pairs of nucleotides: A, T, G
and C in one strand match to T, A, C and G, respectively, in the other strand. In contrast,
RNA is a single-strand polymer synthesized in a template-matching way on one of the
DNA strands. In the nucleus of a cell, the RNA polymerase, assisted with one or multiple
transcription factors, binds to the starting end of a gene, called promoter. This action is
followed by the separation of two DNA strands, and RNA polymerase moves along one
of the DNA strands and adds nucleotides to the RNA that match to the DNA nucleotides
using the same rule of pairing as in the DNA helix. The only difference is that, instead
of the T nucleotide, the RNA uses a similar substitute, U. From the semiotic point of
view, biological transcription is a subtype of translation, which is literal and automated,
but not deterministic, because it is regulated by a large number of internal and external
signals. Transcription of a gene sequence is a goal-directed semiotic process (in contrast
to unintended making footprints on a sandy beach), because it presumably emerged as
a result of adaptive evolution from other primordial metabolic functions (e.g. RNA-
templated RNA synthesis), and it is performed by the RNA polymerase enzyme, an agent
that evolved to perform this specific function guided by imprinted goal directedness.
After being synthesized, the RNA becomes separated from the DNA via breaking
the weak hydrogen bonds between nucleotides. The RNA is usually processed further
by polyadenylation (adding a tail of many A-nucleotides), and splicing (removing non-
coding fragments). Processed RNA molecules are transported from the nucleus to the
cytoplasm through nuclear pores. Their major function is to guide the protein synthesis
on ribosomes, although some species of RNA have other functions – they are called non-
coding RNA. Using the language metaphor, a protein-coding RNA molecule is called
messenger RNA (mRNA), because its sequence is a ‘message’ to the ribosome. A ribosome
is a molecular agent that consists of multiple non-coding RNA and protein components. It
binds to the starting end of mRNA and makes a polypeptide (long continuous unbranched
chain of amino acids) with the specific order of amino acids as programmed by the mRNA.
A polypeptide is processed further to make the final functional product – a protein – via
folding, cutting, linking distal loops, insertion into the membrane and modification of a
few individual amino acids.
Translation at the genetic/molecular level can be formally described by a set of rules
(known as the genetic code) that converts the sequence of nucleotides of mRNA sequences
into the sequence of amino acids in the polypeptide. The sequence of nucleotides is first
partitioned into triplets (also called codons), and then each of the 64 possible triplets is
assigned a certain meaning in the synthesis of the polypeptide. Most triplets (n = 61)
entail adding a specific amino acid (from the set of 20) to the end of the polypeptide,
and three stop codons (UAG, UGA and UAA) entail termination of polypeptide synthesis.
Translation starts at some distance from the beginning of the mRNA, and the start codon
is usually AUG (less frequently UUG or GUG). Usually, the first start codon from the
beginning of the mRNA is the one used for starting translation. The AUG codon also
encodes the methionine amino acid in eukaryotes; thus, a large number of proteins have
a methionine amino acid at their first position. The function of the start codon is not only
to mark the start of translation but also to define the reading frame, which is the partition
66 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
of the coding mRNA sequence into triplets. There are three possible reading frames, and
the first start codon in mRNA does not always mark the longest open reading frame (from
the start codon to the first stop codon). Computationally identified, the longest open
reading frame is a more reliable indicator of translation in vivo than the position of the
first start codon. However, a ribosome translates the mRNA sequentially and, therefore,
it cannot ‘predict’ the length of the open reading frame. Thus, there should be additional
factors that assist ribosomes in finding the correct start codon.
The biochemistry of protein synthesis is much more complex than the formal genetic
code. The main agent is a ribosome, which interacts with one linear mRNA and a
continuous flow of small noncoding RNA (75–90 nucleotides long) called transport RNA
(tRNA), which are each loaded with a phosphorylated amino acid and enzyme aminoacyl
phosphatase. The tRNA molecule is folded into a cross-like shape, and one end extends
three sequential nucleotides, called anticodon, that should match to a codon in the
mRNA. The ribosome handles three mRNA codons at a time: two of them are occupied
by matching tRNA, and one is empty. The empty space can be filled by a third tRNA,
whose anticodon matches the corresponding mRNA codon. If matched, the tRNA moves
into the next position, where it brings the amino acid next to the growing polypeptide
chain. The ribosome acts as a catalyst to connect covalently the new amino acid to the
polypeptide. The tRNA is then moved to the third exit position in the ribosome, from
which it is released into the cytoplasm. The whole process requires energy in the form of
four ATP1 molecules converted to ADP per each attached amino acid.
Ribosomes have a number of additional functions besides translation itself. Binding
a ribosome to the mRNA requires interaction with a translation initiation factor EIF4E,
which is used by cells to regulate the overall rate of translation. A ribosome can detect
errors in translation and respond by stopping and marking the damaged protein for
degradation. Also, ribosomes can detect errors in the mRNA sequence itself. For example,
if one nucleotide is missing in the mRNA (due to either transcription error or mutation
in a gene), then the reading frame shifts, which could create a premature stop codon.
A ribosome stops translation at this codon and initiates a so-called nonsense-mediated
mRNA decay mechanism that ends up with mRNA degradation. Another common defect
in mRNA is premature polyadenylation. If this defect appears in the coding region of
mRNA, it causes translation halt and polypeptide degradation (Hildebrandt et al. 2019).
they are potentially infinite, because they are supported by potentially immortal lineages
of agents that use them.
The semiotization of molecular biology is possible by accepting that genetic sequences
are meaningful, and meaning is not a material thing, such as a protein molecule, but a
process, where proteins are constructed and then play functional roles. In this sense,
protein synthesis is, indeed a translation – a transfer of meanings from one material carrier
(mRNA) to another (protein). This kind of sign process is also known as endosemiosis,
because it occurs within the limits of the same organism, as opposed to communication
between organisms (Von Uexküll et al. 1993).
Protein synthesis is not, however, the end point of translation, because proteins play
important functions in the cell as either subagents, signs, or scaffolds. In this respect,
biological translation appears to be somewhat different from human linguistic translation,
where verbal signs are interpreted only by means of other signs that belong to the same
or different sign system (Jakobson 1959), and not by making new functional agents.
However, this difference can be downplayed if we take an alternative look at linguistic
translation as a (potentially endless) process of agency change. Translated texts can be
seen as the means to change the knowledge, psychology and behaviour of our fellow
humans who speak a different language. Thus, linguistic translation may eventually
produce a different generation of human agents. Moreover, these new human agents will
change their material and cultural environments that serve in the long term as scaffolds
for various human functions. This line of thinking reveals a similarity between linguistic
translation in humans and molecular translation in cells.
Acknowledging the similarity between linguistic translation in humans and molecular
translation in cells does not mean downplaying the obvious, crucial difference: molecular
translation is mechanistic, whereas linguistic translation is relational in the sense that
meanings are projected by agents to the outside world. Some philosophers might say
that mechanistic processes are not semiotic at all and, thus, it is fruitless to talk about the
semiotics of protein synthesis. The problem with this view is that life, with its protein
synthesis, is a product of adaptive evolution and includes meaningful innovations that
resemble human knowledge. Neither physical laws nor other, similar concepts, like
‘chemical evolution’, can sufficiently explain the origin and evolution of life. If the early
steps of evolution involved primitive heredity and natural selection, then the heredity
carriers were signs interpreted by primordial agents. Thus, the evolution of agents
driven by heredity and natural selection is not chemical but biological. According to
biosemiotics (see below), life and semiosis are coextensive. Following this thesis, I invite
readers to recognize that sign processes (semiosis) can exist even in agents that interpret
signs mechanistically, such as ribosomes. To distinguish it from mental semiosis, it is
called ‘protosemiosis’, following the terminology of Giorgio Prodi (1988). In addition to
ribosomes, natural protosemiotic agents include functional proteins, viruses (whose status
in the tree of life is still disputed) and bacteria, which are unquestionably alive (Sharov
and Vehkavaara 2015).
The action of biological mechanisms is often confused with abstract computation,
where predefined rules of change are applied deterministically at every step. In contrast
to abstract computation, living agents (even mechanistic ones) make mistakes and correct
them later, if possible. Many mistakes remain uncorrected, but organisms manage to
compensate their downstream effects, and even take some advantage of these mistakes
as a source of adaptability in changing conditions (Eigen and Schuster 1979). According
to the so-called new mechanistic philosophy, ‘[a] mechanism is a structure performing a
function in virtue of its component parts, component operations, and their organization’
68 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
(Bechtel and Abrahamsen 2005: 423). In other words, a mechanism is a system whose
change can be explained (at least partially) by the dynamics of lower-level components.
Thus, mechanisms can be non-deterministic and adaptive.
Protosemiotic agency can be understood as a signal-response (or input-output) system,
where both inputs and outputs are internal, because protosemiotic agents have no
representations of the outer world. Bacteria do not ‘know’ that chemoreceptors become
activated by external attractant molecules (e.g. glucose) – they respond to the activation
of chemoreceptors as input. Similarly, bacteria can rotate flagella clockwise or counter-
clockwise, which causes either slow movement with turns, or fast and straight movement,
respectively. Bacteria control the direction of flagella rotation, depending on the activity
of chemoreceptors, and move towards higher concentration of attractants (Porter et al.
2011). This effect is called chemotaxis. However, bacteria do not ‘know’ that flagella
rotation causes their movement in space. They simply translate incoming signals into
responses via a genetically encoded program.
Biological translation can be illuminated by the semiotic theory of Charles Peirce,
who defined the sign as a triadic relation between a sign vehicle (representamen), which
represents an object, and the result of interpretation, which is called an interpretant (Peirce
1998: EP2.478).3 Peirce’s object can be a material entity denoted by a sign, though, more
often, it is an idea of an object or class of objects, which Peirce sometimes called the
ground of the representamen (Peirce 1932: CP2.228). The theory of Peirce was tailored
to mental interpretation, and it, thus, needs some adjustment if it is to be applied to
molecular-level processes. Protosemiotic agents receive signals (that play the role of sign
vehicles), but they have no capacity to perceive objects (Sharov and Vehkavaara 2015).
Instead, they interpret signals directly as actions without referencing objects.
Protosemiosis can be described as ‘know-how’ without ‘know-what’. Molecular
signs do have meanings, but these are utility meanings, rather than mental conceptual
meanings. Utility meanings are disjointed, because each step of translation captures only
a fragment of the meaning. For example, a ribosome makes proteins without considering
the following steps, such as protein folding, processing and protein function. Thus, the
full meaning of a gene is accessible only for external competent observers (e.g. humans)
and cannot be captured by a ribosome or any other protosemiotic agent.
PRAGMATICS OF PROTEINS
The events that ensue after protein synthesis can be called extended translation (or
interpretation). A protein is produced in the form of an unfolded peptide, which is not
functional. Folding and modification of proteins require direct assistance from various
molecular agents that chemically modify amino acids, establish disulphide bonds between
distant cysteine amino acids or cut the peptide at specific locations. Indirect assistance
includes making scaffolds, and homeostatic control of necessary physical conditions.
After processing, a protein becomes functional and can do one or multiple jobs in the cell.
For example, transcription factors are proteins that activate or repress the transcription
of genes. These proteins bind with high affinity to specific DNA motifs located, usually,
in the promoter of a gene. Then, they recruit RNA polymerase to the promoter and/or
activate it to start transcription. Repressors do the opposite: they either prevent binding
of the RNA polymerase or stop its progression. The action of transcription factors can
be modified by small molecules that play the role of chemical signals. For example, in
bacteria, a small cAMP molecule binds to the cAMP receptor protein, which, in turn,
activates the transcription of genes responsible for lactose metabolism (Lodish et al.
BIOLOGY OF TRANSLATION: THE ROLE OF AGENTS 69
2000). A special protein, adenylyl cyclase, which is an agent that converts ATP molecules
into cAMP, is produced inside cells in response to signals that indicate the lack of energy.
Proteins and protein complexes can perform intricate sign-regulated functions.
Bacterial chemoreceptors are transmembrane proteins, which are activated by external
stimuli (attractants or repellents) on the outer side, and this change is followed by
generating or activating internal chemical signals (called secondary messengers) on the
inner side. Secondary messengers, such as activated kinases, in turn, activate transcription
factors, which regulate transcription of genes in the bacterial chromosome. In addition
to this main function, chemoreceptor proteins regulate their own sensitivity to external
stimuli via interaction with other enzymes, which attach or remove methyl groups at
multiple glutamic acid residues in the inner part of chemoreceptors (Porter et al. 2011).
After stimulation, the chemoreceptor is methylated and its sensitivity declines, whereas
unstimulated chemoreceptors are demethylated and their sensitivity is restored. This
mechanism allows bacteria to detect gradients of external stimuli by responding to its
increasing or decreasing concentration.
Molecular sign processes demonstrate an important role of agents. A ribosome is the
major molecular agent that performs translation, whereas transcription factors and RNA
polymerase are the molecular agents responsible for transcription. Following Peirce,
the role of agency was neglected in semiotics. Peirce introduced a triadic sign relation
(sign vehicle–object–interpretant) with no place for the agent (or interpreter). According
to Peirce, an interpretant becomes the next sign vehicle, which is interpreted further
(Figure 4.1a).
FIGURE 4.1 Structure of a semiotic process. (a) According to Peirce, a sign is associated with
an object and communicates the form/meaning to the interpretant, which becomes a new
sign that is interpreted further (e.g. by the same interpreter). (b) In protosemiosis, an agent
does not perceive an object (e.g. a metabolite and its function), but interprets signs directly as
actions (although the agent, sign and object are historically bound). An interpretant of one sign
becomes an agent that interprets other signs, which in turn change their semiotic role to agents
or signs. Historical relations are not shown for second-order interpretations.
70 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
The role of agents in semiosis, however, was emphasized by Charles Morris, who
can be considered one of the predecessors of biosemiotics (Favareau 2010: 150–5). He
suggested including the interpreter (or agent) as the fourth component of the original
triadic sign relation formulated by Peirce (Morris 1971). I consider the agent to be a
core component of a sign relation, because an agent interprets a sign and generates an
interpretant. As discussed above, protosemiotic agents cannot perceive or contemplate
objects. However, objects are still present in the sign relation. For example, bacterial
chemotaxis has emerged in evolution due to the presence of glucose in the environment,
which has shaped the evolution of bacteria for billions of years. Glucose availability has
an imprint in the bacterial genome, which can be viewed as a simple version of an ‘idea’ or
a ‘ground’, as advocated by Peirce. Thus, two timescales are combined in a sign relation:
real time and historical time (i.e. evolutionary) (Sharov and Tønnessen 2021: 199, 201).
Historical relations include adaptation of bacterial metabolism to use glucose (agent-
object), adaptation of membrane receptors to bind specifically to glucose (object-sign) and
developing mechanisms for interpretation of the signal (sign-agent). All these historical
relations are bidirectional, because they are mediated by repeated mutual interactions
(e.g. differential survival of bacteria modified their genome composition, which, in turn,
changed bacterial interaction with glucose).
Proteins are interpretants in the process of their synthesis; after folding and processing
they become agents that do not necessary play the role of signs. As agents, they perform
translation/interpretation functions on their own, and the products of interpretation (i.e.
interpretants) can be other agents or other signs (Figure 4.1b).
The main difference between agents and signs is that agents act, whereas signs signify.
In other words, agents have a power to act (i.e. they usually carry free energy to empower
actions) and use signs as information-carrying tools. Agents control their activities by
interpreting signs. The majority of agents carry at least some internal signs. In addition,
agents can be external signs for other agents. The role of interpreting agency is active and,
therefore, more important than signification.
Production of functional proteins is a goal-directed process targeted at maintenance of
identity, survival and reproduction of living cells, which is called autopoiesis. The notion of
autopoiesis was proposed by Chilean biologists Humberto Maturana and Francisco Varela
(1980) to denote systems capable of recursive self-maintenance and self-reproduction.
Autopoiesis implies a complete self-referential closure, because any substantial deficiency
in self-maintenance and self-reproduction may break future functionality of the system,
making it non-recursive. Moreover, autopoietic systems live in changing environments
and, therefore, require robustness and adaptability to persist. Thus, their self-referential
closure expands beyond their actual state and function, into the domain of potential states
and potential functions that may appear useful in changed environments. The theory of
autopoiesis is close to other concepts developed independently and almost simultaneously,
such as the metabolism-repair systems of Robert Rosen (1972), the hypercycle of Eigen
and Schuster (1979) and the chemoton of Tibor Gánti (2003[1971]).
The main merit of the notion of autopoiesis and related theories lies in the material
grounding of goal-directedness in living organisms. Indeed, circular causation and self-
referential closure explain homeostasis and adaptability in changing environments. The
limitation of this approach lies in avoiding the notions of signification and meaning. In
other words, autopoiesis failed to incorporate semiotics as a core component. In addition,
in being connected to the methodology of constructivism, Maturana and Varela share the
BIOLOGY OF TRANSLATION: THE ROLE OF AGENTS 71
Embryo development
The development of animal embryos is regulated by various signalling molecules, such as
growth factors and hormones. Hormones are typically produced by specialized glands,
secreted into the bloodstream, and affect all responsive cells in the body, whereas growth
factors can be produced by other tissue types, many of which are secreted into the
intracellular space and affect only neighbouring cells. These signalling molecules can be
seen as messages by which cells ‘communicate’ with each other. However, this metaphor
can be misleading, because human messages are based on language, where each word is
a symbol with a conventionally defined meaning. Thus, communication between cells
via chemical signals is better compared to non-verbal human signs, such as a smile, wink
or look. The question is: How are chemical signals translated by cells to guide for their
growth, reproduction, movement, differentiation or apoptosis (programmed death)?
72 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
All cells in the embryo are descendants of a single cell, which is a fertilized egg, and
they all carry the same genome. If the meanings of chemical signals were determined
by the genome, then all cells would respond similarly to each chemical signal. Such a
response would result in a structureless ball of cells, rather than an embryo. Life solves
this problem by using epigenetic factors, such as gene expression, protein synthesis and
transport, constructing cell components and organelles, and activating or silencing specific
regions of the genome. A cell needs a specific configuration of epigenetic factors to be
able to respond to a certain developmental signal, and this capacity is called competence
(Gilbert 2016). Competence requires the presence of receptor molecules, a functional
signal transduction pathway from receptors to the activation of transcription factor genes
in the nucleus, and synthesis of transcription factor proteins that, in turn, activate other
developmental genes (e.g. heart-specific or skin-specific genes) in a context-specific way.
As the fertilized egg starts dividing, daughter cells receive identical copies of
chromosomes, though the cells are not epigenetically identical. The symmetry is
initially broken by factors such as the point of spermatozoid entry and/or distribution
of yolk. Additional epigenetic heterogeneity is achieved by random activation of a
number of genes. The signalling network of cells appears unstable, because some signals
propagate via local self-amplifying effects, and send the embryo into its journey along its
development trajectory. Conrad Waddington (1957; 1968) pictured this process as a ball
rolling downhill in a complex epigenetic landscape. Valleys in this landscape can branch,
thereby creating multiple choices for downstream differentiation. Cells select their path
at these branching points depending on local conditions, such as the composition of
developmental signals. In addition, the whole epigenetic landscape can be reshaped by the
expression of certain transcription factors with strong activation or repression capacities.
Scott Gilbert (2016: 51) described this process: ‘Developmental signals are interpreted
differently depending on the previous history of the responding cell. Thus, there is a
context for the reception of a signal.’ Moreover, the same signal may have entirely
different effects in cells with a distinct epigenetic history: ‘Paracrine factors such as BMP4
can induce apoptosis, proliferation, or differentiation depending upon the history of the
responding cells’ (Gilbert 2016: 51). Thus, embryonic cells do not translate (interpret)
individual signals, but the sequence of all signals received, starting from the egg. This
sequence can also include sensing of external factors, such as temperature, diet or the
presence of competitors (Gilbert 2016).
Semiosis of embryo development can be summarized as a scaffold-based interpretation
with a dual process of scaffold-following and scaffold construction, where the scaffold
is the unfolding embryo morphology, together with the epigenetic state of each part. All
signals – genetic, epigenetic and environmental – are processed dynamically, following
the bends of the scaffold. At the same time, the interpretation of these signals updates the
shape of the scaffold by adding to or modifying its individual elements.
Immune system
The function of the immune system is to defend the organism from infection. Thus,
specialized immune cells called B-cells and T-cells emerged in evolution; they can detect
and facilitate destruction of foreign agents and their components. For example, the
function of B-cells is to produce antibodies, which are proteins that can specifically bind
to fragments of foreign macro molecules (e.g. proteins, polysaccharides, nucleic acids);
these fragments are called antigens. After binding, antibodies deactivate foreign agents
BIOLOGY OF TRANSLATION: THE ROLE OF AGENTS 73
and molecules and/or promote their destruction. Such an adaptive immune response
represents a distributed semiotic system that ‘learns’ to attack foreign antigens and
simultaneously spares the organism’s own components. Foreign antigens are recognized
as shapes (including geometry, patterns of hydrophobicity, and/or charge) and, thus, the
goal of adaptive immunity is to translate these shapes into complementary shapes of
protein receptors and antibodies that can tightly bind to antigens.
In contrast to code-based protein synthesis and scaffold-based embryo development,
immune translation is based on random trials and errors. Both B-cells and T-cells
have special immune receptors encoded by genes that are subject to intensive random
modification and reshuffling during early maturation of these cells. Thus, each clone
of B-cells and T-cells has a unique structure of their immune receptors on the outer
membrane surface (Lodish et al. 2000). ‘Learning’ occurs via negative and positive
selection of these clones, which is regulated via feedback from receptors’ binding
capacity. Young, ‘inexperienced’ B-cells – located first in the bone marrow and then in the
spleen – and T-cells – located in the thymus – first ‘learn’ not to respond to self antigens.
This is done by eliminating those cells, whose immune receptors bind to self antigens that
are abundant in the passing blood. Note that here we use the word ‘learning’ figuratively,
because immune cells cannot change their receptor genes after they were modified in
early development. After this negative selection, immune cells are harmless to the self,
but they can be lethal to invaders. Semiotically, this selection process has been described
as building ‘an expected iconic absence’ (Hoffmeyer 2008: 237). In particular, references
to potentially harmful microbes (Hoffmeyer calls it ‘other-reference’) emerge via negative
selection against self-reference.
Mature immune cells are released in the bloodstream, but they are still ‘naïve’ in the
sense that they have not encountered any foreign antigens. Encountering an antigen that
can be bound by immune receptors is the turning point in the fate of immune cells that
makes them functional; this process is called activation. There are two major mechanisms
of activation: via encountering either the raw antigen, or via encountering the antigen
that has been already processed by another cell and then ‘presented’ on its surface,
together with immune protein called major histocompatibility complex (MHC) class II
molecule (Lodish et al. 2000). Several cell types have the capacity to present antigens on
their surface, including B-cells, macrophages, and dendritic cells. These cells internalize
antigens by either phagocytosis (macrophages) or endocytosis (B cells), breaking the
antigen into fragments and displaying them on the outer membrane surface attached to
class II MHC protein. Activation of B-cells and T-cells via antigen-presenting cells is highly
specific and, thus, it is the major component of the adaptive immune response. Activated
B-cells start producing antibodies, which are exact copies of surface receptors used for cell
activation; thus, they are specifically targeted at detected foreign antigens. In addition,
they divide rapidly to amplify their effect. The population of T-cells is heterogeneous,
and includes multiple subtypes. One subtype is called T-helpers because these cells help to
mobilize other immune cells. Once activated, they divide and secrete cytokines, which are
signalling molecules that stimulate the division of various types of immune cells. Another
important subtype of T-cells is called killer T-cells, which specialize in destroying virus-
infected cells.
Activated immune cells keep dividing, supporting a massive response against infection.
After pathogenic bacteria or viruses are eliminated, most immune cells die, though a
small number of B-cells and T-cells persist for a long time to protect an organism against
74 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
repeated infection by the same kind of pathogen. They are called memory-cells, and
support a long-term immunity against many diseases.
Nervous system
Neural signals are the fastest in the organism (from 0.61 m/s for pain to c. 100 m/s
for muscle contraction signals). Thus, neural signalling became the most important
information channel in animals, which need rapid sensing and movement for their survival.
The nervous system consists of nerve cells, called neurons, which are connected by cell
projections of two types: axons and dendrites. Dendrites carry incoming neural signals,
whereas axons transmit outgoing signals. The axon often branches near the end, and each
branch terminates with a synapse at the dendrite surface of another neuron, or on the
membrane of a responding (e.g. muscle) cell. Synapses can be seen as miniature chemical
reactors controlled by incoming electrical and chemical signals. The electrical signal is
a wave of membrane depolarization, and chemical signals, called neurotransmitters,
include excitatory factors, such as acetylcholine and glutamate, and repressive factors,
such as GABA (gamma aminobutyric acid).
The function of synapses is not only to transfer electric impulses from one neuron
to another but also to regulate the strength of connection – a phenomenon known as
synaptic plasticity. Regulation effects include the long-term potentiation (strengthening
of synapses after recent episodes of their activity), long-term depression (weakening of
synapses after intensive activity) as well as the Hebbian rule of signal association. Long-
term potentiation usually happens if the signal is relatively weak, but it is beneficial for
the organism. In contrast, long-term depression is employed to reduce the effect of signals
that are too strong, or unneeded. The Hebbian rule is, in short, described as ‘neurons wire
together if they fire together’ (Lowel and Singer 1992); it is assumed that this explains
the phenomenon of associative learning. Hebb wrote, ‘The general idea is an old one,
that any two cells or systems of cells that are repeatedly active at the same time will tend
to become “associated” so that activity in one facilitates activity in the other’ (1949: 70).
Following this rule, synapse connections between two neurons should become stronger
(and/or more numerous) if these neurons tend to fire simultaneously.
The function of the nervous system is currently pictured as the exchange of signals
between neurons. The passage of signals through a synapse from one neuron to another is
the lowest-level process of neural translation. Available models of synaptic plasticity can
explain the function of individual reflexes; however, they are not sufficient for explaining
higher-level neural processes. Even the functions of a single neuron are not clear. Each
neuron has c. 7,000 synapses, on average; thus, it can receive many input signals coming
from multiple neurons either simultaneously or sequentially in short time intervals. The
results of such complex stimulation are not clear. Computer models of neural networks
are still not sufficiently realistic and, thus, cannot reliably predict higher-level processes
in the brain. In particular, neural grounding of mental meanings remains elusive, because
we cannot translate neural signals into the content of human thinking.
the sex pheromone emitted by females by flying against the wind flow. This reflex is
innate, but it can be adjusted by additional factors, such as light, wind and concentration
of pheromone. A more complex reflex is the conditioning discovered by Ivan Pavlov,
which is established by associative learning within the individual lifespan.
Complex behaviours may include learning by both participants of communication:
signal producer and signal receiver. It has been shown that birds memorize the song
pattern of their parents and then learn to imitate this pattern in their own vocalization
(Konishi 2010). Other examples involve inter-species communication: a bird luring the
predator away from the nest by pretending that it cannot fly, or the hare-fox interaction,
in which a hare signals that it has spotted the fox by making itself clearly visible (standing
straight with ears erect). The beneficial effect of hare behaviour is explained by the fact
that hares can run faster than foxes and, thus, a fox would not chase the hare if it has been
spotted. This gives the hare a chance to save energy by making a sign (Holley 1993). In
these two examples, there is a two-level translation: first, the responding animal translates
the behaviour of its partner and, second, the signalling animal anticipates this translation
and adjusts its behaviour to evoke the corresponding behaviour of the first animal.
In semiotic terms, organisms translate various kinds of natural patterns and correlations
into their own affordances and habits. Hoffmeyer expressed this idea as follows: ‘Each
new habit, whether based on learning or genetic specification, exposes the organisms to
new challenges either directly or indirectly through the unending chain of translations’
(2003: 338). Communication between species is, then, a ‘translation between Umwelten’,
as formulated by Kull and Torop (2003). Such translation may link habits and cognitive
models of one kind of organism with certain habits and models of another kind of
organism. It can be mutually beneficial (e.g. in the interaction of a cat and its human
owner) or antagonistic (e.g. between prey and predator).
signs into meaningful phenomena. Organisms communicate via chemical and acoustic
signs. Humans developed complex symbolic languages for communication and created
technology that supports communication and computation.
Biosemiotics proposes three important changes to partitioning of human knowledge.
First, the humanities have to be expanded beyond humans.5 The scientific community
is ready to accept that animals have cognition and emotions that are, in many respects,
similar to those in humans. Animals easily recognize types of objects and associate them
with functions. Second, following the logic of the new mechanistic philosophy (Bechtel
and Abrahamsen 2005), the term ‘mechanism’ can be used in biosemiotics to describe
simple interpretation processes (e.g. translation) at the level of macromolecules and
molecule complexes in living cells. Many molecular processes in living cells are meaningful
and should be analysed not only by physics and chemistry but also by semiotics. And,
third, biosemiotics proposes to expand science (and, first of all, the biology of mind and
cognition) beyond mechanisms (Henning and Scarfe 2009).
Jakob von Uexküll was one of the founders of biosemiotic ideas (although he did not
use the term). He claimed that organisms within a species develop their own model of
their environment, called an Umwelt (Von Uexküll 1982 [1940]). Animals view outside
objects as meaningful components of their behaviour patterns: food sources, building
materials, shelters, or navigation landmarks. Such models of the environment may even
be individual-specific, because each animal has its unique experience and habits, such
as navigation and activity within the territory adjacent to its nest (Von Uexküll 1957).
Organisms develop their models of the environment together with the development
of the body, and body parts (e.g. sense organs and effectors) integrated by the internal
communication system (e.g. nerves and brain), which serve as a scaffold for Umwelt-
building to support its heritable components. In addition, Umwelt formation is shaped by
the environment via sensorial inputs, showing, among other factors, the degree of success
in various behaviours, including interaction with other agents.
Biosemiotics substantially enriches the concept of goal directedness. In contrast
to neo-Darwinism, it views survival and reproduction as surrogate goals. According
to biosemiotics, the goal of agents is to preserve their identity by following habits in
development and behaviour, whereas survival and reproduction are simply by-products
of these habits. In his later writings, Varela, who developed the theory of enactivism,
emphasizes the importance of identity; he writes, ’Organisms are fundamentally a
process of constitution of an identity’ (Varela 1997: 73). Varela did not recognize that
the identity of organisms is semiotic, although he correctly mentions that identity is based
not on substance but on movement or process (Varela 1991: 80). Consequently, natural
selection is also a surrogate notion, because nature is not an agent and cannot kill or
produce organisms (Sharov 2016c).6 The real meaning of selection is that organisms select
their actions by making informed choices. Agents whose choices preserve, develop and
multiply their identity become more abundant and diverse, whereas agents whose choices
result in the decline or disintegration of identity vanish. In particular, death is a loss of
identity, and heritable self-reproduction ensures preservation and spread of identity.
In this chapter, I explored one aspect of biosemiotics, which is ‘translation’ in
living organisms – interpretation of natural biological signs by means of other signs.
My main idea is that the process of translation should be considered in the context of
agency, where agents perform translation and the result of translation irreversibly and
adaptively transforms properties of agents in the future. This logic is equally applicable
to biological evolution, embryo development, immune competence, cognitive learning,
and development of sociality and human culture. Translation of natural biological signs
BIOLOGY OF TRANSLATION: THE ROLE OF AGENTS 77
and human verbal signs has common properties that drive semiotic development and
evolution at various time scales and diverse levels of organization of the living world,
which justifies the proposal of Kobus Marais (2019) to develop a general semiotic theory
of translation that can potentially narrow the nature/culture gap and facilitate integration
of natural sciences with humanities.
CONCLUSION
In biology, translation denotes lower-level or mostly automated sign processes that
tend to preserve the incipient meanings. Translation is a biological function of living
organisms and, as such, should be considered in evolutionary context, as it is assumed in
biosemiotics. At the molecular level, translation is represented by two sequential steps
of processing the hereditary information: transcription – copying of DNA sequence
to RNA – and translation – synthesis of proteins programmed by the RNA sequence.
However, protein synthesis is not the end of the biological translation chain. Extended
steps of translation include protein folding, transport and functional activities of
proteins. Proteins become agents that perform translation/interpretation functions on
their own. In contrast to Peirce’s semiotics, molecular protosemiosis does not include
perception of objects, and interpretants can be either signs or agents in the ensuing
interpretation steps. The difference between agents and signs is that agents act, and signs
signify. These roles are often combined; however, in this case, the role of interpreting
agency is active and, therefore, more important than signification. Biological translation
is a goal-directed process targeted at maintaining the identity of living cells and whole
organisms.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I want to thank Kobus Marais (University of the Free State, Bloemfontein, South Africa),
Kalevi Kull (University of Tartu) and anonymous reviewers for valuable comments.
I declare no conflict of interest.
NOTES
1 ATP is adenosine 5’-triphosphate, and ADP is adenosine diphosphate.
2 Sign relation represents a type of sign process that is habitually performed by a semiotic
agent (or type of agents).
3 In citations, EP or CP is followed by the volume, and paragraph number of Peirce (1998) or
Peirce (1932), respectively.
4 This does not mean that proteins historically appeared before nucleic acids. Instead, both
proteins and nucleic acids emerged in the evolution of more primitive molecular agents,
possibly resembling extant coenzymes (Sharov 2016b).
5 This notion is being developed within the post-humanities programme (Marchesini 2017).
6 Nature usually implies the environment, and environment can include other organisms,
which are agents. These agents can be harmful or beneficial to the organism under
consideration. However, being killed by a predator does not mean being killed by nature.
78 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
REFERENCES
Anderson, M., J. Deely, M. Krampen, J. Ransdell, T. A. Sebeok and T. V. Uexküll (1984),
‘A Semiotic Perspective on the Sciences: Steps toward a New Paradigm’, Semiotica, 52
(1/2): 7–47.
Bechtel, W. and A. Abrahamsen (2005), ‘Explanation: A Mechanistic Alternative’, Studies in
History and Philosophy of the Biological and Biomedical Sciences, 36: 421–41.
Crick, F. H. (1958), ‘On Protein Synthesis’, in F. K. Sanders (ed.), Symposia of the Society for
Experimental Biology, Number XII: The Biological Replication of Macromolecules, 138–63,
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Danesi, M. (2001), ‘Foreword: Thomas A. Sebeok and Semiotics’, in T. A. Sebeok (ed.), Signs:
An Introduction to Semiotics, 2nd edn, xi–xvi, Toronto: University of Toronto Press.
Dawkins, R. (1976), The Selfish Gene, New York: Oxford University Press.
Eigen, M. and P. Schuster (1979), The Hypercycle, a Principle of Natural Self-organization,
Berlin: Springer-Verlag.
Favareau, D. (ed.) (2010), Essential Readings in Biosemiotics. Anthology and Commentary,
Dordrecht: Springer.
Gánti, T. (2003 [1971]), The Principles of Life, Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Gilbert, S. F. (2016), ‘Ecological Developmental Biology: Interpreting Developmental Signs’,
Biosemiotics, 9 (1): 51–60.
Hebb, D. O. (1949), The Organization of Behavior, New York: Wiley and Sons.
Henning, B. G. and A. C. Scarfe (eds) (2009), Beyond Mechanism: Putting Life Back into
Biology, Boulder: Lexington Books.
Hildebrandt, A., M. Bruggemann, C. Ruckle, S. Boerner, J. B. Heidelberger, A. Busch et al.
(2019), ‘The RNA-Binding Ubiquitin Ligase MKRN1 Functions in Ribosome-associated
Quality Control of Poly(A) Translation’, Genome Biology, 20 (1): 216.
Hoffmeyer, J. (1996), Signs of Meaning in the Universe. The Natural History of Signification,
Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Hoffmeyer, J. (2003), ‘Origin of Species by Natural Translation’, in S. Petrilli (ed.), Translation,
Translation, 329–46, Amsterdam: Rodopi.
Hoffmeyer, J. (2008), Biosemiotics: An Examination into the Signs of Life and the Life of Signs,
Scranton, PA: University of Scranton Press.
Holley, A. J. (1993), ‘Do Brown Hares Signal to Foxes?’, Ecology, 94: 21–30.
Jacob, F. (1973), The Logic of Life: A History of Heredity, trans. B. E. Spillmann, Princeton:
Princeton University Press.
Jakobson, R. (1959), On Linguistic Aspects of Translation, in R. A. Brower (ed.), On
Translation, 232–9, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Konishi, M. (2010), ‘From Central Pattern Generator to Sensory Template in the Evolution of
Birdsong’, Brain and Language, 115 (1): 18–20.
Kull, K. and P. Torop (2003), ‘Biotranslation: Translation between Umwelten’, in S. Petrilli
(ed.), Translation, Translation, 315–28, Amsterdam: Rodopi.
Lodish, H., A. S. L. Berk, S. L. Zipursky, P. Matsudaira and J. Darnell (2000), Molecular Cell
Biology, 4th edn, New York: W. H. Freeman and Co.
Lowel, S. and Singer, W. (1992), ‘Selection of Intrinsic Horizontal Connections in the Visual
Cortex by Correlated Neuronal Activity’, Science, 255 (5041): 209–12.
Marais, K. (2019), A (Bio)Semiotic Theory of Translation: The Emergence of Social-Cultural
Reality, New York: Routledge.
BIOLOGY OF TRANSLATION: THE ROLE OF AGENTS 79
Marchesini, R. (2017), Over the Human. Post-humanism and the Concept of Animal Epiphany,
Dordrecht: Springer.
Maturana, H. and F. Varela (1980), Autopoiesis and Cognition: The Realization of the Living
(Vol. 42, Boston Studies in the Philosophy of Science), Dordecht: D. Reidel.
Morris, C. W. (1971), Writings on the General Theory of Signs, The Hague: Mouton.
Peirce, C. S. (1932), Collected Papers of Charles Sanders Peirce, Volumes I and II: Principles
of Philosophy and Elements of Logic, C. Hartshorne and P. Weiss (eds), Cambridge, MA:
Harvard University Press.
Peirce, C. S. (1998 [1893–1913]), The Essential Peirce: Selected Philosophical Writings, Vol. 2,
Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Petrilli, S. (ed.) (2003), Translation, Translation, Amsterdam: Rodopi.
Porter, S. L., G. H. Wadhams and J. P. Armitage (2011), ‘Signal Processing in Complex
Chemotaxis Pathways’, National Reviews Microbiology, 9 (3): 153–65.
Prodi, G. (1988), ‘Signs and Codes in Immunology’, in E. E. Sercarz, F. Celada,
N. A. Mitchenson and T. Tada (eds), The Semiotics of Cellular Communication in the
Immune System, 53–64, Berlin: Springer.
Rosen, R. (1972), ‘Some Relational Cell Models: The Metabolism-Repair Systems’, in R. Rosen
(ed.), Foundations of Mathematical Biology, Vol. 2, 217–53, New York: Academic Press.
Sebeok, T. A. and J. E. Umiker-Sebeok (eds) (1992), Biosemiotics, New York: Mouton de
Gruyter.
Sharov, A. A. (2016a), ‘Evolutionary Biosemiotics and Multilevel Construction Networks’,
Biosemiotics, 9 (3): 399–416.
Sharov, A. A. (2016b), ‘Coenzyme World Model of the Origin of Life’, Biosystems, 144: 8–17.
Sharov, A. A. (2016c), ‘Evolution of Natural Agents: Preservation, Advance, and Emergence of
Functional Information’, Biosemiotics, 9 (1): 103–20.
Sharov, A. A. (2018), ‘Mind, Agency, and Biosemiotics’, Journal of Cognitive Science, 19 (2):
195–228.
Sharov, A. A. and T. Vehkavaara (2015), ‘Protosemiosis: Agency with Reduced Representation
Capacity’, Biosemiotics, 8 (1): 103–23.
Sharov, A. and M. Tønnessen (2021), Semiotic Agency. Science beyond Mechanism, Dordrecht:
Springer.
Varela, F. J. (1991), ‘Organism: A Meshwork of Selfless Selves’, in A. I. Tauber (ed.), Organism
and the Origins of Self, 79–107, Dordrecht: Kluwer.
Varela, F. J. (1997), ‘Patterns of Life: Intertwining Identity and Cognition’, Brain and
Cognition, 34: 72–87.
Von Glasersfeld, E. (1984), ‘An Introduction to Radical Constructivism’, in P. Watzlawick
(ed.), The Invented Reality, 17–40, New York: Norton.
Von Uexküll, J. (1957), ‘A Stroll through the Worlds of Animals and Men: A Picture Book
of Invisible Worlds’, in C. H. Schiller (ed.), Instinctive Behaviour: The Development of a
Modern Concept, 5–80, New York: International Universities Press.
Von Uexküll, J. (1982 [1940]), ‘The Theory of Meaning’, Semiotica, 42 (1): 25–82.
Von Uexküll, T., W. Geigges and J. M. Herrmann (1993), ‘Endosemiosis’, Semiotica, 96 (1–2):
771–817.
Waddington, C. H. (1957), The Strategy of the Genes; a Discussion of Some Aspects of
Theoretical Biology, London: Allen and Unwin.
Waddington, C. H. (1968), ‘Towards a Theoretical Biology’, Nature, 218 (5141): 525–7.
Watson, J. and F. Crick (1953), ‘A Structure for Deoxyribose Nucleic Acid’, Nature, 171
(4356): 737–8.
80
CHAPTER FIVE
Translation in Medical
Science and Biomedical
Research
STEVE REID AND DELVA SHAMLEY
INTRODUCTION
Imagine two travellers from an exotic foreign land arriving on your doorstep. They
know a few words of greeting in your language, but nothing more, and need to be fed
and accommodated, which you agree to do. As they unpack their suitcases, they display
a series of amazing contraptions that look intriguing, but potentially dangerous. For
lack of a common language, they cannot explain what these devices are, but they are
clearly precious and extremely delicately made. A conversation is needed, ideally with
an interpreter to assist, but none is available. One traveller eagerly tries to help you
understand that the devices are intended as gifts, and uses gesticulations and scattered
words. The attitude of the other traveller, however, despite the language barrier, is
condescending, and he is unwilling to even try and explain any of his objects. He gives
the distinct impression that he regards his land of origin as superior to your own.
Biomedical scientists are like these travellers, with their unintelligible languages and
strange habits; they bring extraordinary gifts that are potentially helpful to us all, but
which need to be interpreted and explained so that we can understand and use them.
Translation is needed, initially to explain how the contraptions work, and to turn the
curious devices to advantage by adapting them for local use, in ways that are acceptable
and familiar. But more than translation is needed: In the process of the transfer of
understanding, one needs to try the devices out, feel how they move and work out how
they could be useful in one’s own context. Furthermore, an attitudinal change is needed,
to overcome the suspicion and the assumed hierarchy of knowledge in interdisciplinary
spaces: A certain degree of generosity and reciprocal humility is required when entering
‘foreign territory’. A mutually productive exchange happens as a product of adequate
translation in its widest sense (designated by inverted commas from here on), with
adjustments and compromises that may take place over a period of time.
Processes of ‘translation’ in biomedicine apply to the attempt to shift knowledge from
the laboratory to patient care, from global ‘north’ to ‘south’, from university to community,
from teaching hospital to peripheral hospitals and from urban to rural situations.
However, the protocols devised in well-resourced academic hospitals, derived from the
so-called best available evidence in the scientific literature, which is overwhelmingly
82 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
North American and European in origin, are often inappropriate and difficult to translate
into medical practice in Africa, as they make so many assumptions regarding resources,
relationships and systems. Primary care, or first-level health care, in particular, is at the
mercy of policies, guidelines and protocols developed out of context in more sophisticated
and controlled settings. There are very few ‘interpreters’ who understand both worlds in
sufficient detail to allow the respective richness of knowledge and insight to be shared.
FIGURE 5.1 Schematic transitions from the ‘Bench to Bedside’ (T1) and ‘Bedside to Practice’
(T2) translational medical research and development model. (Reproduced from Schwartz and
Macomer, 2017.)
FIGURE 5.2 Operational challenges for translational research and medicine. (From Fernandez-
Moure, (2016), adapted from Blumberg et al. Harvard Catalyst Website: (https://catalyst.
harvard.edu/).
84 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
●● T1: Translating lab results into new diagnostics, therapy and prevention and
their first testing in humans
●● T2: Translating clinical studies into everyday clinical practice and health
decision-making
●● T3: Ensuring that evidence-based interventions effectively reach those whose
health can benefit
●● T4: Proactively communicating scientific accomplishments to stakeholders: the
public, industry and government
These models demonstrate a progressively more complicated, but still linear process,
in which the sequential steps represent distinct activities or obstacles that need to be
addressed.
CHALLENGES TO TRANSLATION
Barriers to translation include historical, social, economic, scientific, cultural and
organizational issues. This complexity has led to few clinical trial findings reaching
disease populations. The most common reason for this failure is the resource-intensive
design of the research projects, which is not replicable or affordable in the real-world
setting of health-care practice. A more recent and critical finding is that of the impact of
genetic variation on drug metabolism, called pharmacogenomics (Rollinson et al. 2020).
A drug developed in a specific population group is likely to be metabolized differently in
a different population group, which frequently leads to significant failure of the therapy,
or adverse drug reactions. As biomedical knowledge grows, so too does the complexity of
the challenge of translation into practice.
Theoretical considerations
With regard to theoretical assumptions, complexity systems theory would appear
to be the most convenient framework to explain the shift away from linear thinking
(Walby 2007). The fundamental idea of complexity is that multiple parts of a system
interact with one another, continuously and in multiple ways, resulting in the emergence
of phenomena that are ‘more than the sum of its parts’, as originally described in
computer science (Holland 1992). The translation of scientific discoveries into workable
benefits in people’s lives requires a process of constant adaptation and adjustment along
the chain of actors and systems, leading to an equilibrium, which may itself be temporary.
86 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
This perspective finds obvious parallels in language translation with respect to the
continuous process of adaptation that is required in moving between languages.
At a broader level, the shift from positivist and structuralist views of the world in
the social sciences to relativist and post-structural perspectives over the last half century
has challenged natural scientists to examine their positions in society, and to make their
contributions ethically and fairly in relation to society as a whole. By bringing these
apparently competing paradigms together, the idea of critical realism is possibly the most
appropriate theoretical framework to integrate these diverse perspectives.
Roy Bhaskar, a philosopher who developed the theory of critical realism (Bhaskar
1975, 1998), describes our existence in terms of a ‘layered’ or ‘stratified’ reality, on
three levels: what is empirical, what is actual and what is real. Assuming that there is an
objective reality external to humankind, he insists that we should not conflate this reality
(ontology) with our experiences of it (epistemology), which is what he calls the ‘epistemic
fallacy’. Furthermore, critical realism distinguishes between ‘actual’ events that take place
in the world, on the one hand, and both the natural mechanisms and social structures
that he describes as ‘real’ and immutable, on the other. Far from being a philosophical
indulgence in semantics, this distinction is crucial: The so-called structural forces that
influence our lives are just as real as the ‘actual’ events that they bring about, and that
can be observed. Significantly, critical realists understand structures such as social class,
gender and race as no less real than the laws of physics for being invisible or intangible.
The importance of Bhaskar’s theory is that it avoids the trap of dualistic thinking between
the sciences and the humanities, by providing a framework that enables both subjective
and objective phenomena to be understood simultaneously, not exclusively.
Interdisciplinary research
A widespread limitation of biomedical knowledge is that it is highly specialized and
isolated within disciplines that have no ready mechanisms for sharing knowledge.
Each discipline has its own traditions, heroes, languages and norms, which are actively
TRANSLATION IN MEDICAL SCIENCE 87
promoted and defended against imagined threats of dilution by other disciplines. Even
within the field of biomedical research itself, processes of translation are necessary to
enable wider audiences to understand very specialized areas of knowledge, through which
productive collaborations can occur.
This is clearly not a purely linguistic challenge. Finding common ground across
disciplinary boundaries requires acts of generosity (Herzog 2020), and taking time to
explain one’s field in simple terms to others from a field quite different from one’s own.
At the same time, a degree of ‘epistemic humility’ is required to accept when one does not
know enough about another field to engage in a discourse (Klein 1991). Arvidson (2005)
asserts that interdisciplinary study requires ‘values, traits and skills that are virtuous rather
than vicious’, as well as ‘the human capacity for reverence in the face of complexity’. It
is through this affective domain that a deeper and more generative process of translation
can take place. Without this mutual respect, reciprocity and adaptation, a productive
engagement cannot occur, and innovative ideas or possibilities will be stillborn.
FIGURE 5.3 The three-phase ‘contribution mapping’ model from Kok and Schuit (2012).
(Reproduced under Creative Commons Attribution Licence 4.0.)
90 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
Assessing impact
Current frameworks for assessing the impact of research can be grouped on the basis
of their conceptual and philosophical basis (payback, research impact, monetization,
social impact and related approaches and participatory impact model) with new models
emerging, including realist evaluations, contribution mapping and the SPIRIT Action
framework (Redman et al. 2015) (see Figure 5.4).
These frameworks emphasize engagement and capacity-building activities in
organizations, and acknowledge the messiness of and multiple influences on the policy
FIGURE 5.4 The SPIRIT action framework. (Reproduced from Redman et al., 2015, under
Creative Commons Attribution Licence CC BY-NC-ND 4.0.)
TRANSLATION IN MEDICAL SCIENCE 91
process. It is not surprising that research on research impact is a growing field of work
under implementation science, and that selecting a framework for measuring impact will
depend on the reason for seeking to measure impact and the circumstances in question.
Furthermore, the cultural and socio-demographic features of a site should inform a
decision on the type of framework to be selected, to ensure relevance.
‘COMING HOME’
Feedback and implementation cycles
Language translation is usually conceptualized as a one-way process, from one language
into another, using words to transfer meanings from one context into the other. However,
it is clear from biomedical research not only that complexity makes this challenging but
that a further process is necessary to maximize the potential of any intervention, by
bringing the insights gained from community interactions back to the laboratory. The
analogy of returning from a journey into a foreign land is maintained in this model, akin
to a homecoming process or ritual that relates to the reasons and motivations with which
one set out in the first place.
This is a story about translation, and a homecoming (including ‘the chickens that came
home to roost’), to illustrate the roles of different frames of understanding a common
problem.
At each stage on the continuum of translation, an interpretation or judgement
is required, which is largely determined by the worldview of the participants at that
moment. The stages and phases of translational research outlined above, and which are
highly structured, arise from and are framed by the scientific method of reductionism,
A vignette
A 45-year-old Zulu man presented to a rural hospital near his traditional home in
KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa, severely ill with an acute abdomen. The doctor in the
emergency room made the diagnosis of a perforated peptic ulcer – a life-threatening
condition – and he was operated on immediately to close the hole in his stomach
wall. During his post-op recovery, the doctor tried to understand the source of the
patient’s stress, which had produced such an excess of stomach acid that it had
resulted in a perforation. The patient was adamant that his wife was poisoning him
through the food she cooked and fed him. On further enquiry, it emerged that the
patient had recently returned to his traditional home from his city lodgings, where
his mistress had recently given birth to his child. When his wife found out about this
situation after his return, relations between them had become tense.
Whether it was ‘poison’ from his wife, or excessive acid produced in his stomach from
the psychological tension in the marriage, or the tension that arose from a difference
in interpretation of the cause of his illness, is a matter of translation – whatever it
was called and however it was understood, the problem still needed to be resolved,
not only through surgery and anti-acid drugs but also through family therapy. In the
event, after the surgeon had played his part, a traditional healer was more successful
with the latter. Both interpretations were needed for a successful resolution.
92 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
which excludes confounding factors in the environment that could disrupt the linear
pattern of an experiment. In this sense, the scientific process is highly contrived, but
regarded by scientists as the ‘foundation’ or ‘home base’ of scientific truth. In real life,
multiple confounding factors impact on an individual or a situation simultaneously, and
results emerge at different times. A systems approach that accepts the truth of complexity
as something to be expected, rather than a nuisance to be diminished, is needed. Complex
adaptive systems, in which every part of a system affects every other part, is often seen as
a foreign land, whereas it is, in fact, the milieu in which we all live.
Recently, attention has been given to clinicians’ and communities’ feedback on
innovations, as the holders of different but equally important types of expertise (Stewart
et al. 2020). Several authors emphasize a two-way process of biomedical research vis-à-
vis practice. Practitioners need to give feedback to the generators of an innovation, so
that it can be improved, and in many cases, it is the practitioners themselves who identify
the need in the first place. Ridley (2015) argues that basic scientific advances can be the
consequence, rather than the cause, of applied technological advances.
In the arena of science communication, Kappel and Holmen (2019) contrast the
dissemination paradigm with the public participation paradigm, the latter viewing
dialogue and deliberation between the public, experts and decision-makers as the proper
way of engaging in science communication. ‘Science shops’, often attached to university
departments, were first established in the Netherlands in the 1970s, and provide
independent participatory research support in response to concerns experienced by civil
society, as a bottom-up approach to research (Wachelder 2003). The work of the ‘science
shops’ can be described as community-based research, with the aim of increasing both
public awareness and providing access to science and technology to laypeople or non-
profit organizations.
translation, and exactly what needs to be translated versus what can remain hidden, such
as digital software code, is likely to be a feature of modern life. In the light of a more
interdisciplinary framework, we suggest that the transition from the highly segregated
and sequential structure of biomedical translation towards a more multidimensional
approach could be useful in many other fields of knowledge beyond language translation,
particularly those involving tightly discipline-bound areas of specialization.
Our unusual travellers, having established friendships and distributed their gifts in
foreign lands, return home themselves richer and wiser, understanding that we are all
connected and interdependent. We play with their contraptions, and after making a
few adaptations, find them surprisingly useful. Using yet-to-be-discovered technology
for transferring thoughts, we send our new friends our thanks, and tell them about the
improvements we have made.
REFERENCES
Abdool Karim, S. S. and Q. Abdool Karim (eds) (2010), AIDS in South Africa, 2nd edn,
Cape Town: Cambridge University Press. https://doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139062404
Arvidson P. S. (2015), ‘The Virtue of Reverence in Interdisciplinary Studies’, Issues in
Interdisciplinary Studies, 33: 117–43.
Barnes, M. and N. Wallace (2017), ‘Laws and Ethics Affecting Clinical Trials in Africa’, Journal
of Health Care Law & Policy, 19: 246–69. http://digitalcommons.law.umaryland.edu/jhclp/
vol19/iss2/3
Bhaskar, R. (1975), A Realist Theory of Science, Brighton: Harvester.
Bhaskar, R. (1998), ‘Societies’, in M. Archer, R. Bhaskar, A. Collier, T. Lawson and A. Norrie
(eds), Critical Realism: Essential Readings, 206–57, London: Routledge.
Blümel, C., S. Gauch, B. Hendriks, A. K. Krüger and M. Reinhart (2015), In Search of
Translational Research: Report on the Development and Current Understanding of a New
Terminology in Medical Research and Practice, Berlin Institute of Health. https://www.
bihealth.org/en/news/media-center/bih-publications
Clark, A. M., P. D. MacIntyre and J. Cruickshank (2007), ‘A Critical Realist Approach to
Understanding and Evaluating Heart Health Programmes’, Health, 11 (4): 513–39. https://
doi.org/10.1177/1363459307080876
Damschroder, L. J., D. C. Aron, R. E. Keith, S. R. Kirsh, J. A. Alexander and J. C. Lowery
(2009), ‘Fostering Implementation of Health Services Research Findings into Practice:
A Consolidated Framework for Advancing Implementation Science’, Implementation
Science, 4 (50). https://doi.org/10.1186/1748-5908-4-50
Dzau, V. J., C. D. Ackerly, P. Sutton-Wallace, M. H. Merson, R. Sanders Williams,
K. R. Krishnan and R. M. Califf (2010), ‘The Role of Academic Health Science Systems in
the Transformation of Medicine’, The Lancet, 375 (9718). https://doi.org/949–953:10.1016/
S0140-6736_09_61082-5.
Fairall, L., E. Bateman, R. Cornick, et al. (2015), ‘Innovating to Improve Primary Care in Less
Developed Countries: Towards a Global Model’, BMJ Innov, 1: 196–203.
Fernandez-Moure, J. S. (2016), ‘Lost in Translation: The Gap in Scientific Advancements and
Clinical Application’, Front. Bioeng. Biotechnol, 4: 43. doi: 10.3389/fbioe.2016.00043
Flier, J. S. and J. Loscalzo (2017), ‘Categorizing Biomedical Research: The Basics of
Translation’, FASEB Journal: Official Publication of the Federation of American Societies for
Experimental Biology, 31 (8): 3210–5. https://doi.org/10.1096/fj.201700303R
Foucault, M. (1975), The Birth of the Clinic: An Archaeology of Medical Perception, New York:
Vintage Books.
94 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
Care, NEJM Catalyst eBook, Articles, Abstracts, and Reports, 3289. https://digitalcommons.
psjhealth.org/publications/3289 (accessed 11 December 2020).
Sung, N. S., W. F. Crowley, M. Genel, P. Salber, L. Sandy, L. M. Sherwood, S. B. Johnson,
V. Cantonese, H. Hilson, K. Getz, E. L. Larson, D. Schenberg, E. A. Reece, H. Slakin,
A. Dobs, J. Grebb, R. A. Matinez, A. Korn and D. Rimoin (2003), ‘Central Challenges
Facing the National Clinical Research Enterprise’, JAMA, 289 (10): 1278–87. https://doi.
org/10.1001/jama.289.10.1278
Thornicroft, G., H. Lempp and M. Tansella (2011), ‘The Place of Implementation Science in
the Translational Medicine Continuum’, Psychological Medicine, 41: 2015–21.
Wachelder, J. (2003), ‘Democratizing Science: Various Routes and Visions of Dutch Science
Shops’, Science, Technology, & Human Values, 28 (2): 244–73.
Walby, S. (2007), ‘Complexity Theory, Systems Theory, and Multiple Intersecting
Social Inequalities’, Philosophy of the Social Sciences, 37: 449–70. DOI:
10.1177/0048393107307663
Wensing, M. (2015), ‘Implementation Science in Healthcare: Introduction and Perspective’,
Zeitschrift für Evidenz, Fortbildung und Qualität im Gesundheitswesen, 109 (2): 97–102.
https://doi.org/10.1016/j.zefq.2015.02.014
World Health Organization (2020), Handbook for Good Clinical Research Practice (GCP):
Guidance for Implementation, Geneva: WHO. https://www.who.int/medicines/areas/
quality_safety/safety_efficacy/gcp1.pdf
96
PART II
Translation in the
Social Sciences
98
CHAPTER SIX
Interlingual, Intralingual
and Intersemiotic
Translation in Law
AGNIESZKA DOCZEKALSKA AND ŁUCJA BIEL
INTRODUCTION
The objective of this chapter is to discuss the alternativeness of translation from the
perspective of legal studies, a disciplinary field that studies law – a binding system of
legal rules regulating social behaviours (cf. Harris 2016: 4–9). Our point of departure
is Jakobson’s broad understanding of translation as intralingual, interlingual and
intersemiotic translation, where
1. Intralingual translation or rewording is an interpretation of verbal signs by means of
other signs of the same language.
2. Interlingual translation or translation proper is an interpretation of verbal signs by
means of some other language.
3. Intersemiotic translation or transmutation is an interpretation of verbal signs by
means of signs of nonverbal sign systems (2000[1959]: 114).
First, law abounds with examples of interlingual translation – in international law,
in legal systems that use more than one language, and during contacts between legal
systems. Second, law relies on intralingual translation when one type of legal verbal sign
is translated into another legal sign at various stages of law-making and application.
Third, intersemiotic translation takes place when legal verbal signs are communicated
through visual or spatial signs. This chapter discusses these three types of translation,
and explores how they are conceptualized and used in the area of law, although the first
two – interlingual and intralingual translation – are discussed in more detail. First, we
overview historical developments and key ideas related to the use of mainly interlingual
translation for legal purposes, such as translation as a language right, legal transplants
and multilingual drafting. Next, we focus on intralingual translation connected with law-
making and application, that is, when policies are translated into law and when legal rules
are decoded from legal provisions, in addition to harmonization and transposition, which
100 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
written in a succinct and accessible way (Tiersma 2012: 7). It was introduced in countries
conquered by Napoleon – Belgium, Luxembourg, the Netherlands, Portugal, Spain, some
areas of Italy and Germany – and later into the colonies of these countries in Africa and
Latin America (legal colonization), as well as in other countries on a voluntary basis
(Tiersma 2012: 7). These national codes were largely translations of the French code:
for example, in the Netherlands, Italy, Haiti and Bolivia with lesser or greater degrees of
localization (cf. Graziadei 2006: 448–9). Other civil codes, most notably those of German
and Swiss origins, were also influential in Japan and the Republic of Turkey, respectively
(Graziadei 2006: 450–1). Similarly, the spread of common law was effected through
colonialism in the British Empire, for example, in the United States, Australia and India
(Graziadei 2006: 451–2). More recently, after the Second World War, the legal system
in the United States has exerted the greatest influence and has been a frequent source of
borrowings across the world, ranging from institutions (concepts) and legal rules (e.g. class
action, plea bargaining, derivative action), to institutional arrangements (judicial review),
whole branches of law (corporate law, constitutional law, securities law, competition
law), to approaches to law and legal education (Langer 2004: 1–2). As observed by Husa,
borrowings from other legal systems ‘increase with internationalization, globalization,
and European integration’ (2018: 137). The European integration behind the EU was
achieved thanks to translation. The EU has developed its own autonomous legal system,
which is independent of the member states’ national legal systems, but strongly embedded
in them at conceptual level (Doczekalska 2018: 174–5). This process – where national law
influences international or supranational law and vice versa – is referred to as vertical legal
transplants, as opposed to horizontal transplants across countries (Perju 2012: 1319–20;
Siems 2014: 232). At the end of the twentieth century, postcommunist Eastern European
countries launched huge reforms to transform into market economies by ‘transplanting’
numerous legal institutions from the United States and other developed countries into
their legal systems, and harmonizing their laws with EU law before these countries were
allowed to accede to the organization. What is visible over time is a shift (1) from legal
imposition (imperialism) to softer forms of influence, such as providing access to the
domestic law and its translations; (2) from transplanting entire codes to ‘piecemeal legal
transplants’ of selected institutions, mainly as tested, cost-saving solutions; and (3) from
adopting a translation of a foreign legal text to a transfer of a policy (Siems 2014: 236,
252–3, 260).
This mobility of law and its ‘diffusion’ are most commonly framed by legal scholars
under the label of legal transplants, that is, a transfer of legal concepts, legal rules or legal
institutions from the source legal system into the target legal system. Legal transplants are
one of the popular and hotly debated topics in comparative law (Siems 2014: 231–61).
The concept of legal transplants was promoted by Alan Watson (1974), who argues that
borrowings are omnipresent in legal history and are the main mechanism of legal change.
At the other extreme, Legrand (1997) argues that transplants are ‘impossible’ due to the
embedding of law in culture.
The term ‘legal transplant’ relies on the medical metaphor of transferring an organ
from one body to another, and on the botanical metaphor of removing a plant from one
place and planting it in another.2 Some legal scholars find these metaphors misleading.
For example, Langer argues that the transplant metaphor suggests that legal institutions
can be ‘cut and paste’ and fails to sufficiently account for transformations and adjustments
of transplants in the target legal system (2004: 5), because transplants do not occur ‘in
a legal cultural vacuum’ and are limited by ‘path dependence’ (Husa 2018: 130). In
TRANSLATION IN LAW 103
Multilingual drafting
Multilingual drafting has been extensively studied in translation studies literature that
deals with legal translation (cf. Šarčević 1997; Kjær 2007) and is, hence, dealt with
briefly. Multilingual drafting is a promulgation of law in more than one language, where
all language versions are regarded as ‘authentic’, that is, equally valid from a legal point of
view. It can be found in bilingual countries and/or regions, such as Canada and Belgium,
and supra-/international institutions, such as the EU.
The EU’s drafting of supranational law in twenty-four languages for application in
twenty-seven domestic legal systems is an extreme case of multilingualism. As often
remarked in the literature, EU legal translation challenges key translation studies concepts,
such as the source text/language, target text/language, equivalence, translation process,
104 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
quality (cf. Biel 2019 for an overview; Šarčević 1997; Koskinen 2001; Felici 2010).
Additionally, even though translation is used, legal practitioners (drafters) as well as
legal scholars and practitioners (cf. e.g. Derlén 2015) intentionally avoid referring to the
term ‘translation’ and have developed an alternative terminology, for example, authentic
version (instead of source/target text), de jure/de facto original and base text (source
text), multilingual drafting (translation), interlingual text reproduction (translation),
multilingual concordance (equivalence) and so on, since the term ‘translation’ may imply
a text of secondary importance. The alternative terminology emphasizes that a legal act
exists in twenty-four equally valid language versions and raises the status of a translated
text to an ‘authentic version’, on an equal footing with the original (see also section
below, on transposition of EU directives into national law). Yet it is acknowledged in the
literature on EU law and translation and confirmed by EU case law that the presumption
of the same meaning in all language versions is unrealistic since divergences between
language versions are unavoidable; hence, it is secondary – as observed by Šarčević (1997:
73) – to ‘the presumption of equal intent’ and supported by a more flexible approach to
interpretation (see Biel 2014: 62–72 for further discussion).
Legislative drafting
A legal act, or rather its draft (‘a bill’ in common law countries), is drawn up in the
language of the law. Its form and structure are required by law or developed through
practice.5 The rigidness of form and language makes it difficult to draft it from
scratch. Some jurisdictions require or recommend deriving a draft from a preparatory
TRANSLATION IN LAW 105
document, such as drafting instructions for the Office of the Parliamentary Council in
the UK.6 These documents are usually prepared by the government and submitted to the
legislative department, which writes the draft to be enacted by the parliament. Drafting
instructions not only propose the content but also contain the policy summary and
objectives, the analysis of the existing law and alternatives to the proposed solutions.
They form a genre chain with legal acts. Since these instructions are written in the legal
language, they must be intralingually translated into the language of the law, as shown
in Table 6.1.
The wording of these two texts is different, although the legal act provides the meaning
required in the drafting instructions, which explain what right should be provided in a
legal act and who should be vested with this right. The legal act addresses the right
directly to the person who is granted it.
The process of legislative drafting is influenced by theoretical assumptions about the
drafters’ role, as well as by practical considerations, such as the existence of drafting
instructions, their degree of detail and form, drafters’ agency and so on. This section
will analyse the process of legislative drafting to determine when it involves intralingual
translation. For this purpose, it is necessary to consider (1) whether policymaking is
distinguished from bill drafting; (2) the nature of drafting instructions and the extent to
which the wording of drafting instructions differs from that of the final legal act; and (3)
drafters’ role and agency.
First of all, the distinction between policymaking and the drafting of a legal act is
not always maintained. Some national legal systems require drafters to start work after
the policy is decided (e.g. the UK, Australia). The policy is usually reflected in drafting
instructions. However, even if the policymaking responsibility is distinguished from the
drafting responsibility, drafting instructions are, in practice, not always prepared (e.g.
Poland, cf. Borski 2018), or they are given only verbally (e.g. Malta, cf. Aquilina 2017).
For instance, drafting instructions are required in Poland only if the legislative proposal
comes from the government.8 If there are no drafting instructions, there is no source text
from which an intralingual translation could be made.
Second, drafting instructions can serve as a source of intralingual translation if they
contain an adequate amount of information, namely (1) they are not too general, and (2)
106 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
they do not have the form of a legal act. Drafting manuals contain some recommendations
on the degree of detail and content of drafting instructions. For example, the British
Columbia legislative guide recommends finding ‘a middle ground between too much and
too little detail’ (OLC 2013: 3). If the policy is not clearly explained, drafters become
policymakers. Drafters are not expected to make policy but to translate it into a legal act.9
On the other hand, if the instructions are too detailed, especially if they are formulated as
a legal act, drafters’ role is reduced to that of proofreaders or editors. Legislative drafting
manuals do not recommend writing instructions in the form of a legal act. For instance,
the Bermudian drafting guidelines suggest: ‘Please use plain language when preparing
drafting instructions (do not attempt to draft).’10 In British Columbia, ‘[i]nstructions
in the form of draft legislation are not encouraged, but they are also not prohibited’
(Office of the Legal Counsel 2013: 2). If drafting instructions are prepared as a draft
legislation, the British Columbia drafting guide requires each provision to be annotated
with explanations of the background, objective and rationale. Moreover, the drafters are
obliged to follow the policy, but not the draft (Office of the Legal Counsel 2013). Hence,
in this case, some elements of intralingual translation can also be present.
Drafters’ role is influenced by the form and degree of detail of drafting instructions,
and can differ across jurisdictions. It is shaped by assumptions about extent of divisions
between the substance (content) and the form of the legal act that is accepted, and
whether effective legislation requires the substance and the form to be separated or
linked. The traditional approach – reflected, for instance, in Henry Thring’s work of
1878, on drafting British Acts of Parliament – recommends a strict division between
the content and the form and reduces the drafter’s task to the formulation of a legal act
(Stefanou 2016: 364). The separation of two processes – that is, policy formulation and
legal act production – should ensure effective law that fulfils policy aims (Caldwell 1998:
82). Drafters’ work is, hence, referred to as the translation of policy into a legal act.
Kennedy explains that, after a policy has been agreed upon, ‘[i]t then becomes a distinct
function to translate the legislative policy into the terms of a statute’ (1946: 103). There
are numerous examples of legal scholars using the word ‘translate’ to refer to this aspect
of legislative drafting in the meaning of ‘rewording’: ‘the draft bill translates the policy
into law’ (Ntaba 2016: 149); ‘the translation of policy into precise norms may introduce
new features into the text’ (Ntaba 2016: 147–8); ‘This chapter centres attention on the
design and drafting of detailed rules to translate policymakers’ large ideas into effective
legislation that works’ (Seidman and Seidman 2016: 330).
In turn, scholars who claim that ‘the form and content of legislation must be linked’
to achieve effective legislation, or if it is actually connected, or at least the separation
between substance and form is blurred (Nzerem 2016: 159), do not consider drafters as
‘a mere policy translator’ (Ntaba 2016: 145). For them, drafters’ role goes beyond the
translation of policy into a legal act. According to Nzerem, ‘the drafter plays an important
role with respect to both the form and content of a law’, and, therefore, ‘to translate
government policies into effective law’ is the first duty of a legislative drafter, though not
the only one (Nzerem 2016: 157–8). Drafters are certainly not empowered to design the
policy or to enact legislation; however, the substance does influence the form, and vice
versa. According to contextual and systemic methods of interpretation, an interpreter
should, for instance, take into consideration where a provision is placed in the legal act.
The order of provisions and the structure of a legal act are decided by drafters. In doing
so, they follow legislative drafting rules; however, they still have some discretion in this
respect. Drafters are also often responsible for assuring that a legal act is consistent with
TRANSLATION IN LAW 107
the binding legislation. Therefore, they can refuse to introduce certain content, or may
propose amendments to the existing legislation. Even if drafting instructions are precise,
drafters sometimes need to make decisions related to the content, by filling in details,
solving problems or reducing complexity, even at the stage of policy preparation when
they are asked for advice by policymakers. Hence, their discretion seems to be broader
than the one traditionally vested in translators.
stating that ‘amendments made with a view to harmonizing legislation are intended only
to change the form and not the substance of the legislation’.13 Thus, from their very
enactment, both the English and French language versions have the meaning applicable
in the common law and civil law systems. This rewording (replacement of the expression
TRANSLATION IN LAW 109
or adding another expression) under the Harmonization Acts is deemed not to change the
meaning of the language versions. Hence, from the legal standpoint, the same meaning in
the same language is rendered by different verbal signs.
institutions, in various languages and with the involvement of translators and interpreters.
They are then authenticated, that is, adopted in twenty-four authentic language versions
by the European Parliament and the Council and published in the Official Journal of
the European Union. The next stage is the entry of directives into national legal systems
through a transposition effected by national governments. Transposition is based on a
relevant language version of the directive, which is ‘translated’ from a supranational legal
language of EU law into a national legal language – for example, EU German is translated
into Austria’s or Germany’s legal German. This process is referred to by Kjær as a ‘national
translation of EU law’, in contrast to the supranational interlingual translation of EU law,
which takes place in the EU institutions (2007: 77). After the enactment of transposing
measures, member states notify the Commission, which, next, verifies whether they meet
the objectives.
The degree of localization to the national legal language during transposition
depends on the type of harmonization method laid down in a directive and the preferred
transposition method in a given country. Although, as previously noted, directives, in
principle, give member states leeway, they are becoming increasingly more detailed
and, hence, less flexible (cf. Lelieveldt and Princen 2015: 80; Bradley 2017: 100) and
may be subject to various degrees of harmonization. If a directive is subject to minimum
harmonization, member states must ensure that a minimum standard envisaged by a
directive is met, and may exceed it if they wish (Woods et al. 2017: 340). If a directive
is subject to total harmonization, member states must ensure full compliance, but may
not introduce stricter national provisions than those required by a directive (Woods
et al. 2017: 338). Second, and perhaps more importantly from a linguistic point of
view, the degree of localization depends on the transposition technique adopted
by national drafts. The two extremes, which, in a way, mirror the foreignizing and
domesticating strategies, are copy-out and elaboration, respectively. The copy-out
technique copies and pastes the provisions of the directive with as minimum editing
and adaptation as possible, usually to avoid under- or over-implementation (Robinson
2017: 234). This technique is generally preferred by member states (Voermans 2008:
8), and may be favoured in the case of maximum harmonization, even though, as
a result, national provisions copying the generic language of directives may lack
sufficient precision or clarity (Robinson 2017: 235). The intralingual translation
proper takes place when the other technique – elaboration, also known as rewrite
(cf. Greenberg 2012: 245) – is applied. On the one hand, elaboration has pejorative
overtones and ‘carries connotations of going further than is legally required’, that is,
gold plating (Greenberg 2012: 245). On the other hand, it consists in rewriting the
provisions of directives in the spirit of the national drafting style and in line with
the national concept system, to make such provisions more familiar to the national
audience and align it better with the domestic legal order. As shown by our study into
the ‘travelling’ of supranational consumer protection terms into national UK Maltese
and Irish contexts (Biel and Doczekalska 2020): (1) A great number of EU concepts
were imported verbatim into transposing acts; (2) some were modified slightly (e.g.
contractual term – contract term), by addition (health professional – health-care
professional), reduction – (standard of special skill and care – standard of skill and
care); or (3) were partially or fully localized by substitution with terms of national
law (e.g. immovable property – real property; a natural person – an individual;
withdrawal – cancellation); or (4) were not transferred at all at term level. A different
type of transfer happens at concept level, where a linguistic label for a concept – a
TRANSLATION IN LAW 111
term – can be either transferred verbatim from the translated directive, together
with its definition, or its definition may be modified or localized to the national
understanding of a concept (Biel and Doczekalska 2020). However, both foreignizing
and domesticating methods have their advantages and disadvantages. Foreignization
is safer, as it reduces risks of inappropriate implementation, but it can impede the
comprehensibility and correct application of transposing measures (Šarčević 2012:
91). Domestication maintains the integrity of the national legal system but can cause
‘incoherence’ between the supranational and national conceptual systems (Šarčević
2012: 91) and introduce terminological variation.
body (e.g. the parliament). Thus, the exact meaning of a legal provision is decoded
through a different wording of a legal norm. Although a comparison of a legal provision
with a legal norm based on that provision might leave an impression of extra-content
(meaning) in a legal norm, the legal norm is expected to transfer the same meaning as
legal provisions. In contrast to transposition, the degree of freedom is very limited in this
type of intralingual translation.
TABLE 6.4 Examples of legal signs in ASL (adapted from Foret and Petrowske, 1976)
Legal concept Signing instructions
Ownership Yours
(directional)
Testimony ‘swear’ + story
(promise)
Divorce marriage + MIME
(L. and R. ‘A’ hands together, then pulled apart)
Seizure government/police + ‘grab, grab’
(with L. and R. hands alternating)
Accomplice ‘you two’ + agree (DM) + cooperate + law + break
(shaking, directionality)
Miranda warning court + required + warn + you + must + understand + before +
say + anything
Legend: (DM) – double movement; L – left; R – right; parenthesis below line – specific
signing instructions; inverted commas – sign word in ASL
Even though, as can be seen in Table 6.4, legal concepts are partially explicated through
gestures, there are still questions about the extent to which legal signs used by hearing
sign language interpreters have been internalized and are understood by Deaf persons (cf.
Foret and Petrowske 1976: 5). For native Deaf persons, a sign language is often a first
or preferred language, while English (or German, Spanish, Japanese, etc.) is their second
language (The Advocate’s Gateway 2018: 7, 19). Interpreting is required to involve
‘cultural mediation’ and clarifications, in order to ‘bridge the gap between the court and
the deaf person’ and to account for the visual nature of sign language (The Advocate’s
Gateway 2018: 26). In the case of Deaf persons with additional communication needs,
courts in the UK may use Deaf interpreters (also known as Deaf relays), who are deaf and
are usually registered intermediaries, mediating between the Deaf client and a hearing
sign language interpreter: it may involve intralingual translation within sign language,
such as ‘tactile signing, addition information or examples, using visual cues or role-play,
drawing pictures or using other visual props’ (The Advocate’s Gateway 2018: 10). Doing
so helps to monitor the level of understanding and make necessary adjustments, to ensure
effective legal communication.
CONCLUSION
This chapter surveyed how intralingual, interlingual and intersemiotic translation is used
alternatively in the domain of law and legal studies. When regulated by law, interlingual
translation is most often understood as a language right of minorities and a procedural
right of suspected and accused persons in criminal proceedings, to safeguard their
fairness. Historically, translation has, throughout the centuries, been closely linked to the
114 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
transnational circulation of legal ideas and has helped to control, but also to reform and
innovate. This transfer of legal ideas is known mainly under the name of legal transplants,
but is also discussed by some legal scholars as ‘legal translation’, with the focus on how
transplanted ideas are adapted in the target system. Other uses of interlingual translation
may be found in multilingual drafting when law is passed in more than one language, even
though the term ‘translation’ tends to be avoided in order to avoid undermining the status
of a translated legal act. In respect of intralingual translation, we discussed its prevalent use
in the drafting and application of law: the translation of policies into law, terminological
harmonization of Canadian law, transposition of EU directives into national law, and
interpretation of legal norms from legal provisions. As we demonstrated, intralingual legal
translation does not in principle consist in simplification and tends to limit the degree of
freedom. It revolves around the language of the law and its transformations into another
language of the law (e.g. transposition), or into other types of legal language when it takes
place within a legal system. With intersemiotic translation, complex legal information
is designed partly or signed fully with visual signs. To sum up, as demonstrated in this
chapter, law can foreground hitherto hidden aspects of translation that go beyond the
traditional understanding of translation as interlingual transfer.
NOTES
1 Article 7, Treaty between the Principal Allied and Associated Powers and Poland, signed at
Versailles, 28 June 1919.
2 ‘transplant, v.’ OED Online. Oxford University Press, December 2020, Available online:
www.oed.com/view/Entry/204998 (accessed 16 January 2021).
3 Plea bargaining is an agreement between a prosecutor and a defendant in which the
defendant pleads guilty in exchange for some concessions on the part of the prosecutor
(Garner 2009: 1270).
4 There is some terminological confusion concerning these terms: both legal language and
the language of the law are used in a generic and specific sense (cf. Biel 2014: 19–20 for
discussion).
5 For instance, Polish legislative rules have a binding force as ordinances, while the UK and
Canadian drafting manuals are not binding; there are no written drafting rules in some
countries (e.g. Malta).
6 Cabinet Office, Guide to Making Legislation, July 2017, Available online: https://assets.
publishing.service.gov.uk/government/uploads/system/uploads/attachment_data/file/645652/
Guide_to_Making_Legislation_Jul_2017.pdf (accessed 10 March 2021).
7 Available at https://bip.rcl.gov.pl/rcl/legislacja/inne-projekty-archiwum/1438,Projekt-
zalozen-do-projektu-ustawy-o-kontroli-w-administracji-rzadowej.html
8 Ustawa z dnia 8 sierpnia 1996 r. o Radzie Ministrów (Dz. U. z 2021 r. poz. 178), Article 7.2.
9 See the Australian drafting guidelines: ‘[d]rafters do not make policy’, OPC’s Drafting
Services: A Guide for Clients, Canberra 2016, p. 10, Available online: https://www.opc.gov.
au/sites/default/files/s13ag320.v49.pdf (accessed 10 March 2021).
10 Drafting Instructions – Template and Guidelines, p. 1. Available online: https://www.gov.
bm/sites/default/files/Legislation-Drafting-Instructions-Template.pdf
11 For more information, see Wood (1996), Šarčević (2005), Gémar (2013).
TRANSLATION IN LAW 115
12 Federal Law–Civil Law Harmonization Act, No. 1, S.C. 2001, c. 4, Federal Law-Civil Law
Harmonization Act, No. 2, S.C. 2004, c. 25; Federal Law-Civil Law Harmonization Act,
No. 3, S.C. 2011, c. 2.
13 Schreiber v. Canada (A.G.), [2002] 3 S.C.R. 269.
14 ‘transpose, v.’ OED Online, Oxford University Press, December 2020, Available online:
www.oed.com/view/Entry/205034 (accessed 16 January 2021).
15 Article 288, the Treaty on the Functioning of the European Union, TFEU.
16 The Civil Code (2011), tr. Ewa Kucharska, Warszawa: Beck.
17 The Criminal Code (2014), trans. Włodzimierz Wróbel, Adam Wojtaszczyk, Witold Zontek,
Warszawa: Wolters Kluwer.
18 Examples of legal design thinking may be found on the website of the Stanford Legal
Design Lab at the Stanford Law School and the Stanford University’s Institute of Design:
https://www.legaltechdesign.com/
19 We wish to thank Dr Aleksandra Kalata-Zawłocka of the Institute of Applied Linguistics,
University of Warsaw, for consultations concerning sign language interpreting.
20 For video illustrations of how selected legal concepts are signed in ASL, see the
website of the National Consortium of Interpreter Education Centers: http://www.
interpretereducation.org/specialization/legal/terminology/
REFERENCES
Advocate’s Gateway (2018), Planning to Question Someone Who Is Deaf. Toolkit 11. Available
online: https://www.theadvocatesgateway.org/images/toolkits/11-planning-to-question-
someone-who-is-deaf-2016.pdf
Aquilina, K. (2017), ‘Legislative Drafting and Statutory Interpretation in the Maltese Mixed
Legal System’, International Journal of Legislative Drafting and Law Reform, 5 (1): 42–57.
Bajčić, M. (2018), ‘The Role of EU Legal English in Shaping EU Legal Culture’, International
Journal of Language and Law, 7: 8–24. https://doi.org./10.14762/jll.2018.008
Bastarache, M. (2000), ‘Bijuralism in Canada’, in Department of Justice Canada, Bijuralism
and Harmonization: Genesis. Available online: https://www.justice.gc.ca/eng/rp-pr/csj-sjc/
harmonization/hfl-hlf/b1-f1/bf1.pdf
Biel, Ł. (2014), Lost in the Eurofog. The Textual Fit of Translated Law, Frankfurt am Main:
Peter Lang.
Biel, Ł. (2019), ‘Theoretical and Methodological Challenges in Researching EU Legal
Translation’, in I. Simonnæs and M. Kristiansen (eds), Legal Translation. Current Issues and
Challenges in Research, Methods and Applications, 25–39, Berlin: Frank and Timme.
Biel, Ł. and A. Doczekalska (2020), ‘How Do Supranational Terms Transfer into National
Legal Systems?: A Corpus-informed Study of EU English Terminology in Consumer
Protection Directives and UK, Irish and Maltese Transposing Acts’, Terminology.
International Journal of Theoretical and Applied Issues in Specialized Communication,
26 (2): 184–212. https://doi.org/10.1075/term.00050.bie
Borski, M. (2018), ‘Przygotowywanie projektów ustaw przez Radę Ministrów – wybrane
zagadnienia’ [Preparation of Legislative Bills by the Council of Ministers – Selected
Aspects]’, Roczniki Administracji i Prawa, 18 (2): 39–56.
Bradley, K. S. C. (2017), ‘Legislating in the European Union’, in C. Barnard and S. Peers (eds),
European Union Law, 2nd edn, 97–142, Oxford: Oxford University Press.
116 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
Kjær, A. L. (2007), ‘Legal Translation in the European Union: A Research Field in Need of
a New Approach’, in K. Kredens and S. Goźdź-Roszkowski (eds), Language and the Law:
International Outlooks, 69–95, Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang.
Korybski, A. (2015), ‘Application of Law as an Object of Study: Key Concepts, Issues and
Research Approaches’, Studia Iuridica Lublinensia, 24 (2): 13–25.
Koskinen, K. (2001), ‘How to Research EU Translation?’, Perspectives, 9 (4): 293–300. https://
doi.org./10.1080/0907676X.2001.9961425
Langer, M. (2004), ‘From Legal Transplants to Legal Translations: The Globalization of Plea
Bargaining and the Americanization Thesis in Criminal Procedure’, Harvard International
Law Journal, 45(1): 1–64.
Legrand, P. (1997), ‘The Impossibility of “Legal Transplants”’, Maastricht Journal of European
and Comparative Law, 4 (2): 111–24. https://doi.org./10.1177/1023263x9700400202
Lelieveldt, H. and S. Princen (2015), The Politics of the European Union, 2nd edn, Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press.
Long, J. S. (1918), The Sign Language: A Manual of Signs, Washington, DC: Gallaudet College
Press.
Mattila, H. E. S. (2006), Comparative Legal Linguistics, Hampshire: Ashgate.
Ntaba, Z. (2016), ‘Pre-Legislative Scrutiny’, in C. Stefanou and H. Xanthaki (eds), Drafting
Legislation. A Modern Approach, 145–57, London: Routledge.
Nzerem, R. C. (2016), ‘The Role of the Legislative Drafter in Promoting Social
Transformation’, in C. Stefanou and H. Xanthaki (eds), Drafting Legislation. A Modern
Approach, 158–79, London: Routledge.
Office of Legislative Counsel (2013), A Guide to Legislation and Legislative Process in British
Columbia. Part 3 – Guide to Preparing Drafting Instructions, Office of Legislative Counsel.
Available online: https://www.crownpub.bc.ca/Content/documents/3-DraftingInstructions_
August2013.pdf
Örücü, E. (2002), ‘Law as Transposition’, International and Comparative Law Quarterly, 51
(2): 205–23. https://doi.org./10.1093/iclq/51.2.205
Perju, V. (2012), ‘Constitutional Transplants, Borrowing, and Migrations’, in M. Rosenfeld
and A. Sajó (eds), Oxford Handbook of Comparative Constitutional Law, 1304–27, Oxford:
Oxford University Press.
Robinson, W. (2017), ‘EU Legislation’, in U. Karpen and H. Xanthaki (eds), Legislation in
Europe. A Comprehensive Guide for Scholars and Practitioners, 229–56, Oxford: Hart.
Šarčević, S. (1997), New Approach to Legal Translation, The Hague: Kluwer Law International.
Šarčević, S. (2005), ‘The Quest for Legislative Bilingualism and Multilingualism: Co-drafting in
Canada and Switzerland’, in J-C. Gémar and N. Kasirer (eds), Jurilinguistique: entre langues
et droits – Jurilinguistics: Between Law and Language, 277–92, Bruxelles: Les Édition
juridiques Bruylant.
Šarčević, S. (2012), ‘Coping with the Challenges of Legal Translation in Harmonization’,
in C. J. W. Baaij (ed), The Role of Legal Translation in Legal Harmonization, 83–107,
Alphen aan den Rijn: Kluwer Law International.
Seidman, A. and R. B. Seidman (2016), ‘Between Policy and Implementation: Legislative
Drafting for Development’, in C. Stefanou and H. Xanthaki (eds), Drafting Legislation.
A Modern Approach, 329–62, London: Routledge.
Shaffer, B. (2018), ‘Tracing the Origins of Legal Terminology in ASL: Perspectives for ASL/
English Interpreters’, Journal of Interpretation, 26 (1): Article 4. Available online: https://
digitalcommons.unf.edu/joi/vol26/iss1/4
Siems, M. (2014), Comparative Law, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
118 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
Siems, M. (2018), ‘Malicious Legal Transplants’, Legal Studies, 38 (1): 103–19. https://doi.
org./10.1017/lst.2017.4
Stefanou, C. (2016), ‘Drafting, Drafters and the Policy Process’, in C. Stefanou and
H. Xanthaki (eds), Drafting Legislation. A Modern Approach, 364–76, London: Routledge.
Sullivan, R. (2004), ‘The Challenges of Interpreting Multilingual, Multijural Legislation’,
Brooklyn Journal of International Law, 29: 986–1066.
Szczepankowska, I. (2004), Język prawny I Rzeczypospolitej w ‘Zbiorze praw sądowych’
Andrzeja Zamojskiego. Tom 1, Pojęcia Prawne [Language of the law of the First Polish
Republic in ‘The Collection of Court Laws’ ed. Andrzej Zamojski. Volume 1, Legal concepts],
Białystok: Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu w Białymstoku.
Thring, H. (1878), Practical Legislation, or, The Composition and Language of Acts of
Parliament, London: H.M. Stationery Office.
Tiersma, P. M. (2012), ‘A History of the Languages of Law’, in L. M. Solan and P. M. Tiersma
(eds), The Oxford Handbook of Language and Law, Oxford Handbooks Online, Oxford
University Press. https://doi.org./:10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199572120.001.0001
Voermans, W. (2008), Transposition of EU Legislation into Domestic Law: Challenges Faced
by National Parliaments, Briefing requested by the JURI committee, European Parliament.
Available online: http://www.epgencms.europarl.europa.eu/cmsdata/upload/7d46f259–
9481–469c-922b-8172803a15d2/IPOL_Briefing_Transposition_of_EU_legislation_into_
domestic_law.pdf
Wagner, E., S. Bech, and J. M. Martínez (2002), Translating for the European Union
Institutions, Manchester: St Jerome Publishing.
Watson, A. (1974), Legal Transplants: An Approach to Comparative Law, Edinburgh: Scottish
Academic Press.
Wellington, L. M. (2001), ‘Bijuralism in Canada: Harmonization Methodology and
Terminology’, in Department of Justice Canada, The Harmonization of Federal Legislation
with the Civil Law of the Province of Quebec and Canadian Bijuralism, Booklet 4, 1–25,
Ottawa: Department of Justice, Canada.
Wheatley, S. (2005), Democracy, Minorities and International Law, Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press.
Wood, M. J. B. (1996), ‘Drafting Bilingual Legislation in Canada: Examples of Beneficial Cross-
Pollination between the Two Language Versions’, Statute Law Review, 17 (1): 66–77.
Woods, L., P. Watson, and M. Costa (2017), Steiner and Woods EU law, 13th edn, Oxford:
Oxford University Press.
Wróblewski, B. (1948), Język prawny i prawniczy [Language of the law and legal language],
Kraków: Polska Akademia Umiejętności.
Zethsen, K. (2009), ‘Intralingual Translation: An Attempt at Description’, Meta, 54 (4):
795–812. https://doi.org/10.7202/038904ar
CHAPTER SEVEN
Translation Approaches
within Organization Studies
SUSANNE TIETZE, KAISA KOSKINEN AND REBECCA PIEKKARI
In other words, the kind of concrete interlingual translation we might call prototypical
(Halverson 2000), or translation proper (Jakobson 2000), is often overlooked, whereas
a broader, more metaphorical meaning of translation is theorized extensively and
studied empirically.
We start this chapter by providing a brief overview of organization studies, including
an explanation of its position vis-à-vis the English language. We want to demonstrate the
(interlingual) translation blindness of this field, which occurs even in research projects
located in multilingual environments. Our main aim in this section is to establish the key
characteristics of organization studies, as these are pertinent also to its current treatments
of translation and a possible future integration of interlingual translation. After providing
an overview of organization studies, we outline different approaches to translation, such as
translation as organizational change, and as a metaphor for movement across the globe, as
established by particular schools of thought within the broad field of organization studies.
We then proceed to introduce three contemporary empirical studies that started to focus
their enquiry on language plurality and the concomitant existence, use and function of
interlingual translation. While we acknowledge that these approaches could be linked to
existing research in translation studies and elsewhere – and this might be an interesting
intellectual exercise in its own right – our current aim is not to tease out connections to
translation theories where they have not been created by the original authors. Instead, we
want to illustrate what kinds of translation concepts have been evoked in organization
studies and to highlight when the authors have, indeed, turned to translation studies for
inspiration, and when not. Our own position, as expressed before (Piekkari et al. 2020),
is strongly in favour of continued dialogue with translation studies.
In what follows, we explore the benefits of including interlingual translation,
understood as a language practice in multilingual contexts, in the intellectual project of
organization studies. We argue that such an approach is aligned well with the purposes
and orientations of organization studies. As we show below, existing research draws
on many sources and conceptualizations of translation, though direct borrowing form
translation studies is still rare. We conclude with an optimistic look into the future of
translation as fully integrated into organization studies. This optimistic view is based on
the existence of some contemporary studies, both empirical and conceptual, in which
collaborations between organization studies and translation studies scholars enable
analysis of organizational processes from a translation perspective (Ciuk et al. 2019;
Piekkari et al. 2020).
TRANSLATION APPROACHES IN
ORGANIZATION STUDIES
We now turn to literature which aligns the concept of translation with an understanding
and conceptualization of organizational change. We begin by discussing a special issue
that was published in 2013, and which was accompanied by an editorial paper in which
new trajectories for the use of translation in organizational change literatures were set.
This collection of six empirical papers in the Journal of Change Management was titled
Translating Translation and Change: Discourse-based Approaches; it was edited by
Doolin, Grant and Thomas. This collection is of interest to this chapter, as it integrates
different language-based approaches (namely, discourse and communication) with
translation as a conceptually new take on the discursive-communicative construction
of organizations. As mentioned earlier, organizational change is mainly researched and
theorized through discourse-based studies that focus on the use of discursive resources, on
the one hand, and communication-based studies focusing on language-based exchanges
between organizational actors, on the other hand. These approaches overlap strongly, as
they share the same epistemological orientation and a strong focus on micro-settings and
concomitant methodologies. Thus, there is more commonality than difference between
discourse and communication-sensitive scholars.
through using translation as part of their vocabulary, with the main understanding of
translation being descriptive, expressive and useful to engage with for analysing processes
of organizational change. Based on their reading of extant organizational change
literature, together with the six published papers included in the special issue, the editors
demonstrate that it is possible to establish six different approaches to translation that are
discernible in the discursive and communication-oriented change literature.
The first of these six approaches is ‘translation as engagement’. It sees organizations
as conversationally constructed realities, and organizational change is achieved through
change agents who facilitate a change in the conversations. In other words, translation
is viewed as part of changing organizational conversations to an ongoing dialogue.
This approach stresses the importance of dialogue in the change process, and the co-
construction of meanings by organizational members. Both change agents and change
recipients are engaged in initiating effective change. The second approach, ‘translation
as endless transmutations’, is also focused on the organization, as an emerging
achievement of the process of ongoing conversations, which are regarded as translations
in themselves. The authors explain that ‘translation can be understood as endless
transmutations as the organisation forms and reforms in communicative interaction’
(Doolin et al. 2013: 256).
Such a conversational and communicative process is always accompanied by struggles
regarding meanings and is, therefore, caught up in relations of power. Doolin et al. relate
to this as ‘translation as struggle’, and different actors bring their perspectives, values and
vested interests to the ongoing negotiations. In these micro-processes, change can also be
resisted, subverted and appropriated. ‘Translation as translocation’ is, in turn, concerned
with ‘the movement of meanings across space and times to bring about institutional change’
(Doolin et al. 2013: 257). The fourth approach is called the ‘translocation approach’ and
it stresses that, through the translation of new meanings across institutional boundaries,
meanings are not merely spread but actively reshaped as they move across time and
space. The fifth approach, ‘translation as transgression’, highlights the importance of also
targeting change discourse from a resistance perspective. Resistance can be individual or
collective and may be displayed through humour, irony, cynicism, satire and so forth.
The last approach is titled ‘translation as colonization’. In this case, the editors turn to
the production of knowledge about organizations and the use of language (English) in
the research process, and point to issues of privileging English-language scholarship.
They base their critique on assumptions that such scholarship can be universally applied
across cultures.
These six approaches are a useful starting point to describe the complexities that
accompany organizational change. Doolin et al. point out that many of the approaches
identified overlap. Indeed, we could add that, at times, they even conflate completely. For
example, we see ‘translation as transgression’ to be closely related to the ‘translation as
struggle’ approach, as it acknowledges translation as a way through which resistance to
change can be expressed and enacted. The former approach also explores ‘other voices’
(Doolin et al. 2013: 259) such as those of subordinates or managers in translating change
initiatives for their own interest, and the means they deploy to do so. While the six
approaches are useful descriptors, they are not as yet finely honed analytical categories.
A quick citation analysis also confirms this: Most scholars citing this paper use it to
justify their conceptualization of organizational change as discourse rather than to make
nuanced distinctions between approaches to translation. Yet, this categorization can
inform the reading of the organizational change literature, as well as guide future research.
TRANSLATION APPROACHES WITHIN ORGANIZATION STUDIES 125
For example, it would be interesting to investigate how and to which consequence the
different approaches to translation interlink and interact. These approaches also serve as
a useful heuristics to expand the vocabulary of organizational studies.
Scandinavian institutionalism
A lasting contribution to the translation approach was made by Scandinavian
institutionalism (Czarniawska and Sevón 1996; 2005) – a school of thought inspired by
actor network theory (Callon 1986; Latour 1986). As its name indicates, Scandinavian
institutionalism initially consisted of the work of scholars based in Sweden, Denmark and
Norway (Brunsson 1989; Brunsson and Olsen 1993; Czarniawska and Joerges 1996;
Czarniawska and Sevón 1996; 2005; Sahlin-Andersson and Engwall 2002; Boxenbaum
and Pedersen 2009; Wedlin and Sahlin 2017). It has developed a clear definition of
translation in response to the movement and change of meanings, ideas, practices, objects
and resources across the globe. It is also an influential school of thought, and its definition
of translation continues to be adopted by organizational researchers. As an intellectual
project, it is more strongly committed to translation than the discursive-communicative
approaches developed by other organization studies research.
By translation, Scandinavian institutionalism scholars understand the ‘modification that
a practice or an idea undergoes when it is implemented in a new organisational context’
(Boxenbaum and Pedersen 2009: 190–1). Such contexts can entail the same language
environment (e.g. the implementation of a private sector practice, such as performance
management, within a public sector setting in an English-speaking domain), but also two
different contexts, when practices generated within a particular cultural and language
context are transported into a culturally and linguistically different one. In this regard,
Scandinavian institutionalism corresponds to the ‘translation as translocation’ approach
proposed by Doolin et al. (2013).
Such translocation processes are, of course, always characterized by uncertainty
and are expressive of the ‘ambiguity of change’ in organizations (Czarniawska 2008:
772). Understanding translation as a process triggered by movement and relocation
of practices and their reception at different locations provides an explanation for why
organizational practices are distinct, rather than becoming isomorphic and standardized
in an organizational field (Boxenbaum and Pedersen 2009). Organizational practices are
understood as a bundle of routines and actions, such as diversity management (Boxenbaum
2006), quality circles (Saka 2004), total quality management (Erçek and Say 2008) or lean
management (MacDuffie and Helper 1999) that are used to accomplish a certain task and
often meant to render the organization more effective and modern, making it, in turn,
also more standardized.
Organizational scholars have stressed the need to develop ‘a micro-level component
of institutional analysis’ and connect macro-framings with mundane practice (Powell and
Colyvas 2008: 271). Scandinavian institutionalism researchers study the agency of local
actors as ‘translators’ who actively receive, transform and spread organizational practices
to fit local agendas and who render foreign ideas understandable and meaningful for local
practice (Czarniawska and Sevón 1996; 2005; Boxenbaum 2006). These local actors have
also been conceptualized as carriers (Sahlin-Andersson and Engwall 2002) and editors
(Sahlin-Andersson 1996) of knowledge, as well as boundary-spanners, who enable
knowledge to transfer across boundaries (Barner-Rasmussen et al. 2014; Søderberg and
Romani 2017). Thus, translation work, like other institutional work, is characterized
126 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
by ‘embedded agency’ (Battilana and D’Aunno 2009), which ordinary employees and
managers, external organizational consultants, or even friends or family members of
employees mobilize to get their work done (Piekkari et al. 2013). The empirical paper
by Mueller and Whittle (2011), published in the journal Organisation Studies and titled
‘Translating Management Ideas: A Discursive Devices Analysis’, provides a typical
application of the ideas expressively contributed by Scandinavian institutionalism. The
paper is located in a monolingual (English) environment and investigates how management
ideas (total quality management) are translated in a private-public partnership. It
demonstrates how – in meeting conversations, and also informal conversations over
the coffee machine – skilful agents activate a series of discursive-rhetorical devices
through which the (new) meaning of total quality management is translated into the
new organizational context. The authors execute a discursive devices analysis (a method
to distil rhetorical expressions from naturally occurring talk) of how management ideas
about quality improvement are employed by two individual organizational agents. These
agents render the incoming practices of quality management derived from the private
sector palatable to the recipient audience, that is, employees in the public sector. The
authors identify particular discursive devices that the two agents use (e.g. display of
empathy/sympathy, footing, categorization, concession, spontaneity), with a view to
introducing the notion of quality improvements as necessary, important and legitimate
in observed training meetings. This approach to analysis of talk locates the study, in the
first instance, as a discourse-based one. However, the totality of the discursive devices is
framed as a skilful translation process, in which several participants exchange views and
perspectives. This process is ultimately (rhetorically) managed by the two key agents, who
are also tasked with enabling the implementation of new practices. Translation refers
to the translation process whereby incoming practices are received, made sense of and
integrated into existing practice through dialogue.
Many studies in Scandinavian institutionalism happen to have been conducted in
multilingual organizations, such as multinational corporations (MNC), although this
setting does not receive much attention. Becker-Ritterspach et al. (2010) studied two
subsidiaries (in the UK and Germany) within a Dutch MNC and focused on determining
why these subsidiaries had developed such different learning strategies. While the study
adopted, in general, Scandinavian institutionalist ideas about the importance of local
actors in receiving and implementing an incoming practice, it also contains empirical
data that points to interlingual translation work. For example, in the German subsidiary,
an initiative labelled ‘Star Trek’ was translated into nichts ist unmöglich [nothing is
impossible], in order to gain the cooperation of the local workforce. The reason was
that it was believed that an Americanized appeal to the pioneering spirit of the space-
bound founding fathers would not be well received by the German workforce; thus, this
possible unease with the American title was resolved through an interlingual translation.
The interlingual translation act here deletes the original meaning and replaces it with
local ones. The main themes of this study are embedded in social learning theory and
theorized within the translation approach of Scandinavian institutionalism, as showing
that ‘learning is intimately connected to translation’ (Becker-Ritterspach et al. 2010: 30).
As the German case shows, the institutionalization of new practices means that local
actors need to translate these practices interlingually into their own languages, meanings
and practices, if people are to identify with them and render them their own.
Another example is provided by Meyer and Höllerer (2010), who studied how the
concept of ‘shareholder value’ was received in an institutional-cultural context (Austria)
where economic stakeholder models prevail. They found that the concept of shareholder
TRANSLATION APPROACHES WITHIN ORGANIZATION STUDIES 127
value changed when it moved from an Anglo-American context to Austria; this change
was partly brought about through interlingual translation. It is reported that the
German translation of the English term was more ambiguously framed than the original,
accentuating the local tradition of a strong stakeholder approach to governance. The
authors interpreted the interlingual translation process as a deliberate attempt to protect
the local meaning and values from incoming meanings of shareholder values. In this
regard, the translatorial skopos was oriented to protecting the local meaning in light of
the powerful incoming meanings of shareholder value discourses.
Neither of the two studies we introduced above concerns itself directly with
interlingual translation. The authors may present individual words or phrases rather than
more extensive textual features (e.g. style or tone). Their use of interlingual translation
can almost be likened to a cunning ‘smuggling in’ of some of the local meanings, values
and perspectives. For example, in the study by Meyer and Höllerer (2010), the dominant,
original concepts in English are translated into the local language, and through this act of
translation they are also changed. While these scholars show awareness of the existence
of interlingual translation acts and subsequent changes in meanings, and their studies
contain empirical examples of important adjusting or challenging aspects performed
through translation activity, they do not seriously engage with it.
Our discussion has shown that, while Scandinavian institutionalism does acknowledge
the interlingual meaning of translation, it is certainly not explicitly investigated or
theorized. In fact, the founding authors explicitly distanced themselves from this
view (Czarniawska and Sevón 1996), thus, leaving Scandinavian institutionalism a
monolingual school of thought. Interestingly, Scandinavian institutionalism scholars
initially developed their approach in relative isolation, because research in this tradition
was often published in Swedish or Danish (Boxenbaum and Pedersen 2009). Choosing
Swedish or Danish as the language of publication meant that, due to lack of translation,
English-language audiences of management scholarship could not immediately access
the knowledge generated by this group of researchers. This legacy may explain why the
actual language component is elided and collection of multilingual data is not part of
research design in this tradition – obliging readers rely on the authors’ interpretation.
Translators in Scandinavian institutionalism often just happen to be bilingual or
otherwise have access to the language in which the incoming organizational practices
are expressed. From our perspective, the lack of multilingual data could be seen as a
missed opportunity.
In conclusion, we propose that organization studies uses translation ‘liberally’ as a
theoretical approach (as per Scandinavian institutionalism), a loose descriptor of changes
in meaning, or a conceptual approach stressing particular aspects of the change process
(as per Doolin et al. 2013). Organization studies is mainly monolingual in orientation and
relies – unreflexively – on the assumed, in-built ability of the English language to express
and capture all existing and potentially possible situations and events. Philosophically,
these approaches embrace constructionist epistemologies and have an interest in
language as used in contexts, where skilful acts of translation enable communicative
and dialogic exchanges upon which organizations are talked into being by individual or
collective agents.
In the next section, we present three recent studies in organization studies that explicitly
draw on interlingual translation and vocabulary from translation studies to understand
change processes in multilingual organizations. We take these three studies as indicative
that the field is starting to intellectually engage with translation in the interlingual sense,
and with the discipline of translation studies.
128 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
interlingual translation acts are ongoing and multifaceted and constitute organizations as
much as other forms of communication.
The second study, by Outila et al. (2020), reports how middle managers in a Russian
subsidiary translate empowerment – a ‘Western’ management concept imposed by the
Finnish headquarters of the MNC. Empowerment refers to a set of practices that gives
power to someone in a subordinate position. In Russia, managers are less expected to
share power with their subordinates, because the country is characterized by authoritative
leadership (Fey and Shekshnia 2011). As there is no equivalent term for empowerment
in Russian, middle managers ended up translating this concept both literally and
metaphorically during research interviews. They mobilized proverbs to address competing
discourses of what is considered ‘good management’ in Russia and the Western world.
Although the disciplinary convention is to publish in English only, the authors made the
use of Russian visible in some of the transliteral and idiomatic translations of the proverbs.
The authors explain in detail the methodological challenges of translating proverbs
from Russian to English, and document the collective effort of several rounds of
translation during which both professional and paraprofessional translators were involved.
The authors highlight the value of proverbs as an understudied discursive resource in
translation activities on the ground. The paper also examines the dual role of middle
managers, as both translators and implementers of an imported and imposed concept in a
local subsidiary. The study is of interest for organizational scholars, as it documents how
ongoing translation processes were part of data analysis in multilingual research. During
data analysis, researchers were linguistically challenged to translate Russian proverbs
into English and engaged in extended translation work, including the involvement of a
professional interpreter, and also a proofreader.
First, this study demonstrates how the lack of equivalence of meaning of particular
concepts between different languages (see also Xian 2008, Tietze et al. 2017) causes
complexities when implementing practices expressed in words that do not exist in
another language context. Second, Outila et al. (2020) provide a rare insight into the
open-endedness and collective nature of the translation process of data when reporting
findings from a non-English context to English-speaking audiences. Detailing the
translation process in full is an aspect yet to be explored by the reporting protocols of
organization studies.
The third paper, by Westney and Piekkari (2020), is a historical case study of the
movement of organizational practices from Japan to the United States from the 1970s
through the mid-1990s. The study examines the challenges caused by reversing the
translation flow of management knowledge, which, since the Second World War, had
been overwhelmingly from the United States to the rest of the world. Due to the deep-
reaching societal, cultural, political and institutional differences between the sending
and receiving contexts, both American and Japanese translators struggled to move
Japanese management models into the United States. Moving management models and
practices from Japan – which was long viewed by Americans as a ‘copycat’ and imitator
of American models – into the very different social context of the United States was
an unusual case of ‘reversing the translation flow’. The Westney and Piekkari (2020)
study drew on translation studies to make several contributions to the organizational
translation approach.
Organizational translation scholars have studied the movement of American
management models and practices to other societies in terms of two types of paraprofessional
translators. The first is the set of management consultants, academics and practitioners
who construct general models of ‘best practice’ based on American organizations (e.g.
130 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
Sahlin-Andersson and Engwall 2002). Westney and Piekkari (2020) observe that these
translators created different general models of ‘Japanese management’, depending on
managers’ field of expertise. For example, operations management experts produced
models focusing on Japanese operations management practices, using the terminology
and concepts of their field, whereas human resource management experts observing
the same Japanese factories saw practices through the filter of their discipline. The
researchers paid attention to work teams, shared incentives and training, people-centric
managers and lifetime employment as the key success factors in Japanese management.
Westney and Piekkari (2020) call this group ‘indirect translators’. The second group of
translators, on which previous organizational translation scholars had focused, were what
might be called ‘receiver translators’: Those who are actively engaged in trying to move
the imported Japanese models into actual practices in local American organizations (e.g.
Boxenbaum 2006; Wæraas and Sataøen 2014).
The employees of Japanese companies that were setting up factories in the United
States (especially automobile factories, which were so effective in moving practices from
the Japanese parent plant to the United States that they were called ‘transplants’) were
identified as ‘direct translators’. They were sent into the subsidiaries in remarkably large
numbers to take practices that they knew first-hand from their own experience directly
into practice on the factory floor in the United States. Because these translators were
engaged in taking very specific practices into the receiving organization and demonstrating
them directly to American employees, Westney and Piekkari (2020) call them ‘direct
translators’.
Another insight provided by the lengthy period covered by Westney and Piekkari’s
study relates to the importance of sustained interaction over time across translators,
translations, and translation processes. The authors drew on the concept of a ‘translation
ecology’, which had recently been proposed by Wedlin and Sahlin (2017), to investigate
how, over time, translators both built on and contested previous translations. In this way,
the translators positioned and differentiated the new translations, creating a dynamic
‘translation ecosystem’. Audiences too frequently ‘read’ the new translations in terms of
their relationship with earlier, often established, translations, as the Japanese context became
more familiar to them. For both these processes – the interactions between translators
and audiences, and the development of the translation ecosystem – Westney and Piekkari
(2020) drew on Venuti’s (1995; 2013) typology of foreignization and domestication.
To sum up, these papers are, as far as we know, rare examples of empirical analyses
that borrow directly from translation studies as a means to investigate the reception
process of imported organizational practices. They emphasize the multifaceted nature of
translation work undertaken in MNCs and beyond. These studies draw implicitly on the
core concept of translators’ skopos1 – the purpose or goal of translation work – which
underscores the purposeful nature of translation work. They also highlight the role of
paraprofessional interlingual translators who engage in translation activities alongside
their recognized organizational role and who are, therefore, more extensively embedded
in the organizational reality than translation professionals. Because of their double role,
these translators are more likely to use their agency in translation work (Piekkari et al.
2020). Finally, the three papers deal with the issue of translator (in)visibility. They
challenge the common understanding of interlingual translation as a mere mechanistic
act and, instead, make visible translators’ agentic role and active involvement in meaning-
making. Table 7.1 summarizes how the three articles borrow from translation studies.
TRANSLATION APPROACHES WITHIN ORGANIZATION STUDIES 131
DISCUSSION
‘Translation’ is an attractive term that is increasingly being used by organizational scholars.
Often, it is used in quite a loose way – a synonym for organizational change and for
describing change processes, including the movement of ideas and practices across time
and space. Translation, if understood as interlingual translation enacted in multilingual
organizational contexts, is hardly integrated into organization studies’ intellectual
project. We consider this to be a serious omission, as many even domestically located
organizations have pockets of multilingual activities within workforces, administration
and supply chains, let alone customer bases and markets. In this regard, it is not only the
MNCs that are multilingual in essence.
We regard the three studies we reviewed above as indicative of a new stream of
inquiry that takes into account the existence of multilingual phenomena. Their existence
is important for integrating language plurality and interlingual translation into the
vocabulary and projects of organization studies scholars. While useful, we critique the
approaches developed by Doolin et al. (2013) as relatively vague and conflating. In
multilingual settings, other studies have fine-tuned the change work achieved through
the (hidden) means of interlingual translation and provided categories for establishing
new meanings, such as purposing, reframing, domesticating and inscribing (Ciuk
et al. 2019). As a way forward, one wonders whether it becomes possible to bring
together some of the categories developed by Doolin et al. (2013) with the functions of
interlingual translation identified by Ciuk et al. (2019). In this way, a more sophisticated
understanding of interlingual translation in multilingual settings could emerge: For
example, could ‘repurposing’ be used to shed light on ‘translation as struggle’, as one of
TRANSLATION APPROACHES WITHIN ORGANIZATION STUDIES 133
the organizational change realities? A strong engagement with issues of power, whether
individual or institutional, is an important step forward for organization studies in terms
of including how it plays out in multilingual settings. Westney and Piekkari (2020),
for example, stress that MNCs are powerful socio-political institutions and highlight
their role as important players in the wider ‘translation ecology’. MNCs are engaged
in managing and coordinating subunits located in different societies and cultures, and
these activities include the rejection of old translations and the production of new
ones. Thus, their power base and their exercise of power could be conceptualized as
the movement of translations across space and time, and introducing meanings and
practices in new contexts. In this regard, the meeting of multiple languages in and
around an MNC serves as a ‘translation incubator’ for developing managers who serve
as organizational – and often interlingual – translators and for testing and refining
translations for different audiences. At some point, subsidiary employees may experience
‘translation fatigue’ from successive waves of change initiatives, each involving yet
another set of translated practices.
Piekkari et al. (2020) opened up a theoretical position; they attempt to align
metaphorical translation (as movement of knowledge, resources and ideas across different
settings, and consequent sense-making at the recipient location) with interlingual
translation when such movement involves the crossing of language boundaries. They
offer a matrix that outlines the mutually constitutive relationship between interlingual
and metaphorical translation, where each can have a high or low occurrence. They are
seen as dependent on each other, with their respective dominance in different settings
influencing the extent to which agency can be exercised. Here, moving forward, it may
be possible to populate their matrix with voices that are included or excluded from the
constitution of multilingual work contexts; mapping their translatorial agency may yield
more depth of understanding of their involvement in this complex relationship. It would
also be an avenue to integrate a key theme of discursive studies – that is, that of power,
voice and agency – into their enactment in multilingual contexts.
These themes have also been widely studied in translation studies, and much fruitful
shared ground could be found. Koskinen (2020) offers a conceptual innovation informed
by translation studies research to understand multilingual organizations as translatorial
spaces, where different agents require different kinds of translation work to be done
or are involved in executing it. The range of translation activity extends itself, from
formal translation of written texts by professional translators, to the more fuzzy and
widespread ad hoc translation or interpreting work undertaken by individuals or
collectives, including management. These agents happen to have language competence in
both source and target languages, and are able and willing to engage in meaning creation
across languages, either to support inclusion or to actively direct the translation process
in the direction they prefer. While, in many multinational organizations, professional
translation is a more or less structured and visible activity, informal translatorial actions
often unfold in an uncontrolled and hidden manner. Employees may resort to ingenious
workarounds (Piekkari et al. 2013), or take translator roles flexibly (Koskela et al. 2017)
and use interlingual translation as a tool for micro-political hidden power, which is often
strengthened because of the smokescreen created by language skills other members lack
(see Koskinen 2020).
As we discussed above, organization studies has a strong preference for qualitative
research, and interviews are often used to elicit information from the ground. Interviews
can reveal important attitudinal and pragmatic aspects related to translation work, but by
134 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
overlooking the comparative language evidence, this work leaves many elements outside
the focus of research. Koskinen (2020) proposes linguistic ethnography, and, in particular,
translatorial linguistic ethnography (her neologism), as a methodological tool for including
the empirical evidence from the field. We support the idea of interdisciplinary research
to combine organizational studies scholars’ in-depth understanding of the processes of
organizing with translation scholars’ expertise on translation strategies and translator
positions and how these play out in the minutiae of linguistic data.
CONCLUSION
In this chapter, we presented the field of enquiry called organization studies and
investigated its treatment of translation, in order to document, understand and analyse
the emergence and changing constitution of work organizations and institutions. We
showed that this field has yet to engage fully with the existence of multiple languages
and translation, though some promising foundations to do so are currently being laid.
Overall, we saw organization studies’ reluctance to engage with language plurality and
interlingual translation as expressive of the continuing influence of the powerful centres
of knowledge production in and through the English language. However, in light of
a recent editorial essay in Organization Studies (the key European journal), we remain
optimistic that contemporary projects aimed at integrating interlingual translation into
organizational analysis will bear fruit (Hjorth et al. 2019: 1779):
The new voices in organization studies have found relevant theoretical support in
translation studies. The next fruitful step might be methodological borrowing. Translation-
sensitive scholars in organization studies have become increasingly aware of the power
and agency vested in translatorial activities, and also the need to pay attention to who
the recipients are and how their expectations and knowledge bases shape the translation
process. Translation studies can offer a variety of methods, both in comparative text
analysis and in studying the reception of translation, that will enable ever more fine-tuned
analyses of translation work in organizations.
Continued exchange of ideas will be equally beneficial for translation scholars.
Although it has, since the 1980s, become a truism to emphasize that translation never
happens in a vacuum and that the context always shapes the intentions and the outcomes
of translation work, research that fully combines a metalevel contextual understanding
of organization work with a detailed analysis of translatorial decisions is still rare. While
translation studies can help organization studies to engage with empirical linguistic
evidence of translation, organization studies and its metaphorical and practice-oriented
understanding of translation can, in return, help translation studies to reconnect with
the idea of contextualization. This would allow translation scholars to link interlingual
translation to core organizational processes of value creation and meaning-making.
TRANSLATION APPROACHES WITHIN ORGANIZATION STUDIES 135
Considering the trajectory of organization studies, on the one hand, moving towards an
increased understanding of the actual linguistic practices in multilingual processes, and
translation studies, on the other hand, becoming ever more keen to explore the intralingual
and intersemiotic areas of Jakobson’s (2000) tripartite model, reveals a disciplinary
chiasma that deserves further study. When other disciplines turn to translation studies,
translation scholars maintain no particular advantage in understanding and theorizing
the wider contextualization of translation. Instead, scholars from neighbouring fields are
coming to translation studies to find answers to questions, such as the role and limits of
equivalence, the interplay of the local and the foreign, and the issue of translational agency
and shifts of meaning in interlingual translation – that is, the traditional core elements
of translation research. The joy and the pain of interdisciplinary collaboration lies in
pushing oneself to rethink and reconsider the fundamentals of one’s own field. While
the future of translation studies will no doubt lie in expanding the notion of translation
further, it also has a unique contribution to make to any field interested in understanding
interlingual communication through decades of empirical work on prototypical written
and spoken interlingual translations, and translators in a multitude of contexts.
In conclusion, organization studies is well equipped to understand the ongoing
constitutions of organizations through discourse and ongoing acts of communications.
The theoretical, philosophical and empirical foundations for this sophisticated
understanding have already been laid. In going forward, we wish for organization studies
to also include communications across languages, translation as well as the use of English
in its intellectual project, to provide deeper insights in the communicative construction of
multilingual organizations.
NOTE
1 In a sister paper to the 2019 article, Ciuk and James (2015) explicitly draw on skopos theory.
REFERENCES
Alvesson, M. and D. Kärreman (2000), ‘Varieties of Discourse in the Study of Organizations
Through Discourse Analysis’, Human Relations, 53 (9): 1125–49. https://doi.
org/10.1177/0018726700539002
Barner-Rasmussen, W., M. Ehrnrooth, A. Koveshnikov and K. Mäkelä (2014), ‘Cultural
and Language Skills as Determinant of Boundary Spanning within the MNC’, Journal of
International Business Studies, 45 (7): 886–905. https://doi.org/10.1057/jibs.2014.7
Bassnett, S. (2014), Translation Studies. 4th edn, London: Routledge.
Battilana, J. and T. D’Aunno (2009), ‘Institutional Work and the Paradox of Embedded
Agency’, in T. B. Lawrence, R. Suddaby and B. Leca (eds), Institutional Work: Actors
and Agency in Institutional Studies of Organization, 31–58, Cambridge, UK: Cambridge
University Press.
Becker-Ritterspach, F., A. Saka-Helmhout and J. J. Hotho (2010), ‘Learning in Multinational
Enterprises as the Socially Embedded Translation of Practices’, Critical Perspectives on
International Business, 6 (1): 8–37. https://doi.org/10.1108/17422041011017603
Boussebaa, M. and J. Tienari (2021), ‘Englishization and the Politics of Knowledge Production
in Management Studies’, Journal of Management Inquiry, 30 (1): 59–67. https://doi.
org/10.1177/1056492619835314
136 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
Erçek, M. and A. İ. Say (2008), ‘Discursive Ambiguity, Professional Networks, and Peripheral
Contexts: The Translation of Total Quality Management in Turkey, 1991–2002’,
International Studies of Management & Organization, 38 (4): 78–99. https://doi.
org/10.2753/imo0020–8825380404
Fairclough, N. (1995), Critical Discourse Analysis: The Critical Study of Language, London:
Longman.
Fey, C. F. and S. Shekshnia (2011), ‘The Key Commandments for Doing Business in Russia’,
Organizational Dynamics, 40 (1): 57–66. http://dx.doi.org/10.2139/ssrn.1116663
Frenkel, M. (2008), ‘The Americanization of the Antimanagerialist Alternative in Israel:
How Foreign Experts Retheorized and Disarmed Workers’ Participation in Management,
1950–1970’, International Studies of Management & Organization, 38 (4): 17–37. https://
doi.org/10.2753/IMO0020–8825380401
Halverson, S. (2000), ‘Prototype Effects in the “Translation” Category’, in A. Chesterman,
N. G. San Salvador and Y. Gambier (eds), Translation in Context. Selected Papers from the
EST Congress, Granada 1998, 3–16, Amsterdam: John Benjamins.
Hermans, T. (2000), ‘Norms of Translation’, in P. France (ed.), The Oxford Guide to Literature
in English Translation, 10–15, Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Hermans, T. (2014 [1985]), The Manipulation of Literature: Studies in Literary Translation,
Beckenham: Croom Helm.
Holz-Mänttäri, J. (1984), Translatorisches Handeln: Theorie und Methode, Helsinki:
Suomalainen Tiedeakatemia.
Hjorth, D., R. Meyer and T. Reay (2019), ‘Happy 40th Birthday, Organization Studies.
Looking Back, Looking Ahead’, Organization Studies, 40 (12): 1779–83. https://doi.
org/10.1177/0170840619891502
Jakobson, R. (2000), ‘On Linguistic Aspects of Translation’, in L. Venuti (ed.), The Translation
Studies Reader, 138–44, London: Routledge.
Koskela, M., K. Koskinen and N. Pilke (2017), ‘Bilingual Formal Meetings as a Context of
Translatoriality’, Target, 29 (3): 464–85. https://doi.org/10.1075/target.16017.kos
Koskinen, K. (2020), ‘Translatorial Linguistic Ethnography in Organizations’, in S. Horn,
P. Lecomte and S. Tietze (eds), Managing Multilingual Workplaces: Methodological,
Empirical and Pedagogic Perspectives, 60–78, Abingdon, UK: Taylor and Francis.
Latour, B. (1986), ‘The Powers of Association’, in J. Law (ed.), Power, Action and Belief: A New
Sociology of Knowledge?, 264–80, London: Routledge and Kegan Paul.
Lillis, T. M. and M. J. Curry (2010), Academic Writing in a Global Context: The Politics and
Practices of Publishing in English, Abingdon: Routledge.
MacDuffie, J. P. and S. Helper (1999), ‘Creating Lean Suppliers: Diffusing Lean Production
through the Supply Chain’, in J. K. Liker, W. M. Fuin and P. S. Adler (eds), Remade
in America: Transplanting and Transforming Japanese Management Systems, 154–200,
New York: Oxford University Press.
Meyer, R. E. (2014), ‘“Re-localization” as Micro-mobilization of Consent and Legitimacy’, in
G. S. Drori, M. A. Höllerer and P. Walgenbach (eds), Global Themes and Local Variations in
Organization and Management: Perspectives on Glocalization, 79–89, New York: Routledge.
Meyer, R. E. and M. A. Höllerer (2010), ‘Meaning Structures in a Contested Issue Field:
A Topographic Map of Shareholder Value in Austria’, Academy of Management Journal,
53 (6): 1241–62. https://doi.org/10.5465/amj.2010.57317829
Mir, R. and A. Mir (2009), ‘From the Colony to the Corporation: Studying Knowledge
Transfer across International Boundaries’, Group and Organization Management, 34 (1):
99–113. https://doi.org/10.1177/1059601108329714
138 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
Tymoczko, M. and E. Gentzler (2002), Translation and Power, Amherst and Boston: University
of Massachusetts Press.
Űsdiken, B. (2010), ‘Between Contending Perspectives and Logics: Organizational Studies in
Europe’, Organization Studies, 31 (6): 715–35. https://doi.org/10.1177/0170840610372581
Venuti, L. (1995/2008), The Translator’s Invisibility: A History of Translation, London:
Routledge.
Venuti, L. (2013), Translation Changes Everything: Theory and Practice, London: Routledge.
Vermeer, H. J. (1996), A Skopos Theory of Translation: Some Arguments for and against,
Heidelberg, Germany: TextconText.
Wæraas, A. and H. L. Sataøen (2014), ‘Trapped in Conformity? Translating Reputation
Management into Practice’, Scandinavian Journal of Management, 30 (2): 242–53. https://
doi.org/10.1016/j.scaman.2013.05.002
Wæraas, A. and J. A. Nielsen (2016), ‘Translation Theory “Translated”: Three Perspectives on
Translation in Organizational Research’, International Journal of Management Reviews, 18
(3): 236–70. https://doi.org/10.1177%2F1086026620953448
Watson, T. (1995), ‘Rhetoric, Discourse and Argument in Organizational Sense
Making: A Reflexive Tale’, Organization Studies, 16 (5): 805–21. https://doi.
org/10.1177/017084069501600503
Wedlin, L. and K. Sahlin (2017), ‘The Imitation and Translation of Management Ideas’,
in R. Greenwood, C. Oliver, T. Lawrence and R. Meyer (eds), The Sage Handbook of
Organisational Institutionalism, 102–27, London: Sage Publications.
Westney, E. and R. Piekkari (2020), ‘Reversing the Translation Flow: Moving Organizational
Practices from Japan to the U.S.’, Journal of Management Studies, 57 (1): 57–86. https://doi.
org/10.1177/0170840610372581
Whetten, D. A., T. Felin and B. G. King (2009), ‘The Practice of Theory Borrowing in
Organizational Studies: Current Issues and Future Directions’, Journal of Management, 20
(10): 537–63.
Wilmot, N. and S. Tietze (forthcoming), ‘Englishization and the Politics of Translation’, Critical
Perspectives on International Business.
Xian, H. (2008), ‘Lost in Translation? Language, Culture and the Roles of Translator in Cross-
cultural Management Research’, Qualitative Research in Organizations and Management: An
International Journal, 3 (3): 231–45. https://doi.org/10.1108/17465640810920304
140
PART III
Translation in the
Humanities
142
CHAPTER EIGHT
Literary Translation in
Electronic Literature and
Digital Humanities
CHRIS TANASESCU AND RALUCA TANASESCU
This chapter explores to what extent and in what ways, specifically, translation in
electronic literature and digital literary studies (DLS) is or can be perceived as being
alternative to established literary translation theory and practice. The two main axes
along which we will measure the specificity of such translation are:
1. Literature – the electronic genre, as well as computationally processed, analysed,
and (re)configured literature; and
2. Technology – artificial intelligence and machine learning algorithms, both in media-
inflected frameworks and environments pertaining to the digital, the Web and
mathematical modelling.
The numerous particular features of literary translation in electronic literature and
DLS problematize the limited definitions it customarily receives within the confines of
its parent field. In translation studies, literary translation is defined as all that is opposed
to free or literal translation, which has an aesthetic effect (Hermans 2007), and that is
temporally and spatially distanced from its source text (Boase-Beier et al. 2014). The
binary of a literary ‘original’ by an author pertaining to another culture and, usually, to
another time period, of which another person, a translator, produces a literary translation
decidedly shapes cultural transfers via translation. According to Dirk Delabastita, another
characteristic of literary translation is related to reception and to the ‘afterlives’ of a
literary text, ‘one of the many ways in which a text can “live on” beyond the linguistic and
cultural milieu of its origin and find ever new readerships, thereby releasing or prompting
new meanings in the process’ (2011: 69). Literary translation follows predictable literary
flows, dictated by the global circulation of print books, submitted to patterns of import,
seen as enhancing the status of the target language, and oftentimes analysed in contexts
that are highly dependent on power and cultural identity dynamics.
While the aesthetic effect in e-literature (e-lit) and DLS is still a requirement of literary
text translation, the temporal and spatial distance from a ‘source’ text can be erased and
the afterlife of a text is oftentimes dictated by the author of the ‘original’ text, who may
also act as the translator. Even when such distances are present and enacted by translation
(see, for instance, the case of Karhio’s translation of Carpenter’s below), in e-lit and
144 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
The second section approaches the issue of literary translation in DH, a transdisciplinary
field that has only recently started to show sustained interest in multilingualism, and, thus,
in translation. For many years since the beginning of the 2000s, literary translation had had
a deeply instrumental purpose, its alternativeness being related to using translation as an
authorship attribution instrument in the work of stylometry scholars, such as Jan Rybicky
(Rybicki and Heydel 2013; Rybicki 2005, 2009, 2012; etc.) and John Burrows (2002).
Except for them, and several of Rybicki’s Polish colleagues working in computational
linguistics, translation was seen either as unnecessary or as lacking proper multilingual
investigation tools and, therefore, was often set aside (Tanasescu 2021). Nevertheless,
the growing global DH community has recently brought the topic of multilingualism
to the fore, and numerous recent advances in (automated) natural language processing
(NLP) have increased the relevance of translation in the field. Our discussion concerns,
in particular, NLP and other algorithmic approaches to literary translation, mainly the
recent growing interest in literary machine translation (MT) and the related issues of post-
editing, human parity and the impact of such approaches on creativity and reception. The
second axis of our frame of reference – technology as artificial intelligence and machine
learning algorithms – will receive more of the focus here, particularly with regard (but
not limited) to NLP. As we will see, NLP-based and other computational approaches
to translation were initially (over a decade ago) significantly targeted at poetry. Since
then, the main focus has been on fiction and on discussing the effectiveness and quality
of MT in the genre, be it done with existing general-use or in-house affordances. And
yet, NLP and other machine learning methods have continued in poetry in a number of
projects (for now singular and avant-garde) that integrate experimental translation into
wider poetry computational analysis and data-science-informed modelling frameworks
that combine automated text close reading with corpus processing.
The conclusion recaps the main fields in which literary translation has a strong
alternative dimension for digital-medium and digital-space-based literature, briefly
revisits the two axes of the propounded frame of reference and their strong (inter)medial
tenure, and reiterates the beyond-translation facets of translation in the relevant areas:
translation of process and transcreation in electronic literature; and genre-geared NLP/
machine-learning-based or human-computer-interaction MT in DH. We conclude that
it is vital for translation studies to also consider literary translation as an intermedial
companion and a technological model of an original, not only a spatially and temporally
distanced emulation or recreation of an original piece of literature.
Luís Lucas Pereira, each of these works explored for the ways in which they internalized
the four dimensions of e-lit translation into their own compositional strategies.
It is true, though, that translation of and in electronic literature (e-lit) was imprinted
by the hybridity of the genre in and of itself – both radically innovative and grounded in
certain (unorthodox) traditions. A digital work, like Cayley’s translation, is an exemplary
illustration of the previously discussed features, as it projects and effaces at the same time
lacunary translations of texts from and into German, French or English. Processualism
and ephemerality are there at their best, as passages that ‘drown in one language’ soon
‘surface in another’ within an ‘iterative, procedural “movement” from one language to
another’ (Cayley n.d.). But Cayley’s translation is also illustrative of certain relevant
theoretical developments of the concept of translation per se in e-lit. Cayley speaks about
the ‘translation of process’ as he argues that technics have always been an integral part of
reading and writing and, therefore, translation involves reading-as-(re-)engineering, and
inevitably involves a production of technics associated with the target language that will
accomplish the rendition of the processes involved in the source one. As Katherine N.
Hayles notes in relation to Cayley’s translation, ‘the atomistic structures of computer and
human languages are the correlated microlevels that ensure translatability’ (2008: 149) – a
view that submits language to the intermediating agency of the computer and that is
essentially opposed to Walter Benjamin’s conception, widely cited in translation studies,
that the signifying power of things is related to the divine. His term ‘grammalepsy’, on
the other hand, refers to the ‘translation’ of otherwise meaningless gestures into language,
an experience typical of ‘language animals’ and useful for differentiating between natural
and machine languages, between code and text, and between (underlying generative)
program and (generated digital) literary work (or, in Cayley’s terms, ‘digital language
art’) (Cayley 2018b).
Translation of, and in, e-lit is generally problematized in relation to code/coding,
(digital) media and (factual/co-authorial) interactivity. Yet there are, based on that,
certain concepts, approaches and aspects feeding into theory and practice that are more
relevant to certain authors and practitioners than to others. The dimensions central to
John Cayley’s vision, for instance, are temporality and process, as fundamental to e-lit
and, consequently, also to translation in the field. Unlike traditional literary studies, but
very much like film studies, e-lit works/texts cannot but be really understood as ‘pieces
in time’, just like music and film, and actually, moreover, as works with no (possible)
definitive edition (Cayley 2018b: 10). Translation, in consequence, is always translation
of/as process, while translation in a more extrapolated sense is at the very core of e-lit
composition as ‘translation of time into space’ (Cayley 2018b: 107). Cayley’s work
represents a most vivid illustration of such poetics, with texts going back and forth
between versions in three languages (English, French and German) and complexly
evolving visually as parts and variable instantiations of those translations emerge on the
screen or are submerged in the background according to the reader’s interaction with it,
and to Cayley’s ‘ambient poetics’ (2018b: 10). The alternative dimension of such a work
does not necessarily reside in how the translation is carried out (as pre-existing versions
in the three languages are part of the code’s input)2 but in foregrounding its temporal
and evolutive quality, its multilingualism and its interactivity, and (as detailed below) its
inextricable embeddedness in the medium.
While, in such a work, Cayley’s long-standing theoretical and practice-based emphasis
on ‘text [algorithmic] generation, translation, and reconfiguration’ is clearly exemplified,
in works such as ‘wine flying: non-linear explorations of a classical Chinese quatrain’,
LITERARY TRANSLATION IN E-LIT AND DH 149
the text (in translation) is already there. Yet, as the title already alludes, the programmed
interface allows exploration (and for the author to make apparent and available to the
reader in an interactive environment) the poem’s ‘rhetorical structures’. The latter are
highlighted by scoring the ‘component words and phrases in alternate orders’ (p. 18).
A more experimental work – ‘Golden Lion’ – combines the translation of a poem (again
from Chinese, as Cayley has a background in Chinese literature) and the translation and
adaptation of a prose work by the Chinese Buddhist monk Fazang (cf. p. 26). Of the three
operations quoted above, reconfiguration is the most salient characteristic here, as the
essay is rearranged in the form of a mesostic,3 and displays highlighted letters that, pieced
together, make up lines of the Chinese poem in translation. ‘The effect is to produce a
commentary on the poem in the words of the essay, where the commentary has the poem
itself embedded within it’ (p. 26).
In discussing other artist-authors’ work, a relevant example given by Cayley is the
one of Francesca Capone and her ‘Primary Source’ (2015), an e-lit translation project
involving augmented reality and done with WordLens. The latter would be fed an image
containing text, and output a ‘translation’ (Cayley’s own quotes around the word –
p. 209 – speaking themselves of the alternativeness of the approach) in the user’s selected
language. Capone had come across an old poetry book in Russian with the title printed
against a grid background on the front cover, and used WordLens to translate that title.
The app did translate the title successfully, and was then ‘confused’ by the grid, which
it also started ‘translating’ into shifting English versions, thus, ‘produc[ing] an animated
sequence of textual events’ (Cayley 2018b: 209), also impacted by slight movements or
changes of focus and light. Translation, in this case, is indeed informed by augmented
reality, though it also involves the machine itself in deciphering a multiplicity of literal
levels in the ‘original’, ‘finding language-symbolic “differences” where we do not’ (Cayley
2018b: 209). It, thus, helps to uncover ‘poetry that underlies [the original’s] poetry’ and,
moreover, becomes instrumental in the artist’s own creative endeavour as an ‘animated
engagement with the book as poetry’ (Cayley 2018b: 209) Such translation falls, in
Cayley’s terms, under ‘reconfiguration’ and ‘transfiguration’, and it does so in a politically
charged way, as it also speaks to contemporary artists’ precarity and the impact of giant
corporation policies on arts, culture and the human condition more broadly. After being
acquired by Google and subsequently incorporated into Google Translate, WordLens lost
its visual and augmented reality component, which rendered ‘reconfigurationist’ Capone’s
‘Primary Source’ historical before even being publicly exhibited. While a project like
‘Primary Source’ discovered complexities in a surface rendered richer and variable by
augmented reality applications, ‘complex surfaces’ are, in and of themselves, a central
concept of Cayley’s poetics. Although the topic is beyond the scope of this chapter, suffice
it to say that, as already hinted above while commenting on the work titled ‘translation’,
such surfaces ‘for [digital] writing’ are both materially and conceptually complex, and
also ‘intrinsically temporal’, revealing time as conceivably the most salient and yet most
neglected feature of textuality (cf., for instance Cayley 2018b: 80). In a work of e-lit,
the complex surface is the medium of the interface text, that is, the text outputted by
the underlying code that ‘reconceals itself by generating a complex surface “over” itself’
(Cayley 2018b: 96).
Not only e-lit criticism but translation studies, as well, likely needs to take into
account, and account for, such complexities. If literature has traditionally indeed been, as
established in recent criticism (Kirschenbaum 2016), about the very surface or material
support of its own inscription, in e-lit, writing involves writing (as in coding) the surface
150 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
as well (Tanasescu and Tanasescu forthcoming). Yet, the complexity may be even more
intricate than that: the code obscuring itself under the surface it generates may have
its own various layers or ‘surfaces’, such as the code that generates, in Cayley’s terms,
the ‘interface text’, and also the code (or, rather, software and hardware together)
programming and supporting that very interface. All of these are essential parts of what a
work of e-lit is, and they have, indeed, entered themselves in the focus of e-lit translation
criticism and practice, termed as either the technical side, or the interface, or the medium
(or all of the above) of that particular work.
In ‘Translation, transmutation, transmediation, and transmission in TRANS.MISSION
[A.DIALOGUE]’, a publication dating back to 2014 and based on a presentation from
2012, J. R. Carpenter (Carpenter 2012 and Carpenter 2014) anticipates, as the title
indicates right away, some of the terms used by Mencía et al., although the scope,
angle and context are different. Presented initially as a talk at Translating E-Literature,
University Paris 8, in 2012, the critical article/poetics statement/philological excursus
discusses one of Carpenter’s own works put together as the translation (or as the author
states it, a ‘hack’) of another work, Nick Montfort’s ‘The Two’, in its turn, a translation
from Python into JavaScript of ‘story2.py’, also by Carpenter (2012). The work – TRANS.
MISSION [A.DIALOGUE] – is more than the translation of a (transcodal) translation;
it is, as Cayley would put it, a translation of process and, moreover, a translation of
a process … of translation. By means of an avalanche of subtle etymological-literary
speculations, Carpenter outlines the multifariousness of e-lit translation in relation to
code, natural language, ideology and media. Alternativeness ranges, therefore, from
translating the code for pragmatic medium-related reasons – transferring the e-lit work
to web browsers and, thus, translating it into ‘performance’, that is, ‘text … performed
by the browser’ (Carpenter 2014) – to literary translation into other languages that
involve code adjustment, so that grammatical and syntactical patterns still ensure the
ideological ‘trans-mission’ (particularly as relevant to genre),4 to translation as ‘hack’, as
transformation of ‘source code into a code medium of sorts’ (Carpenter 2014). Of course,
here ‘medium’ refers to (re)mediation (or, as Carpenter puts it, ‘transmediation’) and (re)
signification, but acquires a psychic connotation as well – ‘media haunted by generations
of past usage’ (Carpenter 2014) – thus, tossing in a traditional literary allusion,5 now
complicated by computation and digital intermediality.
Haunting has complex meaning and implications in Carpenter’s view on translation,
seen not as a unidirectional, univocally defined or definit(iv)e-output-based process.
Translation is, rather, a state of being involving a transitional ontology and migrant
mediality, going back and forth asymmetrically and asynchronously between languages,
space/times and interfaces. Transmediation, thus, becomes a logical alternative to the
rather teleological ‘remediation’ implying – to Carpenter’s ear – a somewhat inexorable
transition from print to digital (cf. Carpenter 2021: 6).6 In writing about ‘Entre Ville’,
the author makes a statement that may refer very well to her entire body of work: ‘Trans-
seems a more specific prefix than re- as it evokes the in-between parts of this process, and
-inter would also effectively encompass the multi-lingual multi-media ecology referred to
by this body of work’ (Carpenter 2021: 6). In the context, Carpenter does draw on the
arguably easily affordable metaphor of code running or interface display as translation – ‘[a]
text displayed on a computer screen is always already a text in translation’ (p. 3); ‘each
output is but one possible translation of its source code’ (Carpenter 2021: 66) – but does
so based on her own long-standing practice and compellingly articulate poetics. Her
page-based poems, for instance, are specifically typeset to reflect the source code of the
LITERARY TRANSLATION IN E-LIT AND DH 151
(possible) digital works they echo or approximate in print. Apparently minor details,
such as straight quotes (versus curly ones) or square brackets on the page, actually hark
back to the computational syntax informing the same poem in its (at times hypothetical)
digital versions and, thus, marking its transmedial elusiveness and fundamental in-
betweenness. Intermedial transition becomes, therefore, not the conversion of something
into something else but translation as/at the very core of the compositional process.
This allows for framing a print collection of poems, such as ‘An Ocean of Static’ (not
without irony), rather as a ‘transitional object’ than a ‘work in translation’ (Carpenter
2021: 8), an object illustrative of a poetics grounded in ‘[a] broad understanding of
translation – between media, languages, and presentation contexts – [that] has informed
the compositional process of this work’ (Carpenter 2021: 11).
Just as in an ongoing and expanding coding iteration, Carpenter’s translational
composition attracts further translation by other practitioners and practice-based
researchers. At the second Translating E-Literature conference at University of Paris 8
in 2020 (following the above mentioned 2012 conference, held at the same university),7
poet, critic and academic Anne Karhio presented a paper on translating Carpenter into
Finnish: ‘Finnishing it: Translating J. R. Carpenter’s TRANS.MISSION[A.DIALOGUE]’
(2020). Karhio tackles the topic the same way she approached translating the work,
as a code-language-culture continuum. While explicitly not arguing against Cayley’s
proverbial statement (and article title) that ‘the code is not the text (unless it is the text)’
(Cayley 2002), Karhio offers a strong caveat: in translating e-lit the former has to be
addressed as closely related to, if not an inherent part of, the latter (cf. Karhio 2020). And
the presentation in and of itself is a strong argument in that direction, as the translator
explains and exemplifies the adjustments she made on the JavaScript code in order to
make the output text make sense in Finnish, a language, she strongly argues, that is so
different from English on multiple levels. Karhio renders her account even more relevant
by adding a comparative dimension to it and discussing Ariane Savoie’s translation of the
same work into French. While the latter could easily render, for instance (if not augment),
the gender-relevant ‘[trans]mission’ of the original, the Finnish version had to resort to
certain ingenious solutions for that. Yet, the strongly alternative aspect of the translation
resides in the ways in which Karhio rendered the geographical, geopolitical and historical-
technological elements. While the French version, even if adapted to Francophone North
American and Quebecois culture, still shares with the English a transatlantic colonial
ethos, Karhio transferred – or rather computationally and linguistically translated – the
setting to Finland, the Baltic Sea and its Scandinavian-Russian historical and cultural
crossroads (more circumscribed to that part of Europe, but not without ties to the Atlantic
and North America either). In the process, she unearths a compelling alternative history
of the invention of radio, by a Russian (and not by Marconi), with some of the first
communications involving Finland and its nineteenth-century weather and navigation
conditions, which she had the code insert into the output text, rather than preserving the
truncated English radio messages (from roughly the same period) in the original.
‘Transcoding’ – the term borrowed explicitly by Karhio from Mencía et al. to refer to,
for instance, her own translation – has nowadays, therefore, become a necessary, if not
indispensable, component of arguably any e-lit translation. Philippe Bootz, a foundational
name in e-lit, gave a talk at the same conference precisely on transcoding as a possible
‘extension of translation’ (2020). ‘Extension’ in this case refers to a more comprehensive
approach that would account for the complexity and multilayeredness of a work of
e-lit, including its technological context, from a ‘meta-reading’ perspective englobing
152 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
the author-text (texte-auteur, the underlying code and algorithms and compositional
strategies) and visible-text (texte-à-voir, displayed output) (Bootz 2020). This globalizing
view has been Bootz’s trademark for decades and gravitates around his concept of the
‘dispositif’ (cf. for instance Bootz 2004 for perhaps the most pertinent presentation of the
model in English). The dispositif of the work of e-lit ‘encompasses all the technological
artifacts that participate in the transformation and all the human actors in contact, in
one way or another, with the main communication axis’ (2020), and although it has
usually been translated as ‘device’, it obviously also involves more complex meanings and
multiple connotations. Most importantly, perhaps, as stated in the above quote, it refers
to an ensemble of technologies, humans, interfaces and media, just as the French word
can also refer to (military) positions, and thus to complexes of personnel, equipment,
structures (hierarchical and/or architectural) and ([re]arranged) topography.
Such a complex model allows for a more refined and convoluted vision on e-lit
and, consequently, on translation. A notable distinction is the one between program
and ‘technological context’, particularly when going beyond the textual paradigm (and
specifically the cybertextual one). Having done pioneering work in animation and animated
poetry, Bootz, as early as the 1980s, stumbled on an intriguing phenomenon, namely that
the same program would produce different animations in different technological settings.
This feature, not apparent in text generators, led him to the conclusion that ‘the real digital
dispositif has a fundamental property that cybertext does not deal with: lability’ (Bootz
2020). That ‘technological fact’ emerged from the dependence of a program’s output on
the specific technology and was, since impacting meaning as well, also accompanied by
‘semiotic lability’ (Bootz 2020).
Lability, argues Bootz, is ‘neither noise nor deterioration’ but ‘transformation’ (Bootz
2020) and the main challenge it poses in translation is which state of the output or texte-à-
voir to pick. The solution advanced by Bootz, audacious and yet consistent with his overall
poetics, is to replace the traditional translation paradigm – original, [human] translator,
translation – with one ready to deal with, and account for, the complexity of the e-lit
dispositif, and therefore a translational dispositif in its own right: the ‘reading machine’
(Bootz 2020). A reading machine is both a ‘secondary discourse’ and a digital or video
production that ‘reconstructs’ the multiple (some of which non-apparent) dimensions of
the e-lit work as unearthed by a meta-reading of it. Transcreation is once again present
and explicitly invoked by the poet-critic, as the translation (informed by transcoding)
coming out of a reading machine is not a version of the original but a work in its own
right, similar, for instance, to book-to-movie adaptations. Such ‘procedural model’ will
have the reading machine extract from the original certain (possibly overlapping) lexias
(Roland Barthes’s term referring to ‘blocks of signification’ and ‘units of reading’ (1970:
13), which Bootz sees as involving ‘braids’ (tresses) from the texte-auteur and ‘snatches’
(bribes) of the texte-à-voir (2020). And, as there is no obligatory functional tie-in between
the braids and snatches featured in a certain meta-reading, Bootz’s model marks another
departure from the traditional paradigm when he, consequently, states that there is no
need for all those components and ‘sign spaces’ to be brought together into one single
object (Barthes 1970). We read Bootz’s reading machines, again, as dispositifs, since,
although machinic, they imply the involvement of humans and, moreover, they help to
instantiate a certain meta-reading done by certain human reader(s). There is a human-
computer imbrication informing Bootz’s view that, quite remarkably, posits translation as
a three-fold operation involving algorithmic transcoding, culturally or subjectively located
meta-reading, and technological indeterminacy, unpredictability or even erraticism
(‘lability’ in the author’s terms).
LITERARY TRANSLATION IN E-LIT AND DH 153
Moses generates a target-language lattice with paths scored by probabilities, which are
then filtered through ‘a strict, single-path, deterministic iambic pentameter acceptor’
(Greene et al. 2010: 529). The model has access to previous translations of the work at
hand, which it can sample and mix and match according with its own parameters, and that
is part of the reason why, for instance, the introductory tercets of the two translations of
Dante’s ‘Comedy’ they presented sound convincing in English (Greene et al. 2010: 530).
In their very useful literature review, Toral and Way (2015) list only one more
contribution besides the ones above, to poetry MT (that actually discusses both prose
and poetry). Jones and Irvine (2013), unlike the above-referenced researchers, do not
so much create a computational model and then evaluate its performance in prevailingly
quantitative computer-science-based terms, but, concurring with a more general literary
MT trend that was emerging back then and continues to this day (see below), use MT and
professional human translation for quantitative comparisons and reflections on the validity
and prospects of the former within a human-computer interaction and translation studies
framework instead. For French-to-English translation, Jones and Irvine put together their
own machine translator, by assembling a number of state-of-the-art resources, including
the Hansard data (over 8 million parallel lines of text taken from the proceedings of the
Canadian parliament) and the already mentioned Moses system. The comparison of the
translations thus obtained of an excerpt from Camus’s L’Etranger and a poem by Yves
Bonnefoy, on the one hand, and published professional literary translations (alongside
Google Translate renditions) of the same texts, on the other, occasions a number of
translation-studies-relevant conclusions. Although the authors agree with Michael Cronin
that MT may render the ‘labour of translation’ invisible (cited in Jones and Irvine 2013:
100), they adapt Lawrence Venuti’s notion of translator’s visibility (1995) for MT as
well. Although, in Venuti’s terms, disfluency and/or foreignization can ethically make
the [human] translator visible, the former can make the machine visible as well (as
encountering statistical and linguistic difficulties resulting in disfluency), while the latter
does not yet make sense for MT: machines cannot foreignize and MT remains, therefore,
for now, ethnocentric (Jones and Irvine 2013: 100).
Antonio Toral and Andy Way – particularly, Toral himself – are remarkably representative
of the above-mentioned trend of assessing the emergent role of MT in translation studies,
specifically in a human-computer-interaction context. Toral and Way (2015) provide an
update on the state of affairs regarding translation into English of Camus’s L’Étranger,
and conclude that MT results have increased significantly in just two years. They bring to
the table two other comparative long-standing approaches: translation between closely
related languages, and human parity.11 The former involves adding Italian as target
language for Camus’s novel and comparing the results to the English translation, and the
latter evaluates the quality of output by comparing it to human professional translation
(and also having native speakers compare the machine and human translations). As this
research was informed by previous experiments (Toral and Way 2014) with in-house
novel MT run on another closely related couple of languages, Spanish and Catalan, also
with promising performance (revisited for evaluation with automatic metrics in Toral and
Way 2015), the authors assuredly herald that the ‘[o]pportunity is ripe for the use of MT’
in literary translation (Toral and Way 2015: 247).
Although, in these earlier publications, Toral and Way were more inclined to envisage
interactive MT rather than post-editing MT for the future of literary translation, more
recent contributions focus on the qualitative and quantitative specifics of post-editing
efforts (Toral et al. 2018) and the impact of post-editing on creativity and the reading
156 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
experience (Guerberof-Arenas and Toral 2020). Relevantly enough, but perhaps not
surprisingly so, after running a survey involving eighty-eight readers as part of the latter
study, the conclusions were that human literary translation is still highest in creativity and
narrative engagement, while post-edited MT ranked ‘marginally higher in enjoyment’
(Guerberof-Arenas and Toral 2020: 1, 20, 24) and statistically quite close to human
translation in all other surveyed aspects, such as narrative engagement and translation
reception. MT ranked generally lower, which occasioned an argument in favour of
creativity and, implicitly, human-computer interaction-based literary translation. In
such contributions, the alternativeness of MT has gone full circle, serving now best
for foregrounding the importance and specificity of the human element within a wider
human-computer-interaction framework, and specifically literary post-edited MT or, at
times, even by contrast to MT. The panel ‘Translation Technologies for Creative-Text
Translation’, held at the 9th Congress of the European Society for Translation Studies in
Stellenbosch (South Africa), featured a remarkable presentation in that respect – on the
translator’s voice in MT, later on developed by the authors into a journal article (Kenny
and Winters 2020). English-to-German literary translator Hans-Christian Oeser was
involved in an experiment post-editing the MT of a novel he had previously translated
himself, and making notes in the process. The authors assess that the translator’s voice
comes across as diminished even in the post-edited MTs, compared to the initial published
translation under scrutiny (an excerpt from Oeser and Orth-Guttmann’s German edition
of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Beautiful and Damned). It nevertheless peremptorily remerges
in the notes on the experiment – an opportunity for the authors to argue in favour of
designing studies and experiments in MT with a focus on human translators and their
voice and to critically address long-standing translation studies conundrums, such as the
already mentioned translator’s visibility (Kenny and Winters 2020).
One may naturally wonder, why this shift in focus, from poetry a decade ago to fiction
of the past few years and, simultaneously, from in-house NLP modelling to MT pipelines?
As mentioned above, the ambitious and, at times, enthusiastic early contributions to
computational poetry translation had to deal, in addition to the factual interlingual
rendition, with genre-related issues and they did so in a more or less subtle and/or
effective fashion. For fiction, by comparison, since the genre-relevant formal aspects are
not always that complex and unavoidable, the practitioners could more easily focus on
the actual linguistic aspect (and that is why significant early work was done in literary
translation between closely related languages) and on post-editing (which dramatically
evolved into critically posing questions related to human-computer interaction and the
place/voice/visibility of the human in MT). In poetry, taking further steps could only be
done solidly after or while fully addressing the issue of genre-relevant and formal feature
machine learning modelling.
It is, therefore, not for no reason that the very few present-day projects in computational
poetry translation are based on more comprehensive – at times ‘holistic’ (cf. Tanasescu
and Tanasescu forthcoming and, also, Tanasescu et al. 2020) – underlying approaches
in poetry computational analysis. In such DH-informed initiatives, literary translation
involves the use of NLP and other computational methods – not so much for designing
or adjusting MT affordances (like the above-mentioned examples) but for engineering
specific literary work/corpus-attuned models and strategies. These approaches – given
their poetry corpus focus – usually also combine, hybridize or (re)process literary works
and/or their human translations with computational procedures targeting their actual
linguistic level, as well as other extralinguistic12 features that result from tackling them as
data, as data science objects.
LITERARY TRANSLATION IN E-LIT AND DH 157
In Margento’s bilingual anthology (in English and Romanian translation) ‘US’ Poets
Foreign Poets (2018), for example, the model deployed was the network graph,13 and
the translational and editing strategies were informed by graph theory concepts and
applications. The translation was, consequently, carried out on several levels. First, the
translation of an initial US14 page-based and digital poetry corpus into network graphs;
second, translation within and across the above-mentioned subgenres (traditional/‘page
poetry’ and digital); third, the translation of the algorithms that had generated the
‘originals’ into algorithms for composing, generating or assembling the ‘translations’; and,
finally, translation as automated expansion of the networked corpus, so that it gradually
includes more and more poems sharing certain remarkable features. The graph expansion
marked the transition from ‘US’ to ‘us’, poets and translators beyond any borders or
boundaries, thus channelling into the anthology’s last section, poems ranging from
ancient Babylonian (in English translation) to multilingual-Romanian (by Șand, Foarță),
to more e-lit. The critical reception included DH author Johanna Drucker’s reflections on
computation and/as composition (Sondheim et al. 2019) and reactions from e-lit critics
and practitioners, such as Christopher Funkhouser (Margento 2019) and John Cayley
(Sondheim et al. 2019). The former commented on the ‘[a]lgorithmic, linguistic, and
graphical expansion’ that ‘both transcreate[s] and more literally translate[s] the contents
of a collection of writing’ (Margento 2019), while the latter highlights the translation
as process performed within a book, and ‘helping to remove a few of the misdirected,
critically, and theoretically immaterial distinctions and barriers that more conventional
anthologies maintain’ (Sondheim et al. 2019).
In another very recent project (Murat et al. 2021), funded by Arts Council England
and commemorating the 2000th anniversary of Ovid’s passing as an exile among the
tribes (and local kings) of Getae on the Black Sea coast of Dacia (present-day Romania),
human-computer interaction-informed translation combines and converges with human
translation in a number of respects. An original English poem sampling, commenting on
and biographically interacting with Christopher Marlowe and John Dryden’s translations
of Ovid, which, in its turn, only sampled in the collection, is accompanied by its entire
literary human translation into Romanian, and also by two computational translations
(into English and Romanian). The latter were developed by mixing each section of the
original with poems, rock lyrics, literary translations, and academic articles or essays
from other authors (the last section, for instance, being submerged in a critical mass of
women’s writing) and then feeding the resulting texts to a topic modelling algorithm.
The translation involved progressively picking words, phrases, lines of verse and, finally,
stanzas probabilistically neighbouring the ones in the original within the topic modelling
output and arranging them graphically as conglomerates of countless possible translations
in both languages.
CONCLUSION
The alternativeness of literary translation in e-lit and DH lies in the way it relates to
literature, technology and media, as well as in the role it plays within these fields. Unlike
in translation studies, where it is traditionally opposed to literal translation, associated
with creative texts and seen in a subordinate relation to an original, regardless of the
degree of creativeness and originality involved, literary translation in the wider context
of digitality is deeply transforming and renewing – a condition for the process of writing.
Translation in and of e-lit is intimately related to the process of creation itself: first, as
a necessary limitation for creative authors, one that offers their idea ‘a home ground’
158 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
(Matthews 1997) – because one is limited by what language can say, and there is only
so much that a language can say; and second, as a process that limits what one wants
to say, but does so creatively, since the result may not have been anticipated, given the
game-like rules of translation: ‘we find ourselves doing and saying things we would never
have imagined otherwise, things that often turn out to be exactly what we need to reach
our goal’ (Matthews 1997). In writing e-lit, translation is ‘mechanism, media, technique,
and transmission’ (Mitchell and Raley 2018), thus, far from the ‘fakery, treason, and
inauthenticity’ (Mitchell and Raley 2018) that are often referenced in relation to literary
translation. The translation of unstable digital literary texts (an instability of form and
content, text interacting with other semiotic systems) takes into account the complexity
of the medium and of the process as shaped by the medium and is, therefore, spatially
and temporally connected to its matrix. In DH, on the other hand, the position of
literary translation varies widely, from a purely instrumental and utilitarian role, to
testing the technological challenges of MT, to an unparalleled potential for experimental
translation, experimental writing and transcreation presented by various computational
algorithms and tools. The latter direction positions translations in relation to the two
axes announced at the beginning of our chapter – literature and technology – and favours
none in particular.
However alternative and promisingly creative, the evolution of literary translation
in e-lit and DH depends to a very large extent on the development of multilingual
computational algorithms. If globalization entailed the primacy of English as a lingua
franca in the global circulation of goods, more recently the growing multilingualism of
the internet and the expanding interest in the decolonization of e-lit and of DH have
called for sustained multilingual work, both in creative writing and in research. The
future of literary translation in digital environments and in digital scholarship will, thus,
be reshaped by such efforts in the following years. Furthermore, if poetry has been among
the preferred genres in e-lit, novels have been the one of choice in DLS. Further focus on
formerly underexploited literary genres and forms is, thus, bound to be very fruitful for
translation in general, and for literary translation in particular.
No matter how many the pitfalls of technology in relation to handling literature via
translation, we hope we showed that they are outnumbered by an immense creative
potential, which makes translation not a subaltern of an original but a companion and a
deeply humanistic model that is capable of influencing the course of technology. On the
one hand, translation as an intermedial and processual companion further problematizes
long-standing issues in translation studies related to translation as a second-rate text, to
translators as secondary agents and to the agency of the digital medium in the Latourian
sense (1994), and beyond. Just as we talk today about digitized (remediated) versus born-
digital texts, the examples offered in this chapter raise the issue of translation-suitable
originals, thus rendering the original versus translation binarism even more problematic.
On the other hand, literary texts, as the last frontier of MT or machine learning, have
already proven their usefulness in relation to technological modelling: certain MT tools
have been specially designed for the purpose of translating a specific literary form between
closely related languages; concepts imported from graph theory or other mathematical or
computer science subjects have been developed from scratch as technological models and
are, meanwhile, further deployable in other (non-literary) applications. We suggest that
the game-changing role of such translations should not go unnoticed.
The alternativeness of literary translation in e-lit and DLS is, for now, enabled by the
way in which translation studies as a discipline thinks about translation as prevalently
print-based. Translation is bound to keep testing the digital-human vulnerabilities
LITERARY TRANSLATION IN E-LIT AND DH 159
of our existence for the foreseeable future. Nevertheless, translation studies should
not see digitality as only remotely connected, at best, but as expanding the field’s
interdisciplinarity and balancing out the invisibility and imitation traditionally seen as
definitory of translators and translated texts.
NOTES
1 The authors presented the concept as extending from the levels of language to the levels
of code and media while being rooted in forerunners such as Roman Jakobson, Walter
Benjamin and Oulipo.
2 Further information related to the input text, code and outputs can be accessed at http://
www.shadoof.net/in/translation.html.
3 A poetic form notably established by John Cage and Jackson Mac Low, and then further
practiced in e-lit by authors such as mIEKAL aND (1998).
4 Carpenter also references existing translations of both ‘story2.py’ and ‘The Two’ into
French, Spanish and Russian (Carpenter 2012).
5 The concept of haunting/(being) haunted (in/by) translation has a long literary history;
in contemporary poetry, for instance, see Jerome Rothenberg’s notion and practice of
‘writing through’ (Rothenberg 2004), and his definition of translation as writing with other
[dead] people’s words. Also, on the relationship between new media and the dead, see
Lagerkvist (2019).
6 We had the opportunity, courtesy of the author, to read this article before it was published
in Hybrid, and therefore we cite the page numbers in the manuscript, from 1 to 17.
7 Carpenter herself gave a talk at Translating E-Literature 2020 on her digital ‘hydro-
graphic novel’, The Pleasure of the Coast, which she framed in the meanwhile established
terms of Mencía et al. (2018), as an instance of ‘transcreation as a compositional process’
(Carpenter 2020).
8 Most notably Charles O. Hartman (1996 and 2005) and Jim Carpenter (2004).
9 At times masquerading as mainstream literature contributed to ‘respectable’ literary
journals, and consequently stirring significant dustups when ‘unmasked’. See, for instance,
most recently, Rettberg (2019) and Klobucar (2021), who mention Stephen McLaughlin’s
and Jim Carpenter’s controversial poetic experiment of 2008, in which they used the
fictional poet Erica T. Carter, actually a ‘writing machine’, to generate the first issue of a
fictional poetry e-journal (Issue 1: Fall 2008) and to collect nearly 4,000 original works by
a number of established poets.
10 Cf., for instance, Mary Kinzie (1999). The authors’ own qualitative assessment is itself
not always the best informed in terms of English prosody; that the Shakespearean line,
‘The perfect ceremony of love’s rite’, for instance, is scanned by the algorithm as bearing a
stress on ‘love’s’ and another one on ‘rite’ (mistakenly read by the machine as having two
syllables) is blamed by the authors on the confusion between loves and love’s, and not on
the incapacity of the algorithm to scan two unstressed syllables followed by two stressed
ones as the possible irregular equivalent of two iambic feet (cf. Baker 1996).
11 Toral and his collaborators have, meanwhile, critically reassessed claims of human parity
and superhuman translation, refuting most of them, for instance, for the translation
directions of the WMT2019 shared task (Läubli et al. 2020).
160 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
REFERENCES
And, M. (1998), Mesostics for Dick Higgins, West Lima, WI: Xexoxial Editions.
Baetens, J. (2018), ‘Creating New Constraints: Toward a Theory of Writing as Digital
Translation’, Electronic Book Review, 1 July. Available online: http://bit.ly/2HA9vlZ
Baetens, J. and J. Van Looy (2008), ‘E-Poetry between Image and Performance: A Cultural
Analysis’, E-Media Studies, 1 (1). https://doi.org/10.1349/PS1.1938–6060.A.288
Baker, D. (ed.) (1996), Meter in English. A Critical Engagement, Fayetteville, AR: University of
Arkansas Press.
Barthes, R. (1970), S/Z, Paris: Éditions du Seuil.
Boase-Beier, J., A. Fawcett and P. Wilson (eds) (2014), Literary Translation: Redrawing the
Boundaries, New York: Springer.
Bootz, P. (2010), ‘der/die leser; reader/readers’, in F. W. Block, C. Heibach and K. Wentz (eds),
P0es1s. Asthetik digitaler Poesie, The Aesthetics of Digital Poetry, 93–121, Ostfildern: Hatje
Cantz Verlag.
Bootz, P. (2020), ‘Does the Digital Have to Expand Translation?’ Traduire la littérature
numérique?/Translating e-litterature? conference, Université Paris 8, unpublished.
Bootz, P. and C. Funkhouser (2014), ‘Combinatory and Algorithmic Text Generation’, in
M-L. Ryan, L. Emerson and B. J. Robertson (eds), The Johns Hopkins Guide to Digital
Media, 83–4, Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins Press.
Burrows, J. F. (2002), ‘The Englishing of Juvenal: Computational Stylistics and Translated
Texts’, Style, 36 (4), Resources in Stylistics and Literary Analysis (Winter 2002): 677–98.
Capone, F. (2015), Primary Source. Available online: https://www.francescacapone.com/
primarysource
Carpenter, J. (2004), Erica T. Carter: The Collected Works, Slought Foundation. Available
online: https://elmcip.net/creative-work/erica-t-carter-collected-works
Carpenter, J. R. (2012), ‘Translation, Transmutation, Transmediation and Transmission in
TRANS.MISSION [A.DIALOGUE]’, Presentation at Translating E-Literature, Université of
Paris 8 Vincennes-Saint-Denis, 12–14 June 2012. Abstract available online: http://elmcip.
net/node/4245
Carpenter, J. R. (2014), ‘Translation, Transmutation, Transmediation, and Transmission in
TRANS.MISSION [A.DIALOGUE]’, in Traduire L’hypermédia/L’hypermedia et le traduire.
Laboratoire NT2’S e-journal, no. 7. Available online: http://nt2.uqam.ca/en/cahiers-virtuels/
article/translation-transmutation-transmediation-and-transmission-transmission
Carpenter, J. R. (2020), ‘Position Doubtful: Transcreation as a Compositional Process’, in
The Pleasure of the Coast’, Traduire la littérature numérique?/Translating e-literature?
conference, Université Paris 8, unpublished.
Carpenter, J. R. (2021), ‘Straight Quotes, Square Brackets: Page-Based Poetics Inflected with
the Syntax and Grammar of Code Languages’, Hybrid, 7 (January). Available online: https://
hybrid.univ-paris8.fr/lodel/
LITERARY TRANSLATION IN E-LIT AND DH 161
https://eliterature.org/
Jones, R. and A. Irvine (2013), ‘The (Un)faithful Machine Translator’, in P. Lendvai and
K. Zervanou (eds), Proceedings of the 7th Workshop on Language Technology for Cultural
Heritage, Social Sciences, and Humanities, 96–101, Sofia: Association for Computational
Linguistics.
Karhio, A. (2020), ‘Finnishing It: Translating J. R. Carpenter’s TRANS.MISSION[A.
DIALOGUE]’, Traduire la littérature numérique?/Translating e-litterature? conference,
Université Paris 8, unpublished.
Kinzie, M. (1999), Poet’s Guide to Poetry, Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press.
Kirschenbaum, M. G. (2016), Track Changes: A Literary History of Word Processing,
Cambridge, MA: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press.
Kenny, D. and M. Winters (2020), ‘Machine Translation, Ethics and the Literary Translator’s
Voice’, Translation Spaces, 9 (1): 124–50.
Klobucar, A. (2021), ‘Vagueness Machines: Computational Indeterminacy in the Work of
Jen Bervin and Nick Montfort’, in C. Tanasescu (ed.), Interferences littéraires//literaire
interferenties, 236–56, Vol. 25, special issue on ‘Literature and/as (the) Digital’.
Lagerkvist, A. (2019), ‘The Internet Is Always Awake’, in A. Lagerkvist (ed.), Digital Existence:
Ontology, Ethics and Transcendence in Digital Culture, 189–209, New York: Routledge.
Latour, B. (1994), ‘On Technical Mediation: Philosophy, Sociology, Genealogy’, Common
Knowledge, 3 (2): 29–64.
Läubli, S., S. Castilho, G. Neubig, R. Sennrich, Q. Shen and A. Toral (2020), ‘A Set of
Recommendations for Assessing Human–Machine Parity in Language Translation’, Journal
of Artificial Intelligence Research, 67: 653–72. https://doi.org/10.1613/jair.1.11371
Lialina, O. (1996), My Boyfriend Came Back from the War. Available online: http://
myboyfriendcamebackfromth.ewar.ru/
Marecki, P. and N. Montfort (2017), ‘Renderings: Translating Literary Works in the Digital
Age’, Digital Scholarship in the Humanities, 32 (suppl_1): i84–i91. Available online: https://
academic.oup.com/dsh/article-pdf/32/suppl\_1/i84/17751533/fqx010.pdf
Margento (ed.) (2018), ‘US’ Poets Foreign Poets. A Computationally Assembled Anthology,
Bucharest: Fractalia Press.
Margento (ed.) (C. Funkhouser, M. Mencía, I. Militaru, D. J. Johnston, contributors) (2019),
‘“US” Poets Foreign Poets: A Computationally Assembled Anthology. An Essay’, Asymptote
Journal, January 24. Available online: http://bit.ly/2ZGG109
Matthews, H. (1997), ‘Translation and the Oulipo: The Case of the Persevering Maltese’,
Electronic Book Review, 3 January. Available online: http://electronicbookreview.com/essay/
translation-and-the-oulipo-the-case-of-the-persevering-maltese/
Mencía, M. (2001), Another Kind of Language. Available online: http://www.mariamencia.com/
pages/anotherkindof.html.
Mencía, M. (2016), The Poem That Crossed the Atlantic. Available online: http://winnipeg.
mariamencia.com/?lang=es.
Mencía, M., S. Pold and M. Portela (2018), ‘Electronic Literature Translation: Translation as
Process, Experience and Mediation’, Electronic Book Review, 31 May. Available online:
https://doi.org/10.7273/wa3v-ab22
Mihalache, I. (2021), ‘Human and Non-human Crossover: Translators Partnering with Digital
Tools’, in R. Desjardins, C. Larsonneur and P. Lacour (eds), When Translation Goes Digital:
Case Studies and Critical Reflections, 19–43, London: Palgrave Macmillan.
Mitchell, C. and R. Raley (2018), ‘Translation – Machination’, Amodern, 8. Available online:
https://amodern.net/issues/amodern-8-translation-machination/
LITERARY TRANSLATION IN E-LIT AND DH 163
Translating Friendship
Alternatively through
Disciplines, Epochs
and Cultures
CLAUS EMMECHE
Traditional notions of translation (TN or ‘narrow translation’) have had a primary focus on
text translation and how meaning can be preserved. This chapter employs an alternative
semiotic understanding of translation (TS or ‘semiotic translation’), as suggested by Kobus
Marais, to demonstrate how it can be used to study inter-epoch changes in norm-directed
practices and their conceptualizations, cross-cultural developments and interdisciplinary
translations of concepts used to describe them. Friendship practices and their theoretical
descriptions are used as a case to show the need for alternative understandings of
translation processes. TS occurs not only when texts are taken as signs of complex
phenomena but also when a mode of life and the sociolinguistic practice of one generation
or culture is interpreted and changed by its inheritors. To develop TS as a general and
theoretically more satisfying model, we investigate some of the processes involved in the
inter-epoch conceptualizations and cross-cultural developments of friendship. Claiming
that different friendship studies all contribute to knowledge of some aspects of ‘the
same’ phenomenon demands the possibility of translations of ‘friendship’ as a word,
concept, practice, interpersonal relationship, social bond, ideal, form of love, normative
constraint, power relation or any other terms that have been used to characterize its
phenomenology and dynamics. Analysing TS translations of friendship across epochs
(from Confucius and Aristotle through the following eras, up to modernity), cultures
(worldwide) and languages demonstrates how the perspective of TS helps us grasp ancient
texts, their translations and cross-cultural friendship performances better without forcing
upon the material our late-modern perspectives and norms. It is suggested that frames
(from artificial intelligence and philosophy of science) can be an analytic tool for studying
TS processes. Finally, some challenges to be resolved in further research are outlined.
PRELUDE
I’m happy to have friends I see and interact with. Some of them I’ve known for a long
time, and have followed their doings and lives over decades. A few of them are very close;
they’re persons I think I know well –– their idiosyncrasies, weaknesses, strengths – and
I know they, too, know my strengths and vulnerabilities, but are seldom judgemental
about my faults. I sense they respect and care for me, just as I respect and care for
them. Exchanging stories, frustrations and rumours, sharing experiences, discussing
viewpoints – in this river of interpretations I translate their actions and messages, sense
how they see things, and I’m prompted to reflect on what I like or dislike, and how
I would have reacted in this or that situation. Any interpretation is also a translation, and
not just because of etymology (the Latin interpretari means ‘explain, translate’). Whenever
I address a friend, I translate my question into their world, of which I know a part. I may
slant certain facts, give hints I know they know how to decode and, within these shared
exchanges, we slowly translate and retranslate each other’s experiences.
Where did this kind of friendship come from? How did I learn it? Could the ‘I’ in this
story have belonged to any culture, any time? Is ‘friendship’ just a reification of a very
fuzzy type of relationship that can never be put into a single formula, or is it possible to
trace some translations of this relational mode, not only in my own life but since the very
beginning – and yes, let’s talk about origins – say, when we, hardly yet humans, were
supposed to have descended from the trees to walk out on a dusty savanna, to begin a
social existence of a new kind, slowly building up more civic societies in different parts
of the world? Is there a general story of friendship to be told, translated and retranslated
many times? How can such translations of one form into another actually become
comprehended as a part of the whole story?
INTRODUCTION
The aim here is more to pose questions about different perspectives of translation than
to settle them as answers, and the cases used are meant to focus the discussion. From the
general point of view of semiotics, translation is a relational set of mediational processes of
transferring, interpreting, transforming and preserving (to various degrees and in various
modes) meaning through systems of signs; such processes of sign action and interpretation
are often referred to as semiosis (Peirce CP 5.4842). From this broad perspective, it is easy
to see why a more vernacular sense of translation (sometimes called ‘translation proper’,
but here called ‘narrow translation’, TN) only involves a meaning-preserving interlingual
transformation of a message (as a text in one language transformed into another text
with the same meaning in another language), which is ‘narrow’ and cannot stand alone:
Even ‘traditional’ interlingual text translation can only be understood in all its troubled
and intricate details as being part of semiotic processes that are embedded, enculturated
and embodied in and often across patterns of sociocultural space-time that add more
complexity to the dynamics of translational semiosis than implied by an everyday
understanding of TN. This broader semiotic perspective on translation (generalized
translation semiotically construed, as a technical term, ‘semiotic translation’, TS) opens
inquiries into alternative forms of translational semiosis that takes place in parallel with,
and often directly interacts with, processes of interlingual text translation.3
Thus, understanding TN demands detailed investigations of TS. For instance, when
novels are retranslated, as when a Danish publishing house, in 2019, issued a new
TRANSLATING FRIENDSHIP ALTERNATIVELY 167
debates within the field have shown this dichotomy between universalism and relativism
to be too simplified. We will rather opt for an alternative and empirically open position,
which allows for something to be lost in translation, something to be kept and something
new to be created via translational processes. This suggests that a closer study based on
cases of the semiosis of TS (embedded in intercultural communication and inter-epoch
inheritance and interpretation) would give a more nuanced view, and allow for different
cases to be located at different places in the continuum between ultra-relativism and ultra-
universalism.6
We will first try to schematize the question of alternative translation within the human
sphere (we do not dwell on its biosemiotic dimensions) in its totality across epochs and
cultures, to create a map of transformations via TS that are relevant for friendship as
a word, a phenomenon, a practice and an idea. Then, we will give examples of ways
of filling out this scheme by exploring some of the research that has been done on the
history, philosophy, anthropology, sociology (etc.) of friendship, and, finally, we will
discuss the benefits and limitations of an expanded notion of translation for grasping
friendship through ‘big’ (historical) time and (cultural) space.
FIGURE 9.1 Schematic representation of TN, translation in the narrow sense. Here is a high
focus on the two languages in which the meaning of the translated text (t) is attempted to
be preserved by the translation, but little focus is on the differences and similarities in the
dynamics of cultural practices (symbolized by the rounded rectangles) in which the two texts
come to exist.
TRANSLATING FRIENDSHIP ALTERNATIVELY 169
FIGURE 9.2 (a): TN as interlingual translation as if realized through a purely linguistic process
that aims to preserve the meaning (i0) of a text (t0) translated into another language (t1) so i0 = i1.
(b): TS as alternative or semiotic translation cohering with interpretation and extralingual changes,
involving not just representamens but also the phenomena represented and their interpretants.
Legend: ⅄: a Peircean triadic sign; ·····>: processes of translation; p: a praxis or real-world
phenomenon (e.g. a specific friendship practice) as the object of the sign; t: word, text, discourse
fragments or other information-carrying processes as the representamen of the sign; i: the
meaning effects (new signs, thoughts, actions, conducts, habits), or interpretants, of the sign.
170 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
The very notion of intellectual history, or ‘history of ideas’, invites its study through a
lens of translating through time and place.10 Before exploring the case studies, let us
briefly address some questions raised by a generalized semiotic approach to translating
friendship.
The first question is about the point in human history when friendship became
contingently related to texts. It seems fairly obvious that it was always related to
communication in its widest sense. Friendship among humans may have an evolutionary
prehistory, as testified by the patterns of friendship recently investigated for the great apes
and other species. Such friendships are forms of communicative interactions between
animals forming social ties within smaller groups of conspecifics.11 Friendship in human
societies is likely to have existed from the very beginning of our species, perhaps before
the invention of spoken language, and along with the evolution of parallel forms of
embodied biocommunication. When written language and societal institutions emerged
later on, friendship could be codified by symbolic exchanges of gifts or in texts describing
its normative practices.
A second issue is about the sense in which we can claim that human-specific friendship
patterns ‘translate’ across human societies. Friendship does seem to be a human universal
(there are none or extremely few human cultures with little or no signs of friendship12),
though the expressions of this universal are highly moulded by sociocultural processes,
some of which can have a translational nature. There are ongoing debates in linguistics,
anthropology, history and philosophy about the degree of cross-cultural universality (and
thus, translatability) of friendship. If friendship as a cluster of relational forms has been
with us from the very beginning of our species, a logical implication from an evolutionary
point of view is that translational processes (involving cultural transmission, as well as
transmission of the genetic makeup required to make us sociable) have been involved in
transferring these forms through generations and along routes of migrations.
We may ponder, third, if, and in what sense, patterns of friendship practice could
become translated from one culture or epoch to another. The examples we will see
below support the claim that cross-epochal and cross-cultural translations of friendship
form parts of wider processes of interactions between cultures and languages through
time and place. Historically such processes are interwoven with ‘civilizing’ processes
of socio-economic change in education, manners, public/private borders, transmission
of intangible cultural heritage, state building, and the globalization, hybridization and
pluralization of cultures.13
Fourth, aiming at a TS account of ‘translated friendship’ through sociocultural time
and space, we need to distinguish between three dimensions, all with TS aspects: (a) real
practices (talk and action) of particular friendships between actual agents; (b) a discourse
that influences practices of friendship in a specific (sub)culture, expressed, for instance,
in proverbs, poetry or such television sitcom streams as ‘Friends’ (broadcast by NBC and
depicting the fragility of romantic relationships and the resilient potentials of friendship);
(c) systematic and often edifying discourses, for example, in philosophy, about ideal or
‘best’ friendship. Though these three dimensions can, in an analytic sense, be treated
separately, a likely hypothesis is that, historically, they came into being through vast
processes of TS of (a) into (b) with the advent of language, and of (a) + (b) into (c)
with the advent of religious, political, ideological and educational discourses. The three
dimensions could also be conceptualized within general semiotics as three social semiotic
systems – praxis, normativity and theory – that are, to various degrees, intertranslatable.14
TRANSLATING FRIENDSHIP ALTERNATIVELY 173
and 1980s, classicists began to see ancient people as relatively more ‘Other’ than modern
people, and ancient friendships were seen more as part of a wider system of instrumental
transactions with implicated obligations. Thus, the forms of reciprocity in friendship
were seen as more obligatory, and less as an affectionate relationship characterized by
intimacy as we know it, ungoverned by calculations of interests. Konstan himself was a
part of this turn, but, as he continued his classic studies, he found so many anomalies in
the implied assumptions that, in his 1997 book, he presented arguments that challenged
the anthropologized scheme of classic friendship. This controversy is not yet resolved and
has left many open questions.
One lesson is that, in science and scholarship, one does not study phenomena such as
friendship directly; researchers make a model of it that – depending upon a disciplinary
view or perspective – lifts some aspects of the phenomenon out of its real complexity to
constitute it as an epistemic object (an apple as an object of biochemistry is its metabolic
processes; an apple as an object of economy is processes of supply, demand, price changes;
etc.). In this way, research translates everyday complexity to (mono- or inter)disciplinary
simplicity, and if researchers want to apply knowledge gained in other disciplines, they
must beware of the need to reflect on processes of recontextualization and retranslation.
to a contemporary meaning of being someone who is enjoyable and close, that is, ‘a shift
from (habitual) affectionate thoughts to (occasional) pleasurable company’ (Wierzbicka
1997: 52). She sees the older meaning as being closer to the classic Roman conception
based on mutual good will and affection, and believes that the modern expression ‘close
friend’ reflects such a change, because, in the past, all friends were close friends (p. 53).
For this claim, she uses historical lexical evidence, but some of her observations seems
questionable and have been criticized.19
Second, and more important for TS, Wierzbicka maps the meanings of the friendship
concepts, scripts and their related incompatible taxonomies of interpersonal non-kin
relationships in English, Russian, Polish and Australian cultures through a comparative
analysis, resulting in a detailed list of explications of these terms, given in English with
simple words that are not unique to English, but translatable to all other languages.20 To
summarize the conclusion of her analysis, at least eleven non-identical friendship-like
concepts stand out (where I use the ≠ sign to indicate non-identity within the family of
related terms), namely, (English) Old-English friend ≠ present-English friend ≠ (Russian)
drug ≠ podruga ≠ prijatel’ ≠ tovarisc ≠ rodnye ≠ (Polish) kolega ≠ przyjaciel ≠ znajomy ≠
(Australian) mate.
Here we see a linguist not only focusing on texts and TN but also actively TS-translating
(without using specific semiotic concepts) cultural scripts for a whole set of non-identical
relationships with various similarities. Wierzbicka’s main point (and why we can see this
as TS-translations) is that the source and the target of a concept in any such translation are
non-isomorphic (not just linguistically but also culturally), not to be confused, and this
implies some degree of meaning shift that has to be interpreted within the larger culture
of any such notion.
ideas of friendship between me, a veritable normative subject of Indian intellectual and
educational history, and my artisans, the indigenous working classes, the other subjects of
Indian history’ (2017: 245). In her reflections on her fieldwork, written some years later,
she relates that she ‘had planned to be a professional researcher collecting information
from informants; as it turned out, informants would interact with me only if I would be
a sister or a friend to them’ (p. 245). Thus, her informants ‘demanded’ her friendship;
she was not allowed just to record theirs. Though Kumar does not explicitly use the TS
perspective, it is arguable that her informants actually translated their own roles vis-à-
vis her into her being a much more familiar or ‘close’ person in a network of ties that
could involve utility as well as affection, and even love. The translation was mutual; she
accepted it, and often had a great time with them.
This experience, to be understood as a translational process of a cross-cultural kind,
came with a certain irony, as she relates, namely,
that the anthropological project of taking their subjectivities seriously turned around
to my being aggressively taught by them of their agency, not their passivity. Their
exercise of agency and control in our relationship provided the very vocabulary for
it, and resulted in an ironic defeat for me, and a victory for them. I did not succeed
in transforming them into my ‘informants’ without first graduating into their ‘friend’
and ‘sister’.
(p. 246)
As described in greater detail in her fieldwork memoirs (Kumar 1992), these (what
I am tempted to call) translational friendships were varied, took different forms and
often resembled some kind of ‘fictive kinship’ (though she doesn’t use this technical
anthropological term), such as becoming someone’s ‘sister’ or ‘daughter’ and, thereby,
also inheriting all of that person’s other family relationships. For instance, ‘before I knew
it I was established as his older sister. This was no mere formality. I was his wife’s sister-
in-law, his parents’ daughter, his children’s bua (paternal aunt), and many convoluted
relationships with the rest of his large extended family’ (1992: 147). Once Kumar
fathomed what was going on, she could also, in certain situations, take the initiative to
become a person’s ‘sister out of choice’ (p. 175), when that person was busy and therefore
elusive, and Kumar, in addition, wanted to interact with his quiet daughter and illiterate
wife, as she says, ‘eat with his family, sleep overnight with them, share their worries
and thoughts (p. 147) and she realized that the fictive kinship could make them more
comfortable and allowed her to reciprocate in some ways for their extensive help to
her. In the world of the artisans of Banaras, there seemed to be no space for voluntarily
serving a stranger by answering questions about many aspects of their own personal lives.
The stranger had to be translated into a friend. A brass-smith with strong theatre interests
‘got tired of … [Kumar’s] empty questioning’ and invited her home ‘for meals and the
festival of Holi’, and thus she ‘was adopted as a family member thenceforth and everyone
breathed easier’ (2017: 246). To other informants, Kumar developed close ties, similar
to ‘a hearty colleague’s relationship’ (1992: 189), such as that with a poet, who was ‘no
brother’, but a good friend who ‘shed many friendly reflections on my task’ (2017: 246).
He embarrassed her by his generosity (1992: 177), and perhaps also by what she admits
to be ‘an ease with emotions’ that she ‘had never learned to communicate’ (1992: 190).
So many times, a local informant translated the anthropologist into a friend (often via
fictive kinship).23 The anthropologist herself could be troubled about this, or at least
ambivalent, being, on the one hand, a friend to many people, as Kumar noted, ‘almost
TRANSLATING FRIENDSHIP ALTERNATIVELY 177
in the literal sense of the word (“a person attached to another by respect or affection”)’
(1992: 189) and, on the other hand, professionally having a ‘hidden agenda’ that pricked
her conscience (p. 189). This unease with her own motivation can be seen as questioning
how to translate or accommodate her own, more modern, notion of friendship – a notion
that is often slightly romanticized as being a purely non-instrumental relationship for its
own sake – to a more pragmatic notion of friendship as also involving motivations of
utility and pleasure.
Looking back, this prompted Kumar to ask if she did ‘merely playact the gestures of
friendship?’ (2017: 246), yet she was sure that there ‘was something more real than the
performance’. However, she also concluded that what both she herself and her informants
were doing was performing friendship, and doing so perfectly: ‘Performing friendship
was what there was to do’ (p. 246). This performative perspective upon friendship in
contemporary India (not yet explicit in her 1992 memoir) is inspired by more recent
anthropological studies of how people may play with hierarchical gendered roles. One
could say that, at this point, performance studies meets translation studies. Kumar could
as well have concluded her 2017 article by claiming that ‘translating friendship was
what there was to do’. Remember the distinction in performance studies between ‘is
performance’ and ‘as performance’, like ‘theatre is a performance’, while almost anything
can be analysed in its performative aspect ‘as performance’ (see Note 9). So, the question
that was nagging Kumar was ‘were these friendships for good?’, that is, friendships
definitively, or were they ‘just playacts’, performances? As an answer, with no further
analysis, she rejects the relevance of this distinction, thereby distancing herself from a
romanticized, idealistic and modern idea about ‘true’, authentic friendship versus more
superficial relationships. By this move, I think, Kumar avoids a modernist-existentialist
jargon of authenticity that denigrates common social behaviours as being ‘just’ performed
(‘in bad faith’, mauvais fois, as it were, to use Sartre’s and de Beauvoir’s term), that is,
performed in self-deceiving modes that ignore individual freedom not to conform to
social demands of performing a role in a special way. Kumar simply observes that the
translation (or performance) of friendship actually worked.
Does it always work? Can some aspects of friendship become untranslatable in certain
situations? It is far from trivial (or ethically uncomplicated) to use friendship as ‘a
method’24 in ethnography. The anthropologist can come to question her own concept of
friendship, or the nature of a relationship with an informant, especially in circumstances
of conflict and war that may suddenly block face-to-face contact but generate needs for
material aid to an informant. This is exemplified by the work of a Dutch anthropologist,
Marina de Regt, who describes in detail her relationship with Yemeni friends, especially
a woman referred to as Noura. De Regt and Noura became close friends after their
first meeting in Yemen in 1993, and only later, but long before the present war, Noura
became one of her informants (De Regt 2015; 2019; forthcoming). Due to the war in
Yemen it became impossible for de Regt to return; phone contact became essential for
her to follow the situation, and she started sending money to support Noura, who was
in dire need. As reflected in De Regt’s articles (aiming at discussing the ethical dilemma
of combining friendship with research), their relationship changed, from an equal one
of mutual care, affection, shared activities like vivid discussions about politics, to one
in which De Regt felt reduced to a money provider, though she also felt guilt about her
more privileged situation. Many details have been omitted from this brief summary, but
it is fair to say that, due to circumstances, a modern kind of private friendship, centred on
conversations, leisure activities, mutual sharing of personal information and affection for
the other person for her own sake, was slowly translated by the semiotic constraints of the
178 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
TS within the Western tradition, across epochs: Virtue, fraternity, best friends?
Is it possible to find a long historical line of TS translation from virtue friendship, from
the ancient Greeks up onto the modern notion of best friendship as a private relation
of intimate trust, affection and confidentiality? A tentative affirmative answer can be
given, based on a collaborative attempt by twelve scholars, organized by Barbara Caine,
to map the history of friendship in the West, that is, its meanings, the nature and changing
patterns of friendship from the ancient times to late modernity (Caine 2009). After a brief
summary of this collective work, we will question its implicit idea – that it is possible to
reconstruct a complex history of friendship in the West – by asking if this story is also
about a complex of translational processes.
Although the transformations of friendship ideals and practices through epochs (as
schematized in Figure 9.3) are extremely complex, some patterns stand out. Caine’s
research collective discusses classical ideals, especially Cicero’s thinking on friendship,
which set out the enduring Greek and Roman conceptions of friendship that had a great
influence up through the Renaissance. The Greek philia involved, as noted above, a
wider range of relationships, including those with kin, guests and political allies. While
there were competing visions of how such bonds should be regarded and sustained, the
two most persistent classical conceptions were those of Aristotle and Cicero, who both
stressed the shared moral commitments in friendships and being each other’s equals.
Cicero (106–43 BCE) became the basis of discussions of friendship for centuries to come,
up to the Renaissance. The ideals were transformed/translated in response to Christianity,
which preached universal love and charity rather than exclusive friendship, suggesting
that human relationships should serve not the people in them, so much as God. These
TRANSLATING FRIENDSHIP ALTERNATIVELY 179
values, and monasticism, came to overshadow ancient ideals, and medieval society altered
ideas about friendship as well, regarding the relationship as a way to cement ties and
delineate obligations between unequal parties; friendship became the glue of feudalism.25
Yet personal friendship re-emerged in the twelfth century, especially in the Cistercian
monk Aelred of Rievaulx, who tried, both theoretically and practically, to reconcile
Cicero’s celebration of ideal friendship with the Christian ideas of the vertical love of
God. But there were also ‘pacts of friendship’ between men who were equals – ties so
close that the friends sometimes chose to be buried together. During the Renaissance,
men and women elaborated on classical and medieval traditions, creating a new culture
of friendship, evident in double portraits, stylized letters and ritual gift-giving. Then,
due to the Enlightenment, there is evidence that equality in relationships became more
important, and friendships were viewed in a more secular light, though the relationships
were increasingly sentimentalized. In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, women’s
friendship gained greater notice, especially in literature (once women ‘took up the
pen’, it became possible for the historians of Caine’s team to take a more gendered and
differentiating approach to friendship). In the nineteenth century, there are far richer
sources to show the variety of ways in which different classes, races and sexes envisioned
friendship and its political implications. Working-class movements expressed their
revolutionary goals in terms of friendship and fraternity; middle-class reformers hoped
to bridge class differences with the poor through practices of friendship. An array of
social changes affected friendship in the twentieth century. Whereas, in earlier centuries,
friendship often entailed public obligations and services, today friends may render
service to each other, but it is of a more private and emotional nature, and friendship
has come to be envisioned less instrumentally. Another change was a re-emergence of
homophobia, which affected, especially, heterosexual male friendships. Once idealized
as the quintessential form of friendship, men’s relationships changed dramatically, as
fears of homosexuality developed. Simultaneously, women’s bonds, which had seemed of
secondary importance to the public in earlier periods, came almost to define friendship
in the modern era. Another intriguing development was the way that people eager for
political change conceived of friendship. It had earlier been questioned whether true
amity was possible across racial, class or ethnic divides, but, by the twentieth century such
doubts were disappearing, and many came to see friendship as possessing a power to unite
the divided and transform politics – quite a translation of Aristotelian ‘civic friendship’.
The contributors to the final parts of Caine (2009) suggest that, in contemporary society,
friendship has become a relationship of unprecedented importance.
If the whole TS of friendship in the West, though complex and fragmented, displays
emotional continuities in its forms, there are also breaks, or at least one remarkable
relocation of friendship from the sphere of the community or polis (as distinct from a
not-yet-emerged bourgeois public) to a more private sphere. As noted by David Garrioch
(in Caine 2009: 202, drawing on the work of Allan Silver), the tradition of Scottish moral
economists (Hume, Smith, Ferguson) argues that it was only in commercial societies of
the kind they advocated and which were emerging at that time, that true friendship was
possible: ‘For Smith, the development of markets, which were impersonal and based on
self-interest, promoted the appearance of another, qualitatively different sphere of life in
which a superior form of friendship could be cultivated’ (Caine 2009: 202), that is, outside
the sphere of necessity and instrumental interest.26 Genuine friendships – established for
their own sake – were not seen as possible at the marketplace, in the factories or in poor
rural settings. Neither was friendship sustained by the church, as it was difficult to translate
180 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
this mutual and preferential form of love into the Christian dogma of the non-preferential
love of a heavenly Father (it may be a moot point whether philia was (mis)translated into
agape or simply displaced by charity).27 And in the public sphere, and especially in the
state, friendship, patronage and networks had already ‘lost something of their charm’28
due to the aim of building strong institutions based upon meritocratic norms and rational
bureaucracy, and avoiding cronyism and nepotism. So, when friendship was translated
into modernity, it became a private affair, and its best versions passed, from emphasizing
its virtuous character to centring upon emotions, psychological closeness and intimacy.
A note on the continuity between the ancient and modern forms of friendship:
Obviously the Athenian polis, where Aristotle developed his theory of friendship,
differed a great deal from late modernity, but there are also similarities that may have
facilitated smoother translations, not only of texts but also of the famous three types (as
real generalities) of friendship that Aristotle described – those motivated by pleasure,
utility and virtue – so that, in one sense, this translation is a part of a complex of civilizing
processes within the evolution of Western societies. Some of the similarities between
ancient and modern models of friendship (especially translating virtue friendship into
‘best’ or ‘close’ friendship) are related to affluence as a boundary condition for these
models, and to what Henrich (2020) describes as weird people, that is, that peculiar
minority of humanity coming from societies that are Western, Educated, Industrialized,
Rich and Democratic (who also have an exceptional psychology, as Henrich points out).
The Athenian polis was not industrialized, but Aristotle came from the aristocracy and
was, by contemporary standards, an educated citizen who was well-off. The aristocrats
could afford to have friends, not just as a means ‘to harm one’s enemies’29 or as political
allies but for their own sake, cultivating virtue.
This may help explain the astonishing ease by which Aristotle’s philosophical analysis
can be translated into a critical version of present-day social psychology, as exemplified
by a recent study (and a kind of ‘test’ of Aristotle) by Anderson and Fowers (2020).
By translating the ancient typology forwarded by Aristotle to assess friends’ various
characteristics, they discovered important variation across friendships of today,
noting that such ‘friendship characteristics appear to have important implications for
understanding the role of friends in happiness and flourishing’ (p. 276). Their ‘test’ and
translation of Aristotelian friendship is part of an important critique of present-day social
research for being distortive to the best kinds of friendship, because it is guided by ‘an
impoverished and largely implicit theory’ with a narrow instrumental and individualistic
perspective, suggesting that what is important about friendship for people (being asked to
self-report their ‘friendship satisfaction’) are only the private, personal benefits that the
friends obtain (Fowers and Anderson 2018: 185ff). The implication is that much social
science research on friendship tends to ignore that relationship’s communal dimension,
which affords individuals with security and experiences of caring for and being for others
as ends in themselves. By translating the Aristotelian axiology of friendship, Fowers and
Anderson remind us of five critical elements of a contemporary friendship relationship,
namely, that (1) what is most valued in the best kinds of friendship are the friend’s welfare
and the friendship itself; (2) the good friend’s pattern of acting and being contributes
to its robustness; (3) the friend brings forth one’s best self through encouragement; (4)
the trust in the relation enables security, conversational quality and possibilities of self-
reflection and self-improvement; and, finally, that (5) friends help each other to pursue
common goals and stay committed to them. Thus, it is not lost in their TS of Aristotle’s
model that shared activities within a good friendship are constitutive of the friendship
itself; it is its own ends and means, not a means to any higher or ulterior end.
TRANSLATING FRIENDSHIP ALTERNATIVELY 181
How about translating friendship before the ages of the Greek polis? As shown by
Moses Finley, in his study of the heroic world of Odysseus in the archaic period, there was
a special kind of ritualized friendship, xenia (sometimes translated as ‘guest-friendship’),
that could be entered into by two powerful men who were not from the same family,
tribe or area. To understand its function, it must be remembered that such men were
obsessed with status, and we should not miss the double significance of wealth: ‘The
circulation of treasure was as essential a part of heroic life as its acquisition; and it was
this movement, the fact of its existence and the orbits it followed that set that life [of a
hero] apart from any other life of accumulation’ (Finley 1977: 125). Finley explains that,
in this unlettered epoch,
the heroic world was unable to visualize any achievement or relationship except in
concrete terms. The gods were anthropomorphized, the emotions and feelings were
located in specific organs of the body, even the soul was materialized. Every quality or
state had to be translated into some specific symbol, honor into a trophy, friendship
into treasure, marriage into gifts of cattle.
(p. 125)
And ‘trust into ritual objects’, adds his student, Gabriel Herman (1987: 50, 61) in his
detailed study of xenia and its role in Ancient Greece before the emergence of city states
and, later, in parallel with them. The personal xenia between men that criss-crossed the
ancient world with an extensive network of personal alliances followed a specific etiquette
for that relationship’s establishment, in which an initial exchange of gifts was an essential
part. It was almost a rite de passage that effectively translated a stranger into a friend.
This exchange differed from other gift exchanges by the need of having the counter-gift
follow promptly on the reception of the first gift; furthermore, the two gifts had to be of
a commensurate intrinsic value. Over time, this exchange gave rise to a more specialized
form of gift, called the symbolon, the only function of which was to prove one’s identity (a
bone, coin, tablet, or similar object was broken into two complementary pieces that could
later be shown to fit together). Thus, the ritual can ‘be viewed as effecting a breakthrough
in the psychological barriers of strangerness and hostility’ (Herman 1987: 69), changing
their relative positions. Herman notes that ritualized friendship, abundantly attested in
both Greek and Latin sources from all periods of classical antiquity, disappears from view
in late antiquity (maybe due to another TS): ‘There are good reasons to assume, however,
that it was gradually annexed by the Christian Church, since it reappears in a new guise
in the early medieval variants of godparenthood: Latin compaternitas, and Byzantine
synteknia’ (Herman 2012).
[w]hat certainly emerges from the essays on China, Japan, and India is that in these
Oriental cultures there is apparently nothing to compare with the concentration
182 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
But such comparisons are difficult to make, tend to overgeneralize differences and may
seem a little outdated.30 If we consider the situation regarding friendship in premodern
China more in detail – as described by Whalen Lai (1996) in the book reviewed by
Burns – the picture is more complex. On the one hand it is correct, as Lai notes, that
‘Confucianism does not associate love with friendship as the Greeks with the filia would’
(p. 223); rather, it emphasizes trust, as evidenced by the Analects of Confucius (fifth
to sixth century BCE).31 Yet the virtue of trust – ‘required of all men in in all social
dealings’ – ‘is not qualitatively unique to friends’ (p. 223), so this seems to indicate that,
indeed, friendship was simply ‘not a central concept in China’ (p. 218). Real friendships,
though, existed and could be personal, but they were not premised on self-disclosure
as in modern forms of friendship; the Confucian gentlemen did not need ‘to know
each other too intimately’ (Lai 1996: 228). But Lai also shows how poets of the Tang
dynasty (616–907 CE) ‘legitimized friendship but also gave private feelings a public form’
(p. 239), and how the literati of a more neo-Daoist cast, later on (in the ninth to tenth
centuries CE), brought some emotional and aesthetic dimensions into a relationship that
was previously seen as founded on rites and rituals. Thus, Lai’s essay takes a long-range
look at the issue of friendship in Confucian China, from its roots in Confucius’s own
thinking, via Confucian scholars, through the eras of Han and Wei-Chin, and further
on to a real ‘flowering of friendship ideology’ in Late Ming (1368–1644 CE), where it
became ‘the radical means of restoring humanness to government’ (Lai 1996: 244). For
this radical agenda, Lai believes that it can be ‘translated into a postmodern discourse on
virtue’ (p. 245), in which one works politically for ‘the communal good’ upon which a
community is based, discerning the borders between public and private interests – Lai asks,
‘Do we not still believe that somehow a Good Society based on friendship is possible?’
(1996:249).
Wei-cheng Chu’s essay, with the apt title, ‘The Utility of “Translated Friendship” for
the Sinophone World: Past and Present’ (Chu 2017), deserves attention. Chu describes
how Matteo Ricci (1552–1610), an Italian Jesuit priest and founding figure of the Jesuit
China missions, translated a selection of Western philosophical friendship discourse
into a Chinese pamphlet, entitled You Lun, [On Friendship], published in 1596 (Ricci
2009). In 1582 Ricci had arrived at the Portuguese settlement of Macau, where he began
his missionary work in China.32 When Wei-cheng Chu uses the notion of ‘translated
friendship’ in his essay, it is not in the simple sense of a TN of specific works of Aristotle
or other classics; what Ricci did was to distil a core of ideas on virtue friendship from
Renaissance Latin texts33 into seventy-six (in the first edition) and, later, one hundred
(in the third) thought-provoking Chinese maxims, written in a masterful classical style.
According to his recent translator, Timothy Billings (2009), these sayings established his
reputation as a great sage. Lai concurs:
informed the political platform of the ‘reform party’, the Tung-lin Academy which was
then opposing the abuse of power by the eunuchs at court.
(Lai 1996: 217; cf. McDermott 1992)
Both Lai and Chu emphasize that what was being translated was a whole package of
idealistic ideas about friendship in the West, into a specific Chinese context, and that
these ideas fell in the fertile soil of interpreters. There was already in the intellectual
environment of late-Ming China ‘exciting new talks on friendship’, though this tradition
of Chinese discourse on friendship was less elaborate than the Western one. Thus, one
cannot simply call Ricci’s TS of friendship a direct Western import.34 What was it, then?
Chu notices the intervenient character of Ricci’s translation as being a part of his larger
missionary project, so its ‘utility’ is to be found in this context, and Chu suggests that such
scholarship-based interventions may also be possible in modernity – that ‘the modern
form of friendship can still be expected to exert a significant interventionary [sic] effect in
shaking off the traditional pull’ (Chu 2017: 181). Remember that ‘mission’ for Christians
is about sending the Holy Spirit into the world (from Latin mittere, ‘send’), a project
that needs forms of TS – a variety of translational semioses! By establishing himself as
a sage within a Chinese context, Ricci could, at least temporarily, translate himself into
a local interlocutor of the literati who were critically opposed to the strict hierarchy
of imperial rule. Scholars like Billings have shown in detail that disregarding ‘whether
Ricci actually tried to accommodate European ideas about friendship to what he thought
might appeal to Chinese readers, his essay was nonetheless inserted into a preexisting
discourse on friendship, notwithstanding fundamental differences between the two’
(Billings 2009: 50ff).
If one is worried that ‘much of the debate about intersemiotic translation is still biased
toward language, or models itself on interlinguistic translation’ (Marais 2019: 62), we
must, in the present context, remember that Ricci’s translation is not just about translating
or rewriting texts of friendship from European languages into Chinese – it is part of a
larger translation35 of ideas, people, and discourses, integral to his general mission, and
in a sense also including a translation of himself in this new context, by aligning himself
with the Confucian elite of literati. As Burke (2007a: 9) observes, ‘translation implies
‘negotiation’ and, thus,
Matteo Ricci discovered that if he dressed as a priest no one would take him seriously,
so he dressed like a Confucian scholar instead, thus ‘translating’ his social position
into Chinese. He allowed the Chinese whom he converted to pay reverence to their
ancestors in the traditional manner, arguing that this was a social custom rather than
a religious one. He translated the word ‘God’ by the neologism Tianzhu [Tianzi],
literally ‘Lord of Heaven’, and allowed Chinese Christians to refer simply to Tian,
‘Heaven’, as Confucius had done.
The first maxim in Ricci’s On Friendship is retranslated into English as ‘My friend is not
an other, but half of myself, and thus a second me – I must therefore regard my friend as
myself’ (Ricci 2009: 91), echoing Aristotle’s Ethics, and setting a strong point of departure
not just for the following maxims but also for Ricci himself in making new friends. Ricci’s
pamphlet was published and republished twice in his lifetime by several of his befriended
local officials – officially without Ricci’s knowledge, ‘since the Jesuits were not allowed to
184 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
print without approval from Rome, which could take years’ (Billings 2009: 2). Chen Jiru
(1558–1639), a Ming Dynasty writer, wrote a preface to the maxims, emphasizing that
‘[u]nless there are friendships, the other four [of the five cardinal] relationships cannot be
fixed’ (Wang 2017: 27; cf. Billings 2009: 48), thus, situating Ricci’s work on friendship
tightly within the Confucian context.36
Ricci’s intervenient pamphlet was not singular; five decades later, in 1647, another
Italian Jesuit, Martino Martini, wrote a sequel, called Pamphlet on Gathering Friends.
Martini warns the reader that not all love is compatible with friendship. He brings to
the attention an ambiguity in male friendship that can be paraphrased as a distinction
between ‘those who love my body’ and ‘those who befriend my heart’. This concern
about conflating homosociality and homosexuality was also Ricci’s, argues the scholar
Giovanni Vitiello:
In the cultural translation that Ricci and Martini’s books mean to provide, sexuality is
not left out. Their topic being friendship between two men, the sexuality in question
cannot but be male homosexuality. By hinting at a disruption between friendship and
homoeroticism, apparently triggered by their perceived contiguity, the two Europeans
are also smuggling into China a sexual ideology that implies opprobrium towards
sodomy.
(Vitiello 2000: 251)
No such concerns were present in the late Ming elite circles of literati. ‘We know how
appalled Ricci was at the popularity of and lack of legal and social prejudice towards
homosexuality in the China he visited, as well as how surprised some Chinese commentators
were at the Europeans’ criminalization of it’ (Vitiello 2000: 251). In Ricci’s TS translation
of friendship across cultures and epochs, while something is kept (e.g. the idealization of
equality in friendship), something is also lost (going from an Aristotelian to a Confucian
context), and something new (such as a more demarcated border between homosociality
and homosexuality) is created, which in this case raises new problems.
without a Kuhnian crisis stage, and that a new taxonomy can be generated stepwise out
of the old frame. If one remembers that, while their object of analysis – scientific progress
understood as changes in taxonomies, frames, concepts and theories – involves other
mechanisms than the TS translation of friendship through epochal time and cultural space
(involving not just concepts but also practices, social norms and discourses), it is still
possible to envision a detailed analysis of changes in the latter using a similar approach.
By analysing both the cross-epochal evolving friendship tradition in philosophy, with its
changing ideas about friendship, represented as frames, and this tradition’s transformation
into a proliferation of empirical scientific disciplines and the humanities, each with
their own variant of some model of friendship, and how they contribute to our present
understanding of models of ancient, medieval and modern friendship, it may be possible
to construct an alternative and broader notion of TS that also involves social, cognitive
and cultural practices.
Space prohibits an extended investigation along these lines, so, just a few remarks about
the components of such an analysis will do. A partial frame representation of friendship
may involve ‘social interpersonal relation’ as a superordinate concept, and ‘friendship’ (of
some form) as the subordinate concept, and can be represented as a specific combination of
attribute-related values of each attribute. For example, the attributes of ‘social interpersonal
relation’ may be ‘degrees of freedom in the relation’, ‘formation’, ‘activity location’,
‘motivation’, ‘degree of idealisation’ and so on. For each attribute, a set of values can be
defined (like ‘high’/‘medium’/‘low’ for the attribute ‘degrees of freedom’; ‘self-chosen’/‘other-
chosen’ for the attribute ‘formation’; ‘public’/‘private’ for the attribute ‘activity location’
that also refers to the visibility of the relationship; ‘reproductive utility’/‘other utility’/‘
pleasure’/‘virtue’/‘intimacy’ for the attribute ‘motivation’; ‘high’/‘low’ for the ‘degree of
idealisation’ attribute). Now a cluster of subordinate kinds of interpersonal relations can
be characterized by their combination of attribute-related values: romantic relationship,
friendship (several forms possible), marriage, patronage, political allies, religious ‘brothers’
or ‘sisters’, colleagues and so on, each characterized by differences and similarities in their
combinations of attribute-related values. The next step in the analysis would be recursively
analysing friendship (now as a superordinate concept) and its attributes and values in
greater detail to characterize one of its forms as a sub-subordinate concept.
Though the focus in Chen and Barker (2000) was centred on theoretical concepts, the
approach can be adapted to TS by focusing on the semiosis of practices of interpersonal
relationships that are partly directed by social norms and ideals. The long process of TS
of ancient virtue or guest friendship forms into modern intimate ‘best’ friendship can be
represented by mapping the two different frames, and analysing how the change of one
into another could occur stepwise, but still involve losses and adaptations in the process.
We have pursued the idea of expanding the concept of translation in translation studies
to cover non-linguistic forms of translation, a view compatible with and inspired by the
(bio)semiotic approach to meaning-making based on sign action, not only among humans
but throughout living nature. But why call processes such as ‘modifying cultural practices
though historical time’, or ‘letting ideals or practices from another culture inspire one’s
own’ a translation, rather than interpretation? Referring to ‘interpretative semiotics’
as semiotic approach to translation within Peircean semiotics, Eco and Nergaard
(1998: 219) observe that, within this approach, translation is seen ‘as a subspecies of
interpretation (there are, by contrast, many interpretations that cannot be strictly defined
as translation)’. Thus, interpretation is the more general concept and translation a
subspecies. Yet, they also paraphrase Peirce’s claim that an ‘interpretant is any sign which
explains or “translates” the first one’ (Eco and Nergaard 1998: 219), as Marais (2019)
also emphasizes. We could simply suggest that modern friendship practices emerged in
part by interpreting ancient ones within a new historical context, and changing them.
Would it make any difference? An answer may await the development of a more detailed
theory of TS that integrates accounts for causal and hermeneutic processes, though a
guess is that it depends upon what kinds of context, so the epistemic benefits of applying
the perspectives of TS are particularly pertinent to situations of cultural translation (as
depicted in Figure 9.3), where different cultures meet, clash or diverge along new routes.
A challenge facing the study of changes in friendship practices through time is that
we often only have written sources to rely on, and we need to consider the time- and
culture-specific rhetorical styles for performing bonds that can be both instrumental
and emotional. Are such styles a translational device between emotions and actions?
In discussing the relation between two English spies in Bordeaux in 1590 – the exiled
Anthony Standen and Francis Bacon’s brother Anthony – the Renaissance researcher Will
Tosh notes that
the acquaintance developed between Standen and [Bacon] in 1591 reveals something
about the nature of instrumental friendships between men, and the ease with which
a mutually beneficial relationship (what we might think of today as a ‘professional’
acquaintanceship) could come to be draped in an affective language of loyalty and
favour. This is not to suggest that such language was inauthentically applied: in the
sixteenth century, relations of utility as well as emotional bonds were expressed in the
highly personalised terms of intimate friendship.
(Tosh 2016: 20)
Tosh argues that the ‘friendship spaces’ of early modern England permitted the expression
of male same-sex intimacy to a greater extent than has previously been acknowledged.
The search for expanded or alternative forms of translation, when applied to human
beings, runs into the same difficulty as do investigations of body language: Most often,
spoken and body language are not separate, but intertwined, just as interwoven as thought
and language can be. It is true, as Peirce noted, that sign action ontologically covers
more than language, but in humans, our semiotic systems are intermingled. TN is a part
of TS, and the risk of reducing all translation to interlingual translation is not the same
as admitting concepts like semiosis and TS the status of being most general. Children
and adolescents learn to perform culture-specific practices of friendship quite early on,
when they are also still learning the performance of spoken and written language. In the
Renaissance, Cicero’s Letters to Friends and Letters to Atticus were used, according to Will
TRANSLATING FRIENDSHIP ALTERNATIVELY 187
Tosh, ‘to teach Latin in schoolrooms, and the style and wit of his letters were emulated
by correspondents later in life. The key was to play cleverly on the original phrases and
ideas, and to draw on Cicero’s philosophic and political approach, rather than slavishly
imitate his sentences’ (p. 31). This applies to our spy Anthony and his friend Faunt, as
Tosh observes, ‘[w]hen Anthony made ”comparison of our well grounded frendshippe
with that we find to have bene betweene Tully [Cicero] and Atticus”, Faunt [his epistolary
friend] was delighted’ (p. 46), because it ‘lifted the nature of their relationship from the
estimable field of friendships in general, to the heights of the virtuous friendship par
excellence’ (p. 46). If we had access to the right performative resources and a modicum
of emotional intelligence, ancient models of friendship could be TS-translated into
contemporary trust and intimacy.
CONCLUSION
It is likely that people have always made friends, but as exemplified by the cases we
have discussed, such relationships have been approached differently by different people,
times, cultures and disciplines, so as to make the extent to which we can talk about ‘the
same’ phenomenon contested. However, this situation offers us a rich phenomenology,
amendable for a taxonomy of the fluid forms of this whole cluster of relationship types
and their translational metamorphoses, now receiving an increased interdisciplinary
attention from fields such as history, anthropology, philosophy, sociology and
psychology. It was argued that a theoretically more general concept of translation, TS,
covering not just interlingual but cross-cultural and cross-epochal translational processes,
semiotically conceived, can help to make sense of friendship as a universal relational
semiotic phenomenon, expressed and performed in a variety of context-dependent modes
across cultural times and spaces. Cases such as those we discussed provide data for such
an idea, if not a theory, of translated friendship in which this relational phenomenon
is seen as a configuration of practices, norms and ideals, sociopsychological attitudes,
obligations, expectations and ways of performing this relationship, not only verbally
but also emotionally, embodied and embedded within cultural matrices. Thus, a more
advanced theory of general translation could serve to develop a notion of normative
interpersonal configurations as both social and psychological dispositions to behave (or
practice social action) in some particular manners, following patterns that allow the
translation and transformation of these patterns across psychological and social space and
time. Friendship configurations could, thus, be grasped as evolving across ‘big’ (historical)
times and (cultural) spaces, and to one of our initial questions, we can answer yes: There
is a general story of friendship to be told, translated and retranslated many times.
NOTES
1 Herman (1987: 61), cf. the discussion below on the symbols of ritualized friendship.
2 In citations, CP is followed by the volume, and paragraph number of Peirce (1932, 1933,
1935 or 1958).
3 The view of translation as involving interpretation and, thus, semiosis, is a relatively
uncontroversial view in translation studies (Eco and Nergaard 1998); what is alternative
in TS, as developed here and in Marais (2019), is that interpretation can be of other signs
188 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
than lingual ones, and that whenever spoken or written language is involved, it is with an
emphasis upon the embeddedness of intertextual translation within broader practices of
transmission across time and space.
4 Shmoop University Inc. at https://www.shmoop.com/decameron/friendship-quotes.html
(accessed October 2020; can also be found at www.archive.org).
5 Smit and Morrison (2010); Prusiński (2018); see also https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Friends_
with_benefits
6 For such a third position, cf. Pym and Turk (1998).
7 For treatments within translation studies of ‘cultural translation’, see, for example Buden
et al. (2009), Bandia (2014), Maitland (2017) and (with an emphasis on the external origins
of this notion) Conway (2019).
8 This is pointed out in the entry on interpretatio graeca in the en.wikipedia.org that contains
such a detailed list.
9 See Schechner and Brady (2013: 38ff) for a discussion about ‘is’ and ‘as’ performance.
Much more can be studied ‘as’ performance than what a given culture or some
circumstances typically see ‘is’ performance. The general point (also relevant for
translation studies) is that ‘[e]verything and anything can be studied “as” any discipline of
study – physics, economics, law, etc. What the “as” says is that the object of study will be
regarded “from the perspective of,” “in terms of,” “interrogated by” a particular discipline
of study’ (Schechner and Brady 2013: 42). By the way, there are obvious intersections
between translation studies and performance studies; for example, hybrid performances
(which incorporate elements from two or more different cultures or cultural sources) can be
studied as alternative forms of translation.
10 In such a perspective upon, for instance, the emergence of the Renaissance of the twelfth
century, the TN of ancient Greek texts (related to an increased contact with the Islamic
world in Spain, and with Byzantium, that allowed Europeans to translate works of Hellenic
and Islamic authors, especially Aristotle) was embedded in a more complex TS of an ancient
worldview into a Christian worldview. The TS of the philosophy of friendship was part
of this. In implying, but not explicating, a distinction between TN and TS, David Konstan
(1997) comments upon Derrida’s remark that, though Hegel’s Idea is not Plato’s Idea, ‘the
word Idea is not an arbitrary X, and it bears a traditional burden that continues Plato’s
system in Hegel’s system’ (p. 10), and states (p. 11) that ‘The instabilities in both the
ancient and the modern senses of the term “friend,” which are precisely what endow it with
a history, demand an approach that reckons with the transformations within a concept that
has been shown to be in some essential respect continuous’. Thus, a history of ideas about
meaning (like the one by Deely 2001) can be seen as reconstructing a complex network of
translation processes about theories of meaning, from ancient times to the present day.
11 For a popular introduction to this body of research, see Denworth (2020), cf. also Seyfarth
and Cheney (2012), Brent et al. (2014). Scholars from the humanities are often wary
about the evidence needed to infer real friendship (excluding simpler tit-for-tat strategies)
in non-human animals, and judge it ‘very difficult to extract which mechanism is actually
underwriting the observed pattern of reciprocity’ in apes (Hruschka 2010: 210). This is
contrasted with human friends’ ‘relative insensitivity to past behaviour and future payoffs’
when helping a friend; a pattern which is seen as ‘puzzling from an evolutionary perspective
that emphasizes survival of the fittest’ (Hruschka 2010: 29).
TRANSLATING FRIENDSHIP ALTERNATIVELY 189
12 For an extensive survey of the literature, see Hruschka (2010), who also drew on a database
on peasant and small-scale societies around the world, to find four friendship characteristics
surviving comparisons with the many characteristics of friendship in modern industrialized
societies: mutual aid, need-based helping, positive affect and gift-giving among partners.
13 One can expect that the existence of urban lifestyles and strong institutions affect the
private/public location of friendship and its practices (Österberg 2010). As noted by
Henrich (2020: 22), urban, industrialized, educated people ‘show relatively less favouritism
toward our friends, families, co-ethnics, and local communities than other populations do.
We think nepotism is wrong, and fetishize abstract principles over context, practicality,
relationships, and expediency’.
14 This conception is in line with Marais (2019: 57 and Chapter 4).
15 This scaffolding depends also upon the particular styles of reflection for each individual
(Emmeche 2015). For use of Peircean semiotics to analyse the friendship relation, see
Emmeche (2014, 2017). Hofstadter (2007: 354) suggests that ‘the most crucial factor’ for
where to draw the line for applying the word ‘conscious’ is ‘whether or not the entity in
question could be said to have some notion, perhaps only very primitive, of “friend”, a
friend being someone you care about and who cares about you’. I thank Kalevi Kull for
reminding me of Hofstadter’s suggestion.
16 Different ‘turns’ in the humanities may be conceived of as TS translations, whereby a
field or paradigm that imports new theoretical perspectives is translated into a different
paradigm (according to Konstan, ‘classics came to be invaded by anthropology!’; see
him interviewed by Philip Mitsis at NYU Abu Dhabi Institute, 17 October 2012, on the
occasion of the publication of an Arabic translation of Konstan (1997): https://youtu.be/
O3rGjUlFcQY. The anthropological impact on classic studies is visible in Finley (1977) and
Herman (1987), cf. below.
17 Brain (1977) for a comparative anthropological account that emphasizes a variety of forms,
cf. also Hruschka (2010).
18 See James Underhill’s interview, ‘In Conversation with Anna Wierzbicka – How English
Shapes Our Anglo World’ at https://youtu.be/jCw3dfmgP-0
19 See critique in Ramson (2001), reply in Wierzbicka (2001). Using the more recent Google’s
ngram viewer (https://books.google.com/ngrams) on constructions like ‘dear friend’,
‘best friend’, ‘good friend’ and ‘close friend’ only partly confirms Wierzbicka’s claims;
‘close friend’ shows a long but very slow increase in use from 1850, while ‘best friend’
dramatically increased in frequency since 1980 (corpus: googlebooks-eng-20200217).
The same source shows relative constancy of the ‘friend of mine’ construction, in contrast
to what Wierzbicka claimed, but confirms her sense that the ‘my friend’ construction is
decreasing.
20 It can be objected that the assumption that some English simple words are somehow
universally translatable is questionable; for a critique, see Blumczyński (2013). I thank an
anonymous reviewer for raising this point.
21 See https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ungleichzeitigkeit and https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Non-
simultaneity.
22 cf. Carrithers (2010), an entry that also draws upon Kumar (1992).
23 This demand for translation is understandable. Especially in non-Western collectivist
(so-called regulated-relational) (cf. Henrich 2020) societies, you don’t trust strangers
190 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
enough to simply voluntarily give away pieces of personal information. You want
mutuality in relations of exchange, as in a gift economy. Science and scholarship can
also be considered as gift economies, as pointed out by sociologists of science Robert K.
Merton and Warren O. Hagström. The scientist gives away a new piece of knowledge to
the scientific community and hopes to get back recognition and merit. The pieces of ‘data’
anthropologists are eager to pick up from their informants are, thus, met by a demand for a
more mutual form of exchange: a kind of recognition that takes the form of friendship.
24 There is little literature on friendship as a method in anthropology (e.g. Tillmann-Healy
2003). Some anthropologists think that friendship is ‘an essential part of the very practice
of ethnography’ (Eva van Roekel, interview at https://medium.com/find-out-why/the-study-
of-friendship-in-anthropology-d957d5583c3c). Anthropologists are, in general, ambivalent
about this, and wary about giving informants material support in exchange for information.
The European Association of Social Anthropologists (EASA) has, to date (year 2020), not
created ethical guidelines on this or other issues; the American Anthropological Association
has a ‘Code of Ethics’ (approved June 1998), which is silent about payment and about
friendship.
25 This is, in fact, an extension of patron-client ties of the ancient world, thus, pointing to
both continuity (regarding the ‘vertical’ power-dimension of unequal friendship types)
and break (regarding its ‘horizontal’ dimension) in the translation of friendship from the
ancient to medieval times. On the situation in medieval Northern Europe, cf. Hermanson’s
illuminative account: ‘The Icelandic chieftains’ subject farmers were tied to their lords
through bonds of friendship. Among intellectuals, the relationship between mentor and
disciple was one of friendship. The same was true in classical Greco-Roman societies
where the vertical ties between patron and clients were described in terms of friendship’
(Hermanson 2019: 140).
26 For further discussion, see Allan Silver’s work, for example Silver (1990, 1997). See also
Hill and McCarthy (2000).
27 For an elaboration, see Meilaender (1981), who points to five contrasts that we can see
as influencing TS: (1) Philia as preferential versus agape as nonpreferential; (2) philia
demands reciprocity, while agape needs to be shown to the enemy from whom no love is
expected to be returned; (3) philia can change, while agape is eternal; (4) philia and ‘civic
friendship’ were noble things in the ancient world, but the modern political bond of justice
must be impartial and impersonal; and (5) philia was preeminent when work had little
personal significance, while agape helped shape a world in which vocation was seen as a
very important form of service to neighbour. The implication, as shown by Grayling (2013:
61–75), is that, though we can look ‘at any Christian website on friendship and see familiar
[reasonable] things being said’, when they are subordinated to the Christian doctrine, this
becomes incoherent and devalued.
28 Österberg (2010: 78).
29 In Ancient Greece, it was a virtue, or moral code in the broadest sense, to help one’s friends
to harm their enemies; see Blundel (1989: 39), who notices that ‘we are less inclined than
the ancient Greeks to divide up our world between friends and enemies’. This idea may
be related to a modern emergence of the figure of a non-dangerous, completely neutral
stranger, cf. Silver (1990, 1997).
30 Since Burns’s assessment, new, important scholarship on friendship in Imperial China has
been published, e.g. Wang (2017), Chu (2017), Kutcher (2000), Vitiello (2000), Huang
(2007a) and Shields (2015).
TRANSLATING FRIENDSHIP ALTERNATIVELY 191
REFERENCES
Anderson, A. R. and B. J. Fowers (2020), ‘An Exploratory Study of Friendship Characteristics
and Their Relations with Hedonic and Eudaimonic Well-being’, Journal of Social and
Personal Relationships, 37 (1): 260–80. https://doi.org/10.1177/0265407519861152
192 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
Assmann, J. (1997), Moses the Egyptian: The Memory of Egypt in Western Monotheism,
Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Bandia, P. F. (2014), ‘Translocation: Translation, Migration, and the Relocation of Cultures’,
in S. Bermann and C. Porter (eds), A Companion to Translation Studies, 273–84, Chichester,
West Sussex: Wiley.
Belfiore, E. S. (2000), Murder among Friends: Violation of Philia in Greek Tragedy, Oxford:
Oxford University Press.
Billings, T. (2009), ‘Introduction’, in M. Ricci (ed.), On Friendship. One Hundred Maxims
for a Chinese Prince, 1–82, Translation and introduction by Timothy Billings, New York:
Colombia University Press.
Blumczyński, P. (2013), ‘Turning the Tide: A Critique of Natural Semantic Metalanguage from
a Translation Studies Perspective’, Translation Studies, 6 (3): 261–76. https://doi.org/10.108
0/14781700.2013.781484.
Blundell, M. W. (1989), Helping Friends and Harming Enemies. A Study in Sophocles and
Greek Ethics, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Brain, R. (1976), Friends and Lovers, London: Hart-Davis, MacGibbon.
Brent, L. J. N., S. W. C. Chang, J. F. Gariépy and M. L. Platt (2014), ‘The Neuroethology
of Friendship’, Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences, 1316: 1–17. https://doi.
org/10.1111/nyas.12315
Buden, B., S. Nowotny, S. Simon, A. Bery and M. Cronin (2009), ‘Cultural Translation: An
Introduction to the Problem, and Responses’, Translation Studies, 2 (2): 196–219, https://
doi.org/10.1080/14781700902937730.
Burke, P. (2007a), ‘Cultures of Translation in Early Modern Europe’, in P. Burke and
R. P. C. Hsia (eds), Cultural Translation in Early Modern Europe, 7–38, Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press.
Burke, P. (2007b), ‘Translating Histories’, in P. Burke and R. P. C. Hsia (eds), Cultural
Translation in Early Modern Europe, 125–41, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Burns, R. (1997), ‘‘Friendship’, review of Oliver Leaman (ed), Friendship East and West:
Philosophical Perspectives (Curzon Press, 1996)’, The Expository Times, 108: 350–1.
Caine, B. (ed) (2009), Friendship. A History, London: Equinox.
Cantarella, E. (2009), ‘Friendship, Love, and Marriage’, in B. Graziosi, P. Vasunia and
G. Boys-Stones (eds), The Oxford Handbook of Hellenic Studies, 294–304, Oxford: Oxford
University Press.
Carrithers, M. (2010), ‘Fieldwork’, in A. Barnard and J. Spencer (eds), The Routledge
Encyclopedia of Social and Cultural Anthropology, 2nd edn, 289–92, London:
Routledge.
Chen, X. and P. Barker (2000), ‘Continuity through Revolutions: A Frame-Based Account of
Conceptual Change during Scientific Revolutions’, Philosophy of Science, 67 (Proceedings):
S208–S223.
Chu, W. (2017), ‘The Utility of “Translated” Friendship for the Sinophone World: Past and
Present’, in C. Risseeuw and M. van Raalte (eds), Conceptualizing Friendship in Time and
Place, 169–83, Leiden: Brill-Rodopi.
Conway, K. (2019), ‘Cultural Translation’, in M. Baker and G. Saldanha (eds), Routledge
Encyclopedia of Translation Studies, 3rd edn, 129–33, London: Routledge.
De Regt, M. (2015), ‘Noura and Me: Friendship as a Method in Times of Crisis’, Urban
Anthropology, 44 (1, 2): 43–70.
De Regt, M. (2019), ‘In Friendship One Does Not Count Such Things’ Friendship and Money
in War-Torn Yemen’, Ethnofoor, 31 (1): 99–112.
TRANSLATING FRIENDSHIP ALTERNATIVELY 193
Silver, A. (1997), ‘Two different Sorts of Commerce – Friendship and Strangership in Civil
Society’, in J. Weintraub and K. Kumar (eds), Public and Private in Thought and Practice.
Perspectives on a Grand Dichotomy, 43–74, Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Smit, K. J. K. and K. Morrison (2010), ‘The Philosophy of Friends with Benefits: What College
Students Think They Know’, in M. Bruce and R. M. Stewart (eds), College Sex – Philosophy
for Everyone: Philosophers with Benefits, 103–14, London: Blackwell.
Smith, M. S. (2008), God in Translation: Deities in Cross-Cultural Discourse in the Biblical
World, Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans.
Stjernfelt, F. (2007), Diagrammatology, Dordrecht: Springer.
Stjernfelt, F. (2014), Natural Propositions. The Actuality of Peirce’s Doctrine of Dicisigns,
Boston: Docent Press.
Tillmann-Healy, L. M. (2003), ‘Friendship as Method’, Qualitative Inquiry, 9: 729–49.
Tosh, W. (2016), Male Friendship and Testimonies of Love in Shakespeare’s England, London:
Palgrave Macmillan. https://doi.org/10.1057/978-1-137-49497-9
Vitiello, G. (2000), ‘Exemplary Sodomites: Chivalry and Love in Late Ming Culture’, Nan Nü,
2 (2): 207–57.
Wang, P. (2017), ‘The Chinese Concept of Friendship: Confucian Ethics and the Literati
Narratives of Pre-Modern China’, in C. Risseeuw and M. van Raalte (eds), Conceptualizing
Friendship in Time and Place, 25–58, Leiden: Brill-Rodopi.
Wierzbicka, A. (1997), Understanding Cultures through Their Key Words: English, Russian,
Polish, German and Japanese, Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Wierzbicka, A. (2001), ‘Australian Culture and Australian English: A Response to William
Ransom’, Australian Journal of Linguistics, 21 (2): 195–214.
196
CHAPTER TEN
Meaning-making Processes
in Religious Translation
Involving Sacred Space
JACOBUS A. NAUDÉ AND CYNTHIA L. MILLER-NAUDÉ
INTRODUCTION
Sacred space, like its inextricable temporal counterpart sacred time, provides a means for
humans to separate manifestations of the divine (hierophanies) from ordinary (profane)
existence (Eliade 1959; Otto 1959 [1923/1917]). Sacred space – the translation of the
concept of the sacred into spatial reality – is itself the translation of cultural worldviews
of cosmic geography, cosmology and cosmogony. The concrete realities of local shrines
and centralized temples are architectural translations of divine transcendence, as well as
translations of the manifestation of divine transcendence to those who enter. Sacred texts
bear both an emergent and a symbiotic relationship to sacred space: Conceptions of the
divine as embodied in sacred texts are translated into sacred spaces, but sacred spaces also
shape conceptions of the sacred and its translation into holy writ.
Sacred texts and their translations are usually seen in isolation as instantiations
of purely interlingual translation, without any consideration that the processes of
religious experience in interaction with the reality that brought them about can also
be processes of translation. Similarly, the processes that map religious knowledge to
spatial reality are not ordinarily viewed as processes of translation. This linguistic
bias in translation studies was promoted by Jakobson (1959), who defined translation
as different kinds of interpretation of verbal signs, namely intralingual, interlingual
and intersemiotic translation. Marais (2019: 17) points out a limitation of Jakobson’s
definition, namely, that all three categories relate to verbal signs – he defines even
intersemiotic translation as relating to the translation of verbal signs into non-verbal
signs – with the result that intersemiotic translation does not include translation
between two different non-verbal sign systems. Working within the framework of
Peircean semiotics, Marais (2019, especially 14–16) proposes that a semiotic approach
to translation must account not only for lingual signs but also for all instances of
translation (even cases of translation that do not include language at all). Marais’s
proposal allows us to see all the complex, interrelated processes that are involved
in the mapping of sacred space – physically, conceptually, socially – as processes of
198 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
translation in the sense that they involve the semiotic transfer of meaning within – as
opposed to across – the sign system of a religious belief system. Furthermore, just
as sacred texts can be interlingually translated into new linguistic and cultural
contexts, sacred space can be semiotically translated across both cultural and religious
boundaries. Marais’s proposal also has implications for religious translation and the
meaning-making semiotic processes in religion, where language and translation are
seen to play a central role not only in the practice of religion (Sawyer 1999) but also
in the academic study of religion (DeJonge and Tietz 2016).
The goal of this chapter is to avoid the fragmentation of religious translation that
results from a focus solely on interlingual translation by including other processes
of alternative translation holistically in order to enhance our understanding of the
meaning-making processes of religious translation. Translating sacred space will
be examined in this chapter as an example of alternative religious translation. In
contrast to the traditional definition of translation, which has led to reductionism in
understanding religious translation, viewing religious translation as extending beyond
interlingual translation expands the scope of religious translation in significant ways.
We will deal with the processes of translating sacred space by describing the linking
of sacred space to the conceptual reality that brought about the idea of sacred space,
as well as the mapping of this knowledge to new realities and texts, as instances of
translation. The translation of sacred space depends on the nature of the religious
tradition with respect to oral and written traditions; we can broadly categorize
religious traditions into three groups (see Naudé and Miller-Naudé 2018 and Naudé
2021), and give an indication of their global population (as indicated by Pew Research
Center Forum 2012):
comes the sense of divine wrath and judgement, from the latter, experiences of grace and
divine love. This dual impact of the daunting and the fascinating was Otto’s characteristic
way of expressing the encounter of humans with the holy (Otto 1959[1923/1917]: 45).
The ideas and concepts (love, mercy, pity, comfort, etc.) are the parallels or schemata
on the rational side of the non-rational aspect (fascination) (Otto 1959[1923/1917]: 45,
60–4). Note that Otto (1959[1923/1917]: 33, 38, 40, 74) typifies non-rational aspects,
like ‘mysterium’, with the notion ‘ideogram’, which is a graphic symbol representing the
concept or idea rather than the sounds of a word. As an analogical notion taken from the
natural sphere, an ideogram illustrates the real meaning, but it is incapable of exhaustively
rendering it. Otto 1959[1923/1917]: 41) claims that rationalization of religion ends in a
developed system or in a completely worked-out theory and interpretation by which the
fundamental fact of religious experience is eliminated.
passage between the profane and the sacred (Eliade 1959: 24–5). The centre also creates
the passage through which communication is established between the three cosmic
levels, that is, netherworld, earth (mundane) and heaven (transmundane), referred to as
‘axis mundi’ or ‘imago mundi’. The centre is the formative principle of countries, cities,
temples, palaces and human dwellings to be closest to the god(s) (Eliade 1959: 37, 65).
Hierophanies give structure and orientation to the world of religious humans by
establishing a sacred order to which they conform themselves – the cosmos, which is an
inhabited and organized (‘cosmicized’) territory (Eliade 1959: 29). The space outside their
world or cosmos, which is peopled by ghosts and demons, is viewed by religious humans
as chaotic space that is uninhabitable (Eliade 1959: 29–32, 34). By settling in it and giving
it structure by clearing uncultivated ground, humans symbolically transform (translate)
it into a cosmos through a ritual repetition of the primordial act – the transformation
(translation) of chaos into cosmos by the divine act of creation, which is equivalent to
consecrating it (Eliade 1959: 31, 34). Similarly, the Vedic ritual for taking possession
of a territory by the erection of an altar is a reproduction on a microcosmic scale of the
creation – the water and clay/stones that form the altar symbolize the primordial water
and earth respectively (Eliade 1959: 30–1). Cosmicization as repetition of the cosmogony
is always a consecration (Eliade 1959: 32).
The desire of religious humans is to participate in the sacrilized reality, to be saturated
with power; therefore, the tendency is to live as much as possible in close proximity to
consecrated objects, that is, to the sacred space, which has implications for the consecration
of human life and habitation by the encumbering of taboos (Eliade 1959: 12–14). As an
example of ‘sacred space’ that demands a certain response from humans, Eliade (1959:
20) gives the story of Moses taking off his shoes before Yahweh’s manifestation in a
burning bush (Exod. 3.5).
The experience of nonreligious humans (as prevalent in modern societies) is reflected
in the tendency of desacrilizing the cosmos to be profane (Eliade 1959: 13–15). In
contrast to sacred space, Eliade (1959: 22–3) claims that profane space is homogeneous
and neutral and gives humans no pattern for their behaviour. However, Eliade (1959:
23–4) claims that even the most desacrilized existence preserves traces of a religious
valorization of the world, with the result that privileged places are qualitatively different
from others; for example, a birthplace may still retain an exceptional and unique quality.
To summarize, sacred space is where heaven and earth meet. Sacred space – the
translation of the concept of the sacred into spatial reality – provides a means for humans
to separate manifestations of the divine (hierophanies) from ordinary (profane) existence.
As it is itself the translation of cultural worldviews of cosmic geography, cosmology
and cosmogony, the next section will show how the concrete realities of local shrines
and centralized temples are both architectural translations of divine transcendence and
translations of the manifestation of divine transcendence to those who enter.
that world. The architectural structure, assimilated to the centre, is a point of junction
of communication and passage that is sacred transformation, between heaven, earth, and
netherworld (Knipe 1988: 108).
According to Eliade (1959: 45–7), an architectural structure representing sacred
space has the cosmogony as paradigmatic model, which means that a new construction
reproduces (spatially translates) the creation and repeats the cosmogonic act. Eliade
(1959: 52, 54–6) discusses two of the ways of homologizing architectural structure
to the cosmos. First, the structure assimilates to the cosmos by the projection of the
four horizons from a central point – the roof symbolizes the dome of the sky, the floor
represents earth and the four walls project the four cardinal directions of cosmic space
from a central point (the navel) (Eliade 1959: 46–7, 52). The architectural structure,
therefore, spatially translates the cosmogony and represents the world. Second, repetition
of the cosmogonic act occurs through a ritual of construction of the paradigmatic acts of
the gods by virtue of which the world was born from the body of a marine dragon or of
a primordial giant. It involves a symbolic imitation of the primordial sacrifice that gave
birth to the world, by which the architectural structure is animated; that is, it receives
life and a soul through a blood sacrifice. To summarize, the architectural structure is
sanctified by either a cosmological symbolism or by ritual so that it becomes the universe
that humans construct for themselves by imitating the paradigmatic creation of the gods,
the cosmogony (Eliade 1959: 55–6). It is a new beginning and new life, and repeats the
primordial beginning. The habitual action of the ritual within the structure semiotically
creates the meaning within the space.
The terms of architectural structures and their translations for representing
sacred space are varied, for example, altars, shrines, high places, ‘where the gods
are’, sanctuaries, tabernacles and temples. In contemporary Jewish religion, this
space is translated as ‘synagogue’; in Christianity as ‘church’, ‘basilica’, ‘cathedral’
or ‘tabernacle’; and in Islām as ‘mosque’. The phenomenon of a mysterious space
containing structures, symbols and devotees is usually translated for convenience sake
as ‘temple’, which is derived from the Latin templum (Haran 1985: 13–15). In this
sense, the term ‘temple’ is used for structures in the ancient world (e.g. Sumer, Israel,
Greece and Mesoamerica), and in areas in which ancient temple traditions continue
today (e.g. India and Japan) (Knipe 1988: 106). It is also the case of the building
erected by Solomon in Jerusalem, known in Hebrew as ‘the House of the Lord’ (bêt
YHWH), which was conceived as the dwelling place of the divine. Haran (1981: 31–3)
makes a categorical distinction between the temple and the altar, which is, at least, valid
for the ancient Near East. Structurally, the temple was a closed structure with a roof,
whereas an altar was found only in the open. Functionally, the temple was considered
to be a dwelling place equipped with furnishings and accessories symbolizing the
divine presence, while the altar was intended only for sacrifices. Every temple would
be accompanied by an altar and functionaries, but not every altar would necessarily
be attached to a temple and, furthermore, it could be served by anyone. According
to Knipe (1988: 106), the temple as a sacred space exists as a functional physical
structure of mundane construction materials, sometimes in ruins or as a reconstruction,
or sometimes in memory with its complexity, guises and range of meanings as a cultural
experience in some human societies.
Eliade (1959: 58) interprets the temple as the earthly reproduction of a transcendent
model, a copy (translation) of a celestial work of architecture. The creation myths were
translated into the architectural space of ancient temples, which were designed to be
206 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
models of the cosmos and which were viewed as the hub of the cosmos (Walton 2011).
The three levels of the cosmos represented within the creation myths were translated
spatially into three areas of temples – the outer court, the inner court and the inner
sanctum (holy of holies) (Walton 2011: 88–9). In treating the symbolism of the temple
in Jerusalem, the first-century Jewish historian Flavius Josephus wrote that the court
represented the sea (i.e. the lower regions), the holy place represented earth and the holy
of holies represented heaven (Ant. Jud. 111, 7, 7) (Eliade 1959: 42–3).
According to Stiebing (2009: 134), the floor level in a typical ancient Egyptian temple
gradually rose from the entrance to the holy of holies. The highest spot represented
(translated) the mound of creation that first rose above the waters – every temple was
conceptualized as the place where the world first emerged and became the very image
(translation) of the organized cosmos, in other words, a microcosm. Most temples had
the following features: an open court, a roofed columned hall and a holy of holies. The
columns, decorated with papyrus, palm and lotus plants, translate the plants of the
primeval marsh; they support a roof that was decorated to represent the sky. As one
moved from the open court into the hall, then to the holy of holies, the rooms became
increasingly darker, leaving the shrine of the deity in primordial darkness. Thus, each
temple was semiotically a powerful refashioning (or translation) of the world.
Furthermore, temples in the ancient Near East were typically placed upon mountains,
hills or elevated areas, as iconic of the dwelling of the gods on mountains (Keel 1985;
Kang 2008). Even local shrines in ancient Israel are described as ‘high places’ (e.g. 2 Kgs
17.9); archaeologically, a ‘high place’ was often simply an elevated stone platform on
which the altar was placed. Zion as the site of the temple is described in the Hebrew
Bible as a ‘mountain’ (Pss 3.5; 48.2; 99.9), because that is the kind of place where a deity
such as Yahweh should dwell, even though the physical geography of Jerusalem cannot
actually be described as more than a hill.
As a spiritual epicentre, Jerusalem’s esplanade has been regarded as sacred for about
three millennia by Jews, Christians and Muslims (Grabar and Kedar 2009). Created
by the conquerors – Canaanite, Israelite, Egyptian, Aramean, Assyrian, Babylonian,
Persian, Greek, Roman, Arab, Seljuk, Crusader, Mameluke, Ottoman, British, Jordanian
and Israeli – the different experiences of sacred space are reflected in successions of
architectural translations of the space, as well as in various successions of attitudes, shapes,
myths, symbols and practices that shape the space, or which are shaped by the space itself.
Although there is continuity through time, the space is retranslated as reflected by the
various terms used through the centuries to define the space. For Jews and Christians
(who share the heritage of the Hebrew Bible/Old Testament), it is identified as Mount
Moriah, where God commanded Abraham to sacrifice his son, Isaac (Gen. 22.1-18) (for
Muslims the story relates to Ibrahim’s son Ismā’īl in Mecca [Sūrah al-Ṣaffāt 37:102–110]).
For Jews and Christians, it was also known as Mount Zion in biblical times (not to be
confused with the hill in contemporary Jerusalem referred to by this name, which dates
to Byzantine times). For the Jewish religion it is the holiest space, where the House
of the Lord (bêt YHWH) (tenth century BCE to 586 BCE) of Solomon and the rebuilt
and renovated Temple (bêt hammiqdāš ‘House of the Sanctuary’) (538 BCE to 70 CE)
once stood and where, it is believed, the Temple is to be rebuilt in messianic times. For
Christianity, it is the Temple that Jesus repeatedly visited, foretelling its destruction and
announcing the advent of a new, spiritual worship. As a cursed space (Matt. 23.38, 24.2)
of which the temple-less mountain (70 CE to 638 CE) is evidence, Christians in pre-Islamic
times located their sacred spaces elsewhere in Jerusalem, for example, the Church of the
MEANING-MAKING PROCESSES IN RELIGIOUS TRANSLATION 207
Holy Sepulchre, which houses the traditional site of the tomb of the resurrection, guarded
by Greek Orthodox, Armenian, Roman, Coptic, Syrian and Abyssinian denominations.
The destruction of the temple was not redressed until the Muslim conquest in 638, when
the Mosque of Jerusalem (Masjid Bayt al-Miqdis) (638 CE to 1099 CE), consisting of the
Dome of the Rock and the Aqsa Mosque, was erected. It became the third-most-sacred
space for Islām (after Mecca and Medina), as the site to which the Prophet Muhammad
travelled on his mystical night journey and ascension (Grabar and Kedar 2009: 9–13).
After the conquest of Jerusalem by the crusaders, the Dome of the Rock was converted
(retranslated) into a church, namely the Lord’s Temple (Templum Domini) and al-Aqsa
became a church called Salomon’s Palace (Palatium Salomonis) (1099 CE to 1187 CE ).
They were reconverted (retranslated) into sacred spaces for Islām after 1187 CE as the
Furthest Mosque (al-Masjid al-Aqsa) under Ayyubid Rule (1187 CE to 1260 CE), the
Noble Sanctuary (al-Haram al-Sharif) under Mamluk Rule (1260 CE to 1516 CE) and
Haram-i Şerif under Ottoman Rule (1516 to 1917). Muslims consider (translate) the entire
Haram a mosque and prostrate themselves in prayer everywhere upon it. The demise of
the Ottoman Empire led, inter alia, to the arrival of a new Christian authority in the form
of the British Mandate in 1917 and Israeli control over the esplanade after 1967. For
Jews and Israelis, the sacred esplanade becomes (translates into) the Temple Mount (har
habbayit) and the Western/Wailing Wall, whereas for Muslims and Palestinians it stays
Al-Haram al-Sharif. Although it is still contested today, this sacred space contains one of
the most truly international and genuinely ecumenical communities on earth – where Jews,
Christians and Muslims worship at a single site held sacred by all.
A case of architectural translating of sacred space of the mosques of Karīm al-Dīn
(c. 1320 CE) and Khwāja Jahān (c. fourteenth century) in Bijāpur (India) is provided
by Katherine E. Kasdorf (2009: 57–80). Both mosques were constructed from a
combination of reused and new architectural materials and bear a stylistic resemblance
to surviving eleventh- to fourteenth-century (Hindu) temples of the region. The reuse
of architectural materials points towards (indexically translates) an encounter between
local, non-Islamic traditions and newly introduced modalities associated with Islām.
Kasdorf (2009: 59) suggests an attempt on the part of the mosques’ architects to express
a ‘conceptual similitude’ or ‘dynamic continuity’ between two different types of sacred
spaces (non-Islamic and Islamic), to enact a visual (form) and conceptual (meaning)
translation between temple and mosque. Another dimension is added to the mosque of
Karīm al-Dīn’s capacity for translation by the inscriptions it contains in local languages,
as well as languages that are likely to have been relatively new in Bijāpur in 1320 CE
(Kasdorf 2009: 63). The stylistic overlap between the region’s non-Islamic and early
Islamic architecture signals an act of communication or translation between individuals
or groups with very different cultural backgrounds, by visually conveying information
about the mosque to individuals who were familiar with different kinds of sacred space
(Kasdorf 2009: 63, 65–6).
In the mosque’s construction, there is a transfer of architectural form from mandapa – a
hall in a Hindu temple – to a Muslim prayer hall; in its reception by individuals who
were more familiar with Hindu practices than with Islām, there is the visual translation
of a temple space into a mosque space (Kasdorf 2009: 68). In the translation, the aim
was not to find an exact equivalence between temple and mosque but rather to express
one type of sacred space in terms of the other, and to communicate a certain degree of
commonality between the two (Kasdorf 2009: 68). In fourteenth-century Bijāpur, this
architectural translation was expressed not only through pillars and their arrangement
208 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
but also through the central mihrāb, the architectural niche on the wall of a prayer
hall of the mosque, which marks direction oriented to Mecca and where the visual and
conceptual translation is most highly concentrated (Kasdorf 2009: 68). By reusing for its
mihrāb the type of doorframe that would have marked a garbhagrha (the holy of holies),
the most sacred and ritually potent space of a Hindu temple, the mosque of Karīm al-Dīn
translates temple conventions into an Islamic context to signal the sacred space, towards
which worship and prayer are directed (Kasdorf 2009: 71–2). Whereas the doorway
leading into a temple sanctum visually frames the image of the deity, the central mihrāb
of the Mosque of Karīm al-Dīn has framed a lamp, which further reinforces the visual
translation (Kasdorf 2009: 73). The translation of the materials and architectural forms
between temple and mosque invites multiple readings: Muslims who had migrated to
Bijāpur are likely to have seen the prayer hall and mihrāb primarily as the standard parts
of a mosque, whereas residents of Bijāpur who were newer to Islam may have understood
them through the corresponding elements of temples (Kasdorf 2009: 74). The manner
in which reused materials have been incorporated creates bilingual visual clues that mark
the prayer hall as a space for worship and the mihrāb as the focus of worship. Since Islam
was only beginning to take root, the functions of mosque architecture were expressed in
a way that would have been recognizable to Muslims, non-Muslims and new Muslims
(Kasdorf 2009: 75).
1992: 35; Biran 1981). Mount Sinai (or Horeb) is also the location of a (conceptual)
heavenly temple, made not by human but by divine hands as the dwelling place of the
divine, the One of Sinai (Exod. 15.17; Jud. 5.5). The tabernacle (or, tent of meeting) at
the base of the mountain was modelled upon it (Exod. 25.8, 40), so that the one at the
base and the other one at the top were in exact correspondence (Freedman 1981: 21).
After the tabernacle was erected as the tent of meeting at Mount Sinai, it was transported
through the wilderness to the conquered land of Canaan, and was eventually settled in
Shiloh in the form of a more solid structure (Haran 1985: 200). It was from Shiloh that
the sacred cultic object, the ark, was taken to Solomon’s House of the Lord in Jerusalem
(Gese 1984; 1 Sam. 4.3-7; 1, 2 Sam. 6.1-19, 1 Kgs 8.1-9). At a stage, the structure at
Shiloh no longer existed (Ps 78.6, Jud. 18.31). In the textual tradition, there is, thus,
depicted an emergent, partially overlapping translation of sacred space from the divinely
conceptualized tabernacle on Sinai to the physical tabernacle to the Shiloh shrine, and
from the Shiloh shrine to Solomon’s temple.
As depicted in the priestly texts, which were composed much later as the literary
product of circles of the Jerusalemite priesthood of Solomon’s House of the Lord (Haran
1985: 5–6), the tabernacle violates the laws of historical reality, since such a magnificent
building was only feasible during the reign of Solomon as a cedar-roofed exalted house (1
Kgs 8.13). The tabernacle never existed in early Israel in the form described in the biblical
text and must be viewed as conceptual (Haran 1985: 149, 189). The correspondence
between the description of the tabernacle in the priestly texts and the blueprint of
Solomon’s House of the Lord in Jerusalem (1 Kgs 6.2-38, 7.13-51) suggests that the
tabernacle was a utopian projection (translation) into the past of the latter building
(Rowley 1976[1967]: 51, 79). Note that the tabernacle is not an artificial projection
(translation) of a fixed structure; instead, the description of the tabernacle is structurally
adapted (indigenized) to reflect the nomadic or semi-nomadic conditions of the wilderness
wanderings prior to the settlement in Canaan (Haran 1985: 195). Similarly, the priestly
texts do not reflect the Shiloh structure that succeeded the tabernacle in its original, direct
form, but rather the Jerusalemite recasting of Shiloh; that is, the details of Jerusalemite
circumstances were retrojected onto Shiloh (Haran 1985: 202–3).
Solomon’s temple as described in the biblical text is, thus, the result of two translational
acts as also recorded in the biblical text – that of the (conceptual) dwelling of God on Sinai
and of the wilderness tabernacle. At the same time, Solomon’s physical temple served as
the prototype for the retrospective translation in the biblical text of the Sinai temple and
the wilderness tabernacle.
In addition to the tabernacle, Solomon’s House of the Lord in Jerusalem provided
the inspiration for two other literary (conceptual) temples in which its image is reflected.
The first temple, depicted in Ezekiel 40–48, never existed in reality but is an imaginary
construction (Haran 1985: 43). Its plan is translated through reshaping so that it is
excessively schematized for order, and to bring it into line with the requirements of
the priestly school of which Ezekiel was a disciple (Haran 1985: 45). For example, the
courts are square, the gates and chambers are arranged with painstaking symmetry, and
the temple compound is separated from the royal palace and placed far away from the
city. The second is the idealized temple in an eschatological New Jerusalem, known
from the Temple Scroll, a document from the Jewish Qumran community on the shores
of the Dead Sea, which dates to approximately the second century BCE (Wise 1990:
98–9; Yadin 1983, 1:386). In both cases, selected characteristics of Solomon’s temple are
translated into the literary representations of idealized temples.
210 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
The representation and translation of sacred space in ancient Israel involves three
interwoven traditions – the oral traditions lying behind the textual tradition, the textual
tradition itself and the architectural tradition. We understand the religious context of
ancient Israel to exemplify a hearing-dominant culture in which cultural traditions were
internalized and conveyed mainly by word of mouth, while texts were written for archives
and libraries to serve as reference points for memorization and recitation of the tradition.
In other words, in a hearing-dominant culture, such as ancient Israel, writing was known
but documents were written less frequently and for more constrained purposes than in a
text-dominant culture in which orality plays a less prominent role.
Having briefly examined the translation of sacred space in the religious tradition of
ancient Israel, we now consider another religious tradition that is strikingly different in
that it is a religious tradition with a dominant oral tradition. Our example involves an
African traditional religion, namely, that of the Eland San people of southern Africa, who
lived in the uKhahlamba-Drakensberg, a mountainous area of Lesotho and KwaZulu-
Natal province of South Africa. The Eland San were part of the Southern San, or |Xam,
and became extinct towards the end of the nineteenth century after at least 2,000 years
of habitation. Their predominantly oral culture is known to us primarily through their
magnificent rock paintings found in caves (see the images at http://www.sarada.co.za).
By 1961 the anthropologist Patricia Vinnicombe had found at least 308 painting sites on
the walls of caves in the uKhahlamba-Drakensberg mountain range. These sites contain
8,478 paintings, which means an average of 57 per shelter (Vinnicombe 1976: 135;
see http://www.sarada.co.za/#/library/Eland%20San/collections/PJV for the archive of
Vinnicombe’s images). Fifty-three per cent of the paintings are of human figures, 43 per
cent of animals (most prominently the eland; see Vinnicombe 1975) and 4 per cent are
of miscellaneous objects.
Although there is much about the Eland San worldview that cannot be known, it
has become clear that the images in the paintings are not simply art but are part of a
complex semiotic system, which is connected both to their religious thought and to sacred
space. Some evidence for understanding the web of interrelationships connecting the
Eland San myths, cosmological beliefs, geological landscape and rock paintings comes
from ethnographic materials from various groups of the Southern San (the |Xam), of
which the Eland San formed a part, as well as Northern San (such as the Ju|’hoansi,
!Kung and |Gui), who still live in Namibia, Botswana and southeastern Angola; these
materials must be used judiciously since there are differences, as well as connections,
between these groups (see Lewis-Williams 2015). However, the only translation of some
of the Eland San rock paintings by a San individual for whom their production was still
a living tradition comes from !ing (also spelled Qing), a San interpreter, from the end of
the nineteenth century.
In 1873/1874, !ing offered J. M. Orpen an intersemiotic translation of an Eland San
rock painting from the wall of Sehonghong cave in Lesotho (see the images at http://www.
sarada.co.za/#/library/Sehonghong/images/). It is one of only three known rock painting
sites in the whole of southern Africa for which we possess a translation of some of its
images provided by an individual for whom the production of rock art was still a living
tradition. (The others are Melikane, 40 km to the south, and Pitsaneng, 1 km upstream.)
Orpen published an account of !ing’s translation in The Cape Monthly Magazine under
the title ‘A Glimpse into the Mythology of the Maluti Bushmen’ (Orpen 1874; see also
Mitchell and Challis 2008). Orpen’s article was read by W. H. Bleek, a linguist who
studied the San language with his sister-in-law, Lucy Lloyd (Bleek and Lloyd 1911). Bleek
MEANING-MAKING PROCESSES IN RELIGIOUS TRANSLATION 211
showed the article with its drawings of the painting to a number of Kalahari (or Gemsbok)
San from Katkop (near Calvinia in the Northern Cape) who lived with him. Orpen’s
record of !ing’s exegesis and the supplemental explanations provided by Bleek’s Katkop
friends remain the most extensive authentic San exegesis of a San painting ever recorded.
(Far less extensive comments from other |Xam San individuals on rock paintings were
recorded by Bleek and Lloyd in 1875 and were recently published by De Prada-Samper
and Hollmann 2017.)
In his lengthy intratranslation that combines the accounts of Orpen and Bleek,
Verryn (1982: 14–17) kept as close to the reported words of !ing and the Katkop San as
grammatically possible (the extract below is from p. 17):
In that painting we see a water thing, or water cow which, in the lower part, is
discovered by a San man behind whom stands a San woman. This San man beckons
to the others to come and help him. Then they charm the animal, and attach a rope
to its nose in the upper part of the picture. They are in the rain. The upper part of
the picture shows that they must use a long rope and lead it over a wide part of the
country. Where it goes the rain will fall. The strokes are rain. Of the San who lead
the water cow, two are rain specialists – the two nearest the cow. The chief of them
is nearest the animal. In their hands are holders made of tortoise shell, containing
blessed buchu [a medicinal plant]. Strings ornamented with beads hang down from
these holders. The two men are preceded by two San women, one of whom wears a
cap. She is painted white for the dance.
The others are people spoilt by the moqoma dance, because their noses bleed.
|kaggen gave us the song of this dance, and told us to dance it, and people would die
from it (probably collapse in a trance) and he would give them medicine to raise them
again. It is a circular dance of men and women, and it is danced all night. Some fall
down: some become as if mad and sick: blood runs from the noses of others whose
medicine is weak, and they eat charm medicine, in which is burnt snake powder.
The water animal … is a very large animal with horns or quills which lives in pools
or rivers. Light flashes from its eyes … There are men who have died who also live
in rivers with the water animal. The rain specialists know them. This dance, and the
leading of the water animal, is usually performed when the wind is from the north.
!ing supplemented his translation with a fuller account of |Xam mythology (summarized
by Verryn 1982: 14–16):
The San had a clear perception of the human predicament of being trapped in a circle
of evil from which … there is no exit. The San experienced this situation in terms of
a deep respect for all life and – in the case of the |Xam – the life of ‘their’ animal,
the eland, in particular. The behavior of the eland, which concentrate in herds during
the rainy season and disperse when food is scarce, was regarded by the San as closely
parallel to their own social customs. The eland’s gestation period is the same as that
of humans. Eland were to San ‘almost human’. The psychological plight of captivity
in evil stemmed from the need to kill eland in order to live – to kill them by using
skills, and good fortune sent by God [|kaggen] – and yet, in so doing, to be harming
themselves as well as their victims, and offending God [|kaggen]. The eland is the
child of the Creator… The blood of the murdered animal was used to create more
animals, including more eland… Eland blood is used in painting. Overpainting and
212 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
repainting are meant to show that the eland lives again, and that reconciliation and
atonement have taken place … |kaggen does not love us if we kill an eland. |kaggen
is with the eland when it dies, and resurrects the animal… The hunter must walk with
a limp. He must fast and mourn for the animal, and be purified. When the animal is
painted |kaggen resurrects it… If an eland is shot, there will be a disastrous results on
the rain. Eland herd together when the rain comes. The rain bull is an eland. If there
is a violent storm, this is from the rain bull. If there is gentle soaking rain, it comes
from his cow.
From !ing’s translation of the images of the Sehonghong paintings, it is possible to glimpse
how the San view of the nature of being, of life and death, their mythology and ritual were
all translated on the cave wall at Sehonghong (Verryn 1982: 18). Subsequent research by
scholars working on many more of the rock paintings has revealed additional insights on
how the images convey meaning, how they were constructed and their relationship to the
construction of meaning-making processes in the religious thought and religious practice
of the Eland San.
Although, at first glance, the images of the rock paintings seem to convey their meaning
through purely iconic signs, both the individual images and their arrangements in the
panels show evidence of indexical and symbolic meanings. For example, images of fish
(or less commonly, crabs) are used to convey ‘underwater experiences’, but these are not
iconic images. Rather, they relate to the lowest of the three cosmological levels recognized
by the San – ‘the subterranean spiritual realm, accessible by means of holes in the ground,
cracks in the rock face and waterholes’, where spirit-beings (such as the rain-animal) lived
‘underwater’ (Lewis-Williams 2010: 7). To be underwater is a metaphor relating to the
trance dance, a ritual activating supernatural potency (Lewis-Williams and Pearce 2008:
428). To enter a deep trance is described by the San as ‘dying’ or as being ‘spoilt’, because
these are passages to the spirit realm (Lewis-Williams and Pearce 2011: 50).
Trans-cosmological experiences are also conveyed by the ‘thread of light’, the image
of a red line fringed with white dots on both sides. Ethnographers have documented San
beliefs about the shining ‘threads of light’ that lead shamans in trance experiences (Lewis-
Williams and Pearce 2011: 50–1). In the rock paintings, images of the ‘threads of light’
are used not only to convey the iconic meaning of the trance experience, but also to relate
images separated by several meters in a kind of ‘syntax’. Furthermore, because the spirit
realm was understood by the San to lie just behind the rock face, itself a kind of ‘veil’, the
threads of light allow the paintings to function as ‘mediators between the material world
and the spirit realm’ in a complex ritual involving altered states of consciousness (Lewis-
Williams and Dowson 1990: 8–9; Lewis-Williams and Pearce 2011: 53).
Unlike Western art, the San rock painters were not creating art but rather, by creating
images, they were ‘performing a ritual that blended the material world of daily life
with the spirit realm’, so that they were ‘painting their way’ into another dimension
as a religious ritual that was ‘comparable to the medicine dance itself’ (Lewis-Williams
and Pearce 2008: 430). Furthermore, the production of the images was considered
to be an ongoing process, with subsequent painters overpainting, repainting and
modifying the images through superpositioning of images, superimposition of images
and juxtapositioning of images. The work of image-making was, thus, collaborative and
unending, just as the rituals that they both enacted and represented were collaborative
and unending. We can, thus, understand the production of the images and their presence
MEANING-MAKING PROCESSES IN RELIGIOUS TRANSLATION 213
on the ‘veil’ of the rock face as both creating and consisting of sacred space. In Peircean
terms, a dicent interpretant ‘is a sign that construes another sign as an index’, a process of
indexical interpretation which has been described as ‘dicentization’ (Ball 2014: 152). The
iconic representations of religious ritual in the rock paintings ‘are meshed with indexical
connectivity’ so that the meaning-making process of the ritual is ‘anchored by its image-
to-connection transformative efficacy’ (Ball 2014: 152–3). The notion of dicentization
provides a semiotic way to conceptualize the viewpoint of the San that the images of their
rock paintings are perceived to be alive and to reflect actual existence. The San paintings
on the rock walls are no less than a sacred writing within a sacred space that recreates
ancient ritual and symbolizes religious beliefs by translating oral rituals and orally
transmitted beliefs into visual icons and symbols and by translating (and transporting) the
San from ordinary existence into the spirit world.
CONCLUSION
We have seen that the translation of sacred space involves complex meaning-making
processes. Sacred space as the translation of the concept of the sacred into spatial reality
depends upon the translation of cultural and religious worldviews concerning cosmic
geography, cosmology and cosmogony, which are imprinted on sacred space and shape its
features and meaning. In the same way that the concept of divine transcendence involves
a separation from the mundane and profane, so sacred space (like sacred time) involves a
separation from other tokens of spatiality – the spatiality of the sacred reflects iconically
the features by which divine transcendence is differentiated from ordinary existence.
The concept of divine transcendence may, thus, serve both as a translational incipient
or source for the concrete realities of local shrines and temples, and as a translational
subsequent or target for the manifestation of divine transcendence to those who enter or
contemplate sacred space.
In religions with a written tradition of sacred texts, the translation of sacred space
bears a symbiotic relationship to sacred text – how divine transcendence is manifested
within holy writ has a bearing upon how sacred spaces can appropriately serve as
incipient or subsequent within a translational process, while, at the same time, sacred
spaces may influence conceptions of the sacred and its embodiment in holy writ on the
basis of the perceptions and activities of the religious community that engages the divine
in sacred space. In religions without a written tradition of sacred texts, especially religions
that operate entirely with oral myths and rituals, the translation of sacred space depends
upon a living memory or a written (even if profane) description of the conceptions of
the divine and the meaning-making religious processes involving sacred space and the
spoken oral texts. In the same way that the translation of sacred space cannot be confined
to interlingual translation, the meaningful translation of sacred space – and indeed our
understanding of the meaning and functioning of sacred space – is very difficult apart from
either a living tradition or a written tradition for explicitation. The complex, interwoven
relationships between sacred space and sacred text, whether written text or remembered
text, and the fluidity of semiotic processes moving between instantiations of sacred spaces
and sacred texts, both within and across cultural-religious worldviews, suggest both the
potency of translation processes beyond translation studies and the human yearning for a
localized hierophany of divine transcendence.
REFERENCES
‘African Rock Art Digital Archive’. http://www.sarada.co.za
Ball, C. (2014), ‘On Dicentization’, Journal of Linguistic Anthropology, 24 (2): 151–73.
Bandia, P. F. (2011), ‘Orality and Translation’, in Y. Gambier and L. van Doorslaer (eds),
Handbook of Translation Studies, Vol. 2, 108–12, Amsterdam: John Benjamins.
Berquist, J. L. (1996), ‘Critical Spatiality and the Construction of the Ancient World’, in
D. M. Gunn and P. M. McNutt (eds), ‘Imagining’ Biblical Worlds: Studies in Spatial, Social
and Historical Constructs in Honor of James W. Flanagan, 14–29, Sheffield: Sheffield
Academic Press.
Biran, A. (ed.) (1981), Temples and High Places in Biblical Times: Proceedings of the
Colloquium in Honor of the Centennial of Hebrew Union College – Jewish Institute of
Religion, Jerusalem 14–16 March 1977, Jerusalem: The Nelson Glueck School of Biblical
Archaeology of the Hebrew Union College – Jewish Institute of Religion.
MEANING-MAKING PROCESSES IN RELIGIOUS TRANSLATION 215
Haran, M. (1985), Temples and Temple-Service in Ancient Israel: An Inquiry into Biblical Cult
Phenomena and the Historical Setting of the Priestly School, Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns.
Harvey, D. (1990), The Condition of Postmodernity, Oxford: Blackwell.
Hornik, H. J. (2018), Art of Christian Reflection, Waco: Baylor University Press.
Hundley, M. B. (2013), Gods in Dwellings: Temples and Divine Presence in the Ancient Near East,
Writings from the Ancient World Supplement Series 3, Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature.
Jakobson, R. (1959), ‘On Linguistic Aspects of Translation’, in R. A. Brower (ed.), On
Translation, 232–9, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Jenson, P. P. (1992), Graded Holiness: A Key to the Priestly Conception of the World, Sheffield:
Sheffield Academic Press.
Kang, S. I. (2008), Creation, Eden, Temple, and Mountain: Textual Presentations of Sacred
Space in the Hebrew Bible, PhD diss., Johns Hopkins University.
Kasdorf, K. E. (2009), ‘Translating Sacred Space in Bijāpur: The Mosques of Karīm al-Dīn and
Khwāja Jahān’, Archives of Asian Art, 59: 57–80.
Kant, I. (1952[1788]), The Critique of Practical Reason, Chicago: Encyclopedia Britannica.
Keel, O. (1985), The Symbolism of the Biblical World: Ancient Near Eastern Iconography and
the Book of Psalms, trans. Timothy L. Hallett, New York: Crossroad.
Keen, E. (1997), ‘Telling the Story in Dance’, in P. A. Soukup and R. Hodgson (eds), From One
Medium to Another: Communicating the Bible through Multimedia, 151–80, Kansas City:
Sheed & Ward.
Knipe, D. M. (1988), ‘The Temple in Image and Reality’, in M. V. Fox (ed.), Temple in Society,
105–33, Winona Lake: Eisenbrans.
Lefebvre, H. (1991 [1974]), The Production of Space, Malden, MA: Blackwell.
Lewis-Williams, J. D. (2010), ‘The Imagistic Web of San Myth, Art and Landscape’, Southern
African Humanities, 22: 1–18.
Lewis-Williams, J. D. (2015), ‘Texts and Evidence: Negotiating San Words and Images’, The
Southern African Archaeological Bulletin, 70 (201): 53–63.
Lewis-Williams, J. D. and T. A. Dowson (1990), ‘Through the Veil: San Rock Paintings and the
Rock Face’, The Southern African Archaeological Bulletin, 45 (151): 5–16.
Lewis-Williams, J. D. and D. G. Pearce (2008), ‘From Generalities to Specifics in San Rock Art’,
South African Journal of Science, 104: 428–30.
Lewis-Williams, J. D. and D. G. Pearce (2011), ‘Constructing Spiritual Panoramas: Order and
Chaos in Southern African San Rock Art Panels’, Southern African Humanities, 21: 41–61.
Littau, K. (2011), ‘First Steps towards a Media History of Translation’, Translation Studies, 4
(3): 261–81.
Loader, J. (1997), ‘Film Language and Communication: From Cecil B. De Mille to Martin
Scorcese’, in P. A. Soukup and R. Hodgson (eds), From One Medium to Another:
Communicating the Bible through Multimedia, 197–214, Kansas City: Sheed & Ward.
Lumbard, J. (2015), ‘The Quran in Translation’, in S. H. Nasr (ed.), The Study Quran: A New
Translation and Commentary, 1601–6, New York: HarperOne.
Makutoane, T. J., C. L. Miller-Naudé and J. A. Naudé (2015), ‘Similarity and Alterity in Translating
the Orality of the Old Testament in Oral Cultures’, Translation Studies, 8 (2): 156–174.
Marais, K. (2014), Translation Theory and Development Studies: A Complexity Theory
Approach, Routledge Advances in Translation Studies, London: Routledge.
Marais, K. (2019), A (Bio)Semiotic Theory of Translation: The Emergence of Socio-Cultural
Reality, London: Routledge.
Määttänen, P. (2007), ‘Semiotics of Space: Peirce and Lefebvre’, Semiotica, 166: 453–61.
MEANING-MAKING PROCESSES IN RELIGIOUS TRANSLATION 217
Mitchell, P. and S. Challis (2008), ‘A “First” Glimpse into the Maloti Mountains: The Diary of
James Murray Grant’s Expedition of 1873–74’, Southern African Humanities, 20: 399–461.
Naudé, J.A. (2010), ‘Religious Translation’, in Y. Gambier and L. van Doorslaer (eds),
Handbook of Translation Studies. Volume 1, 285–93, Amsterdam: Benjamins.
Naudé, J.A. (2018), ‘History of Translation Knowledge of Monotheistic Religions with
Written Traditions’, in L. D’Hulst and Y. Gambier (eds), A History of Modern Translation
Knowledge: Sources, Concepts, Effects, 389–95, Amsterdam: Benjamins.
Naudé, J.A. (2021), ‘Religious Texts and Oral Tradition’, in Y. Gambier and L. van Doorslaer
(eds), Handbook of Translation Studies. Volume 5, 191–8. Amsterdam: Benjamins.
Naudé, J. A. and C. L. Miller-Naudé (2016), ‘The Translation of biblion and biblos in the
Light of Oral and Scribal Practice’, In die Skriflig/In Luce Verbi, 50 (3): a2060. http://dx.doi.
org/10.4102/ids.v50i3.2060
Naudé, J. A. and C. L. Miller-Naudé (2018), ‘Sacred Writings’, in K. Washbourne and B. van
Wyke (eds), The Routledge Handbook of Literary Translation, 181–205, London: Routledge.
Nicholi, A. M. (2003), The Question of God, New York: Free Press.
Orpen, J. M. (1874), ‘A Glimpse into the Mythology of the Maluti Bushmen’, Cape Monthly
Magazine, 9 (49): 1–13.
Otto, R. (1959[1923/1917]), The Idea of the Holy: An Inquiry into the Non-Rational Factor in
the Idea of the Divine and Its Relation to the Rational, Harmondsworth: Penguin.
Padoan, T. (2021), ‘On the Semiotics of Space in the Study of Religions: Theoretical
Perspectives and Methodological Challenges’, in J. C. van Boom and T. A. Põder (eds), Sign,
Method, and the Sacred: New Directions in Semiotic Methodologies for the Study of Religion,
189–214, Berlin: De Gruyter.
Peirce, C. S. (1955), Philosophical Writings of Peirce, ed. Justus Buchler, New York: Dover.
Pew Research Center Forum. (2012), The Global Religious Landscape: A Report on the Size
and Distribution of the World’s Major Religious Groups as of 2010, Washington, DC:
Pew Research Center.
Rhoads, D. (2012), ‘The Art of Translating for Oral Performance’, in J. A. Maxey and E.
R. Wendland (eds), Translating Scripture for Sound and Performance: New Directions in
Biblical Studies, 22–48, Biblical Performance Criticism 6, Eugene, OR: Cascade Books.
Rowley, H. H. (1976[1967]), Worship in Ancient Israel: Its Forms and Meaning, London:
SPCK.
Sawyer, J. F. A. (1999), Sacred Languages and Sacred Texts. Religion in the First Christian
Centuries, London: Routledge.
Schreiner, P. (2016), ‘Space, Place and Biblical Studies: A Survey of Recent Research in Light of
Developing Trends’, Currents in Biblical Research, 14 (3): 340–71.
Smith, M. S. (2010), God in Translation: Deities in Cross-Cultural Discourse in the Biblical
World, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans.
Smith, M. S. (2016), Where the Gods Are: Spatial Dimensions of Anthropomorphism in the
Biblical World, New Haven: Yale University Press.
Soja, E. (1996), Thirdspace: Journeys to Los Angeles and Other Real-and-Imaged Places, Malden,
MA: Blackwell.
Soukup, P. A. and R. Hodgson (eds) (1997), From One Medium to Another: Communicating
the Bible through Multimedia, Kansas City: Sheed & Ward.
Stiebing, W. H., Jr. (2009), Ancient Near Eastern History and Culture, 2nd edn, New York:
Pearson Longman.
Verryn, T. D. (1982), Symbols and Scriptures, Johannesburg: McGraw-Hill.
218 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
Vinnicombe, P. (1975), ‘The Ritual Significance of Eland (Taurotragus oryx) in the Rock Art of
Southern Africa’, in E. Anati (ed.), Les religions de la Prehistoire [The Religions of Prehistoric
Times], 379–400, Capo di Ponte: Centro Communo di Studi Preistorici.
Vinnicombe, P. (1976), People of the Eland, Pietermaritzburg: University of Natal Press.
Walton, J. H. (2011), Genesis 1 as Ancient Cosmology, Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns.
Werner, J. R. (1997), ‘Musical Mimesis for Modern Media’, in P. A. Soukup and R. Hodgson
(eds), From One Medium to Another: Communicating the Bible through Multimedia, 221–8,
Kansas City: Sheed & Ward.
Wise, M. O. (1990), A Critical Study of the Temple Scroll from Qumran Cave 11, Studies in
Ancient Oriental Civilization 49, Chicago: The Oriental Institute.
Yadin, Y. (1983), The Temple Scroll, Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Translation between
Non-humans and Humans
XANY JANSEN VAN VUUREN
INTRODUCTION
This chapter explores the expansion of translation studies to incorporate not only
linguistic and non-linguistic processes of translation but also human and non-human
translators. In particular, it entails an exploration into how interspecies translation occurs
by means of the translation of species-specific Umwelten.1
Recent shifts in multiple disciplines have led to questions being asked about the
historically dominant centralizing of humans, and subsequent marginalizing of non-
humans, in ecology. This shift is partly a result of new findings in relation to cognitive
ethology, as well as an increased awareness of the welfare and agency of non-human
animals. For example, the cross-disciplinary acceptance of the ‘animal turn’ in humanities
and sciences (Swart 2010a; Kalof and Montgomery 2011; Andersson Cederholm et al.
2014) and shifts towards contemporary fields of study, such as ecolinguistics (Stibbe
2015), posthumanism (Wolfe 2010; Braidottti 2013; Roelvink and Zolkos 2015) and
ecofeminism (Buckingham 2004; Adams 2010), amongst many others have brought
about novel ways to think and speak about human/non-human relations.
Similarly, the fields of semiotics (Deely 1990; Sebeok 1990; Kull 1998a; Lindström
et al. 2011; Tønnessen 2011; Maran and Kull 2014) and translation studies (Marais and
Kull 2016; Cronin 2017; Marais 2019) have expanded their interest in semiosic and
translational processes beyond the human-centred approach. Considering this expansion,
the chapter explores the benefit of having an ecosemiotic theory as underpinning for
analysing translational processes. In particular this study will explore the interaction, and,
by extension, interpreting and translation, between humans and non-humans by referring
to human and equine Umwelten and their subsequent functional cycles in a particular
ecology. The ecology used as foundation for this study is a bi-weekly cart-horse welfare
outreach clinic in Thaba-Nchu, South Africa, organized by Blind Love Association, a
local equestrian-focused nonprofit organization. This clinic invites cart-horse owners to
bring their horses for free medical assessment and care and vaccinations, and provides
affordable food. Welfare workers, veterinarians, horse owners, horses and community
members from diverse cultural and socio-economic backgrounds need to communicate
with one another verbally and non-verbally at such events, and, as a result, both verbal
and non-verbal translational processes take place.
220 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
Therefore, by taking for granted that all semiosis entails translation (Marais 2019),
this chapter regards the semiosic processes that occur during interaction between humans
and non-humans in this particular ecology as processes of translation, by giving equal
consideration to the translational processes that occur during verbal and non-verbal
interpreting at these cart-horse clinics.
After a brief introduction to the complexity of horse-human relationships in South
Africa, I discuss translation and semiosis as corresponding processes, after which
I introduce the reader to concepts of ecology and ecosemiotics and the importance of
species-specific Umwelten in human/non-human interactions. The final section discusses
welfare workers’ attempts to translate between horse and human Umwelten.
Moreover, the past decade alone has seen a significant shift to referring to translation
and semiosis as corresponding processes (Petrilli 2015; 2016; Marais and Kull 2016;
Cronin 2017; Marais 2019). Susan Petrilli, for instance, suggests that ‘[t]he question of
translation cannot be limited to the question of the relation among different historical-
natural languages’ (2016), and that translation ultimately involves the process of semiosis.
If something is a sign, it is because it can be translated (Petrilli 2016: 23). In an earlier
publication, Petrilli (2011) explains that a sign is a sign due to its otherness; because it
always becomes an other in semiosis. In an attempt to explain how translation can enable
an understanding of not only the human other but also the non-human other, Marais
conceptualized a biosemiotic theory of translation within which he likewise argues that
translation is ultimately semiosis (2019), and that translation ‘underlies all semiotic
processes equally’ (2019: 52). The implication of this statement is, then, that both
humans and non-humans participate in translational processes. This theory introduces
the undeniable substance of the non-human to translation processes. Including animals
in studying translation, Marais argues, could broaden our views of animals, since the
aim of translation (and interpreting, by extension) is ultimately to mediate difference
and understand the other. Marais argues that ‘[i]n a post-humanist paradigm of thinking,
where humans are no longer regarded as the center of either the universe or earth,
it is crucial that a theory of translation is able to explain, not only human semiosis,
but also non-human semiosis’ (2019: 49). His theory, then, not only emphasizes the
importance of the human and non-human as others in terms of meaning-making but also
contributes to the increasingly growing field of inter-species translation studies, since
this theory proposes that, ‘apart from Tom, Dick and Harry, Fido and Puss in Boots
also communicate, but so do bacteria, cells, plants and all animals’ (Marais 2021: 102).
The notion of the other is relevant not merely for translation on an individual level but
on the level of translation of knowledge as well. For instance, from an ecotranslational
perspective, Cronin explains that human/non-human connectedness is made possible
through translation, where ‘[t]he human is inconceivable without the non-human other’
(Cronin 2017: 71). Cronin’s view of translation, in this instance, is that of reintroducing
the agency of the non-human as a way of understanding human impact on the non-
human. One of the key contributions that an expanded approach to translation studies
is able to make, then, is that of understanding not only the individual other but also the
non-human other as a whole field of knowledge that needs translation.
Several other scholars have addressed human/non-human relations within the broader
fields of translation studies, indicating that a growing understanding of the non-verbal
and non-human agents and actors within translation processes could enable the study
of translational processes to engage with and explore beyond that which is familiar
(i.e. human language). Such fields of study include ecologically oriented approaches
to interpreting and translation in fields of biotranslation (Kull and Torop 2011),
ecotranslation (Cronin 2017), biosemiotics (Kull et al. 2008; Marais and Kull 2016) and
ecosemiotics (Maran 2020), which have provided insight into human-animal and animal-
animal communication and translation.
Parallel to these fields, there has been a gradual increase in interest in translation
between humans and non-humans outside of translation studies. Temple Grandin
(Grandin and Johnson 2005), for instance, draws on the fields of biology and psychology
to account for translation between humans and animals. She approaches animal behaviour,
and the translation thereof, through her autism, and argues that autistic people have
specific skills and experiences that enable them to understand non-human animals better
222 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
and, therefore, able to translate the animal’s point of view. Her idea of the translator is
not one of a neutral conveyer of a message but rather as partner in the communication
process. The translator is there to help the animal, in order for humans to understand
animal behaviour better.
Conversely, an animal can act as a translator by utilizing the animal’s unique
perception systems for the benefit of the human. There are many examples that can be
mentioned here, from bomb-sniffing rats who locate landmines, dogs that can sniff out
specific cancers, to the relationship of a seeing-eye dog and its human. Their relationships
‘rel[y] on the perception, cognition and communicative abilities of a non-human being’
on behalf of a human being (Magnus 2016: 268).
In his book on ecotranslation, Michael Cronin (2017) discusses the translational
processes involving animals, amongst other processes and agents, from within the
framework of the Anthropocene. In the Anthropocene, in which the impact of humans
on the ecology is regarded as that of a geological force, the purpose of translation,
he argues, is ultimately an ecological responsibility towards the environment. Through
translation from the non-human into something human-like, or at the very least, into
human consciousness, humans will be able to understand the non-human, Cronin
argues. However, the way in which the non-human ecology is translated by the human
for the human currently is problematic, as the actual concern for the non-human entities
in the ecology is not being translated. In the section in Cronin’s book on animals in
translation, he provides a thorough background and discussion of the studies that
have proved that animal communication and consequently animal cognition take place
and ‘are vital to the functioning and survival of a multiplicity of species’ (2017: 76).
When referring to what the role of translation and translational exploration within the
broader human/non-human context could be, Cronin names three relevant elements
that require attention: the rehabilitation of the animal subject, engaging difference and
cross-species agency.
Regarding the rehabilitation of the animal subject, Cronin indicates that the
mobilization of translation is needed to construct a notion of animal subjectivity. He
argues that ‘the exploration of different forms of animal communication must be
accounted an urgent task in terms of according other sentient beings not only the dignity
of just or equal treatment, but of developing a sense of post-anthropocentric relatedness’
(Cronin 2017: 77). Therefore, animals need to be reconsidered as subjects, as opposed
to the objects they have become, and in terms of animal welfare work, such as these cart-
horse clinics, one of the purposes of the clinics should be to attempt to re-establish this
subjectivity.
Through engaging difference, Cronin argues that if translation is not approached
thoughtfully, it might intensify oppression of non-human animals. An example he uses
is the anthropomorphism of fictional animal characters, such as Peppa Pig, Minnie and
Mickey Mouse, and Winnie the Pooh. While the intention was probably to create some
form of familiarity with the subject, it removes the ‘animalness’ from the animal. Or, in
other words, the animal agency of the animal. Carol Adams approaches a similar topic
from the point of ecofeminism in her book on the sexual politics of meat. She talks of the
sexualization of animals and the products that they become (Adams 2010).
The importance of inter-species translational ethics is encompassed in Cronin’s
discussion of the third element: that of cross-species agency (2017: 83), in particular,
with regard to the human contribution to ecological destructiveness, alongside which
TRANSLATION BETWEEN NON-HUMANS AND HUMANS 223
to ‘connect, mediate, and translate different sign systems and structural levels of semiotic
systems in culture-nature relations’ (Maran 2007: 279).
Over and above their interdependence, both fields share some similarities. Both
highlight the importance of studying systems ‘and distinctions, influences, interrelations
and equilibriums in [such systems]’ (Maran 2007). Moreover, both are disciplines of
relation and relatedness, a trait that is regarded as fundamentally important for both
fields. With ecology, the relationships between organisms and their environment are
studied, while in semiotics, the ‘classical concept of sign itself expresses a certain type of
relation’ (Maran 2007).
Ultimately, an ecosemiotic study of translational processes regards human and non-
human sign systems in a particular ecology as equally significant. In this way, the involvement
of the ‘human’ allows for an understanding of how the environment is determined by
models that have developed in a particular human culture and cultural history, while the
involvement of the ‘non-human’ is because ‘the orientation of organisms in pre-human
life equally involves environmental semiosis’ (Nöth 2001). The sign processes all take
place in a shared ecology, of which the ‘[t]he collective whole forms an interlocking
network of irreducibly semiotic relations, many of which are physical as well as objective,
[while others] are purely objective in specifically diverse patterns’ (Deely 1990).
Based on the earlier discussion of sign processes as translation, an ecosemiotic
approach to translation in a particular ecology would imply that the latter consists of a
variety of translational processes that are continuously and simultaneously taking place
between and within all the participants. Such an approach would, thus, make it possible to
observe and analyse multi-species translation. In the case of the outreach clinic involved
in this study, observation of interactions between humans and non-humans found that
translational processes occur continuously between humans and humans, non-humans
and non-humans, as well as humans and non-humans. For instance, one of the most
prevalent instances of translation occurred when welfare workers translated the effect
of specific symptoms to horse owners. An example is the intersemiotic translation of
pain. Horses in pain would react to (in particular) human touch and general presence
with hostility and restlessness – behaviour that many horse owners misinterpreted as
obstinance and stubbornness. The owners reacted by reprimanding the horses verbally
or physically, particularly by means of jerking the harnesses or tightening the reins. The
translation of these actions by welfare workers as expressions of pain, rather than mere
obstinance, resulted in immediate better welfare for the horses, as well as better horse-
human relationships.
The premise of the Umwelt theory holds that all organisms in an ecology are subjects
and not objects of said ecology, and, furthermore, that they experience the world based
on their own species-specific biological modelling devices (such as their senses). This
results in each subject creating its own subjective experiential world through the process
of semiosis. An Umwelt is, as Kull summarizes it, ‘the semiotic world of [an] organism …,
uniting all the semiotic processes of an organism into a whole’ (Kull 1998a). It is the
subjective, meaningful world of any particular species of organisms, and animals are
actively semiotically involved in (and creating) the ecology in which they find themselves.
The Umwelt theory, furthermore, implies that an organism can physiologically only relate
to and observe the things in its immediate environment that would influence its survival
and functioning in a particular environment.
Ecosemiotically speaking, a significant part of the relationship between an organism
and its environment lies ‘in the properties and patterns of the environment – what
TRANSLATION BETWEEN NON-HUMANS AND HUMANS 225
resources and perceptually accessible qualities the given environment provides to which
the animal can relate’ (Maran 2020: 6). While the same ecology is often shared by a
variety of species, and subsequently potentially provides ‘support, shelter, food, nesting
place, …, [this] same environment can afford different things to different species’
(Maran 2020: 6) due to the difference in individual Umwelten. The fact that humans
have created ecologies where species would otherwise not have interacted means that
the communication between these organisms is often mistranslated, since the different
‘sensory receptors possessed by different species of animals means that some forms of
communication are available to them that are not available to other species’ (Cronin
2017: 81). This means that translation is needed for the different species to understand
one another, or, at the very least, for humans to understand the non-humans that they
bring into their shared space.
As active and selective participants within a particular ecology, organisms interpret
their environments through a process known as a functional cycle. The concept of
the functional cycle was initially coined by biologist Jakob von Uexküll to account for
the process through which all species of organisms interact with and construct their
environments by means of their own sign processes. More specifically, the functional
cycle is the mechanism of Umwelt-building (Kull 2001). It is the essence of the ‘bond
between an organism and its corresponding Umwelt’ (Clements 2016), and refers to the
‘whole of discrete and combined sensory and action processes’ (Kull 2010) that form the
functional world of the organism. Relationality is of particular substance in the functional
cycle, in which ‘the relation between a living being and an outer environmental object
[consists] of two complementary processes – perception and effect’ (Maran et al. 2016).
These processes are constantly put to work through each living being’s meaning-making
activity, during which perception, interpretation and consequent feedback takes place.
Understanding the process of the functional cycle enables continuous analyses ‘of the
different relations that animals have with the objects in their environments, with other
animals of the same or different species, and between animals and humans’ (Maran et al.
2016). In the cart-horse ecology, this would imply that humans and horses are constantly
analysing and making sense of each other and their environment based on their perceptual
cues. Each environment (or ecology), according to Von Uexküll, forms ‘a self-enclosed
unit, which is governed in all its parts by its meaning for the subject’ (2010: 144), in
which constant and continuous meaning-making processes take place on various levels.
In the cart-horse outreach clinic ecology, this would include (amongst other elements)
visual, tactile and auditory perception by all organisms. Generally, the functional cycles
that are the most prevalent and important are those of medium, nourishment, enemy
and sex (Von Uexküll 2010). While this would be the case in more natural ecologies, the
functional cycles of the organisms in this particular outreach clinic ecology that facilitate
human/non-human relations (which could possibly be linked to nourishment, partners
and enemy) are more prevalent.
Particularly significant here is that the concept of the functional cycle ‘allows for
analyses of the different relations that animals have with the objects in their environments,
with other animals of the same or different species, and between animals and humans’
(Von Uexküll 2010: 144). In this regard, Von Uexküll refers to a particular quality of
an object in a particular environment. For instance, a book has a ‘reading quality’, and a
knife has a ‘slicing quality’. However, these qualities are imparted by particular subjects
on a particular object. A dog, therefore, would not impart a reading quality on a book,
or a slicing quality on a knife, but rather a possible ‘chewing quality’ on the book, and
226 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
‘pain quality’ on the knife. These qualities have, therefore, been assigned meanings by the
interpreters of these artefacts through a translational process.
To explain what is meant by this, Von Uexküll (2010: 143) uses an example of a flower
in a meadow, which, in its physical structure, is the same, but differs in its meaning to
various organisms. In other words, particular qualities are imparted by various organisms:
The role of the meaning carrier (in this case the flower) changes to suit each meaning
utilizer. The properties are different, while the structure stays the same. Part of their
properties, according to Von Uexküll, serve the subject as perception cue carriers, and
another as effector cue carriers. For the girl, the colour of the flower serves as perception
cue carrier, and the taste (and probably, smell) of the flower serves as the perception cue
carrier for the cow. The effector cue carrier terminates the perception cue carrier. Once
the flower has been picked, it becomes an ornament, or eaten, it becomes fodder. The
term “functional cycle” is descriptive of the process, ‘[s]ince every action [that connects
the carrier of the meaning with the subject] begins with the production of a perception
mark and ends with the impression of an effect mark on the same carrier of meaning’
(Von Uexküll 2010: 145), thus, creating a cycle. Since the outreach clinic is not a natural
ecology but created by humans, various qualities are imposed on various participants.
While in a natural ecology a horse would have a ‘nourishment quality’ for a predator, it
has a range of possible qualities in the outreach clinic setting. For one human it could be
‘load bearing’ quality, a ‘speed’ quality and, eventually, possibly, ‘nourishment’ quality,
while for another it could be a ’pet’ quality, or ‘recreational’ quality.
In an approach to observing human/animal interaction and consequent translation
between Umwelten within the framework of studying human representations of animals,
‘we should also be aware that our perception and understanding of animals is biased by
our own Umwelt structure’ (Maran et al. 2016: 14), and that ‘[m]any features, forms of
communication, modalities and, indeed, even entire species are often underrepresented
since they are not present in our Umwelten’ (Maran et al. 2016: 14). Translation between
Umwelten could, thus, assist in recognizing the possibility of exploring the Umwelten of
other organisms removed from humans’ own Umwelten. In animal welfare, for instance, a
welfare worker facilitating the translation of Umwelten between humans and non-humans
(in this case, horses) could significantly improve the living conditions, and possibly even
the survival rate, of a particular non-human.
2016: 113–14). Rather than mere representation, he states, humans are able to present
a world and change their Umwelt into a world that they could inhabit and respond to.
One reason for this could be that, in contrast to non-human animals, humans are aware
of their Umwelten as Umwelten. That is to say that while ‘animals communicate and are
aware of their surroundings, [they are not aware] of their surroundings as surroundings,
[or] their Umwelt as an Umwelt’ (Bains 2001). Furthermore, humans can, due to an
alternate form of modelling, experience multiple worlds (Petrilli 2016). Building on
earlier work by Kull (2010) and Sebeok (1990; 1991), Petrilli discusses the process of
semiosis that takes place on two levels in any living species: semiosis for modelling (in
other words, the semiosis that takes place for the species to internally understand the
environment); and semiosis for communication, based on a particular species-given
Umwelt. Thus, Petrilli argues, modelling and communication are two different types of
semiosis, but both are essentially translation processes.
This implies that the human Umwelt has placed us in an unusual position where, in
instances where humans are unable to physically adapt to, or function optimally within,
an environment, we see the advantage of utilizing the capabilities of other species to
do so. For instance, by taking a historical look at one contribution (amongst many) of
horses to human development, the use of horses as means of transport prior to the use
of cars enabled humans to traverse vast ranges in short amounts of time. Horses, thus,
inadvertently changed the human ‘experience of speed and the meaning of distance’
(Swart 2010b: 245). Similarly, cart-horses in Thaba Nchu are acquired for their ability
to pull heavy loads at relative speed. Therefore, since humans are aware (to a certain
extent) of other species’ Umwelten (while not particularly referring to it by this name)
and consequent physical abilities, humans are able to exploit other species in order to
function and strive in a particular environment.
Nevertheless, there are palpable constraints in horse and human biological Umwelten,
which do not necessarily overlap to the extent that humans think they do. Ecologically,
a horse is traditionally an herbivorous prey animal. As a result, their Umwelt would be
focused on avoiding predators and finding grazing. Based on their need to survive attacks
by predators, their strongest senses are their sense of smell, hearing and, to a lesser extent,
sight. Where humans have a very superficial olfactory ability, horses are able to smell a
wide variety of experiences, including emotions, sexuality, enemies and places (Swart
2010b). Their ‘nasal vision’, as Swart refers to it, enables them to see not only ‘through
space but also time’ (Swart 2010b: 256), since olfactory information remains behind
after the source of the information is no longer in the vicinity (Saslow 2002: 213). The
importance of certain qualities of olfactory information also differs for the sexes, as well
as for gelded and non-gelded horses. Communication with a horse at these outreach
clinics often started with allowing the horse to smell the human’s hand. Horses eagerly
engaged with this initiation of interaction from humans by sniffing the hands and visibly
relaxing, thereby enabling physical assessments of the horse’s health to continue with
few problems.
This action, of allowing the horse to sniff a human hand, is also indirectly linked to
the understanding of the eyesight of the horse, which is substantially different from that
of humans: horses’ vision has primarily evolved, as with other prey animals, more ‘for
detection of predator approach from any angle than for accurate visual identification of
stationary objects’ (Saslow 2002: 209). It is, therefore, generally accepted that horses
primarily rely on other senses to make sense of their immediate environment. In horse-
human relations, such as instances where a horse is pulling a cart or being ridden, the horse
228 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
(due to its eyesight being poorly adapted to the environment) is very much dependent
on the translation of the immediate environment by humans (through their visual acuity)
through means of reins, voice, touch and even whips. In the Thaba Nchu cart-horse
context, horses are often donned with eye-blinkers (also referred to as blinders) to restrict
a horse’s vision and to limit distractions while the horse is pulling a cart. However, horses
that regularly move around in urban settings (such as the cart-horses of Thaba Nchu)
become accustomed to the movement around them. The blinkers, therefore, merely
restrict the already restricted eyesight even further. Welfare workers at the clinic have
made concerted efforts to explain this to horse owners, with mixed results. The reasons
for their failure to persuade the owners are probably due to a mistranslation between
Umwelten; as with most primates, humans rely ‘very heavily on our excellent high-acuity
daytime vision for distance information, object recognition, sexual attraction, kin/friend
identification, and non-verbal communication of emotion’ (Saslow 2002: 212), and are
often unaware that other mammals (such as horses) have completely different eyesight.
CONCLUSION
Given the current post-human, post-Anthropocentric era, an alternative approach
to translation and interpreting is not only necessary but also a reality. Accordingly,
approaching and analysing ecologies within the framework of an ecosemiotic theory
allows for an understanding of these ecologies as the sum of various Umwelten that
interact in them. Doing so, in turn, allows for an understanding of the translational
processes that flow between various species in a particular ecology. Settings, like the cart-
horse clinic outreach ecology, should ultimately be understood as a sum of (in this case,
human and horse) Umwelten, and the consequent translation between organisms that
these settings afford. An ecosemiotic framework allows for the exploration of theories
such as the Umwelt theory. It is through the Umwelt theory, then, that the need for
interspecies translation in such settings can be understood and approached, since the
subjective experience of the outreach clinic of the horse is not the same as the subjective
experience of the human.
Furthermore, an ecosemiotic approach to understanding the translational processes in
a particular ecology would imply both translational processes between the organisms and
their interaction with the ecology are being translated.
Lastly, such an approach to studying interpreting and translation processes can also
enable us to question how human and animal cultural aspects impact the translation
processes (of both human and non-human participants) within a particular ecology.
In other words, how the human and non-human Umwelten create the constraints and
affordances that allow for translation to take place.
NOTE
1 An Umwelt refers to the species specific, subjective experiential world that all organisms
physiologically relate to and observe.
REFERENCES
Adams, C. J. (2010), The Sexual Politics of Meat, New York: Continuum.
TRANSLATION BETWEEN NON-HUMANS AND HUMANS 229
Andersson Cederholm, E., A. Björck, K. Jennbert and A. S. Lönngren (eds) (2014), Exploring
the Animal Turn: Human-Animal Relations in Science, Society and Culture, Lund: The
Pufendorf Institute for Advanced Studies.
Bains, P. (2001), ‘Umwelten’, Semiotica, 134 (1/4): 137–67.
Braidottti, R. (2013), The Posthuman, Cambridge: Polity Press.
Buckingham, S. (2004), ‘Ecofeminism in the Twenty-First Century’, The Geographical Journal,
170 (2).
Clements, M. (2016), ‘The Circle and the Maze: Two Images of Ecosemiotics’, Sign Systems
Studies, 44 (1): 69–93.
Cronin, M. (2017a), Eco-translation: Translation and Ecology in the Age of the Anthropocene,
Oxon & New York: Routledge.
Cronin, M. (2017b), Eco-translation: Translation and Ecology in the Age of the Anthropocene,
Oxon: Routledge.
Deely, J. N. (1990), Basics of Semiotics, ed. T. A. Sebeok, Bloomington: Indiana University
Press.
Drenthen, M. (2016), ‘Understanding the Meaning of Wolf Resurgence, Ecosemiotics and
Landscape Hermeneutics’, in M. Tønnessen, K. Armstrong Oma and S. Rattasepp (eds),
Thinking about Animals in the Age of the Anthropocene, 109–26, Lanham: Lexington Books.
Grandin, T. and C. Johnson (2005), Animals in Translation: Using the Mysteries of Autism to
Decode Animal Behavior, New York: Scribner.
Haeckel, E. (1866), Generelle Morphologie der Organismen. Allgemeine Grundzüge der
organischen Formen-Wissenschaft, mechanische Begründet durch die von Charles Darwin
reformirte Descendenz-Theorie [General Morphology of Organisms: General Foundations
of Form-science, Mechanically Grounded by the Descendance Theory Reformed by Charles
Darwin], Berlin: Georg Reimer.
Kalof, L. and G. M. Montgomery (2011), Making Animal Meaning, East Lansing: Michigan
State University Press.
Kull, K. (1998a), ‘On Semiosis, Umwelt, and the Semiosphere’, Semiotica, 120 (3/4): 299–310.
Kull, K. (1998b), ‘Semiotic Ecology: Different Natures in the Semiosphere’, Sign Systems
Studies, 26: 344–71.
Kull, K. (2001), ‘Jakob von Uexküll: An Introduction’, Semiotica, 134 (1/4): 1–59.
Kull, K. (2010), ‘Umwelt and Modelling’, in P. Cobley (ed.), The Routledge Companion to
Semiotics, 43–56, New York: Routledge.
Kull, K., C. Emmeche and D. Favareau (2008), ‘Biosemiotic Questions’, Biosemiotics, 1: 41–55.
Kull, K. and P. Torop (2011), ‘Biotranslation: Translation between Umwelten’, in T. Maran,
D. Martinelli and A. Turovski (eds), Readings in Zoosemiotics, 411–25, Berlin: De Gruyter
Mouton.
Lindström, K., K. Kull and H. Palang (2011), ‘Semiotic Study of Landscapes: An Overview
from Semiology to Ecosmiotics’, Sign Systems Studies, 39 (2/4): 12–36.
Mäekivi, N. and T. Maran (2016), ‘Semiotic Dimensions of Human Attitudes towards Other
Animals: A Case of Zoological Gardens’, Sign Systems Studies, 44 (1/2): 209–30.
Magnus, R. (2016), ‘The Semiotic Challenges of Guide Dog Teams: The Experiences of
German, Estonian and Swedish Guide Dog Users’, Biosemiotics, 9: 267–85.
Marais, K. (2019), A (Bio)Semiotic Theory of Translation. The Emergence of Social Cultural
Reality, New York: Routledge.
Marais, K. (2021), ‘Tom, Dick and Harry as Well as Fido and Puss in Boots Are Translators: The
Implications of Biosemiotics for Translation Studies’, in O. C. Cortés and E. Monzó-Nebot
230 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
Translation in Intermedial
Studies
JOÃO QUEIROZ, ANA PAULA VITORIO AND
ANA LUIZA FERNANDES
THE PROBLEM
Since Roman Jakobson (1959) defined intersemiotic translation, it has been approached
from several perspectives and theoretical frames. In interarts and in intermediality
studies, intersemiotic translation is described as medial transposition or as intermedial
reference, as proposed by Irina Rajewsky (2005), who has developed several categories
to describe intermedial phenomena. For Claus Clüver (2006), intersemiotic translation
is transformation and adaptation. According to Werner Wolf (2002), it can be described
as not only sub-classes of extracompositional intermediality, such as transmediality and
intermedial transposition, but also as intracompositional processes, such as intermedial
references. Lars Elleström (2010, 2013, 2019) and also John Bateman (2019) have
more recently preferred the terms ‘transmediation’ and ‘representation’ to describe the
phenomenon of transmediality. João Queiroz and colleagues approach intersemiotic
translation as a ‘sign in action’ and a cognitive artefact, based on Peirce’s theory of
mind as semiosis. There are, however, several problems with such terminological and
conceptual variability. Although there are many connections between these concepts, a
preliminary topography of the relationships is still quite obscure. We do not even know if
we are dealing with a terminological dispute that has many methodological and epistemic
implications, or if the problem is trickier, and we are dealing with different phenomena.
Additionally, the concepts overlap in many ways, producing remarkable confusion.
What we will do in this chapter can be considered a basic step in the direction of
developing a map of relationships between different concepts concerning intersemiotic
translation in intermediality studies. We introduce some fundamental notions of the
mentioned authors and try to establish certain relationships between them.
INTRODUCTION
Our idea here is to approach the phenomenon of translation from within the broader field
of intermediality studies. Therefore, before starting, it is necessary to define the area, even
if very introductorily. There are several, and divergent, definitions for ‘intermediality’,
232 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
both as a phenomenon and as a field of research. We present just a few here to contextualize
the problem. According to Clüver (2007: 9), intermediality is a ‘somewhat recent term
for a phenomenon that can be found in all cultures and periods, both in everyday life
and in every cultural activity we call “art”. As a concept, “termediality” comprehends
all types of interrelationship and interaction between media’. Concerning a field of
research, Rajewsky (2005: 44) emphasizes that, ‘from its beginnings, “intermediality”
has served as an umbrella-term’, thereby gathering studies and analyses of media and of
the relationships between them. As a phenomenon, it has various definitions, depending
on the subareas and research aims. Rajewsky (in Ghirardi et al. 2020: 13) is among the
authors who observe that ‘studies in inter- and trans-mediality, mediation, remediation,
and adaptation, just to name a few examples, have in common the interest in studying
different media and their relation to new forms of creation of meaning in contemporary
societies’. On the other hand, in relation to understanding that intermedial relations can
be found in all forms of communication, Elleström (2019) states that intermediality, or
intermedial studies, should not be understood as any research on intermedial relations
but rather as a field designed to disentangle the complexity of intermedial relations.
Approaching intermediality from an historical viewpoint, Müller argues that the ‘term
intermediality leads us back to the game of “being in-between” – a game that compares
various values and/or parameters. It takes us to the material and ideal differences
between the persons and objects represented – the materiality of media’ (2010a: 18).
Although this author also proposes a general categorization of intermedial phenomena,
one of his important contributions to the field is his ability to identify a problem that
still remains unsolved. Müller points out that ‘one of the crucial questions – if not the
crucial question – of any study of media encounters or of intermediality is the question
of how to conceive of a ‘medium’(2010b: 237). For Müller, the basis of intermediality
studies still requires an adequate concept of media that is capable of connecting several
approaches – oscillating between (neo)formalist, post-structuralist, sociological, aesthetic,
discursive, and historical foundations (Müller 2010a: 17). Although we do not delve into
the problem of defining the medium in this chapter, we agree with Müller when he states
that ‘a semiological and functional concept of media, relating media to socio-cultural and
historical processes, still seems to be the most helpful framing for any sort of intermedial
research’ (2010b: 238). Since the field does not yet provide us with a fully established
definition for medium, in this chapter we address the problem and approach translation
phenomena only under the conditions the authors covered in the following sections.
panorama, Rajewsky describes her own work as an effort to introduce ‘narrowly defined
subcategories of intermediality’ (2005: 49–50), even when it comes to a broad range of
phenomena and a wide variety of intermedial qualities. Following historicity criteria,
Rajewsky (2005) elaborates on classificatory types of intermediality, and pays attention
to synchronic level. This combination interests us, especially because there are, among the
categories she developed, those that refer to translation processes between media.
Rajewsky considers that media settings focus ‘on concrete medial configurations
and their specific intermedial qualities’, and that ‘[t]hese qualities vary from one group
of phenomena to another and therefore call for different, narrower conceptions of
intermediality (2005: 51). She discerns groups of intermedial phenomena that address
the notion of ‘crossing of borders between media’ (Rajewsky 2005: 50).
If the use of intermediality as a category for the description and analysis of particular
phenomena is to be productive, we should therefore distinguish groups of phenomena,
each of which exhibits a distinct intermedial quality and – what is even more important
in the present context – a particular way of crossing media borders. This allows for
drawing distinctions between individual subcategories of intermediality and for
developing a uniform theory for each of them.
(Rajewsky 2010: 55)
Of the three subcategories she develops, two directly interest us: medial transposition
and intermedial reference. Medial transposition is the ‘genetic’ process of transforming
a composed text into another medium according to the material possibilities and the
current conventions of this new medium. In these cases, the ‘original’ text (a short story,
a film, a painting, etc.) is the source of the new text in the other media – considered the
target text. Rajewsky describes this process as ‘obligatorily intermediated’ (2005: 51).
The concept of media transformation applies to the process called adaptation, usually
for a multimedia system (cinema novel, opera play, ballet fairy tale, etc.), where the new
text preserves elements of the source text (excerpts from the dialogue, characters, plot,
situations, point of view, etc.). She observes that, in this case,
the intermedial quality has to do with the way in which a media product comes into
being, i.e., with the transformation of a given media product (a text, a film, etc.) or of
its substratum into another medium. This category is a production-oriented, ‘genetic’
conception of intermediality; the ‘original’ text, film, etc. is the ‘source’ of the newly
formed media product, whose formation is based on a media-specific and obligatory
inter-medial transformation process.
(Rajewsky 2005: 51)
can a musical setting of a lyric poem be considered an adaptation of the lyrics to the
medium of music? What is the relation of an opera libretto to its literary source and
to the opera as performed? Is the use of a preexisting composition in an advertisement
on television or radio an instance of adaptation? How does this process compare to the
adaptation of a Shakespearean play to the Kabuki stage?
(Clüver 2017: 463)
Clüver deals with these topics separately and classifies the phenomena as belonging to
three types – media combination, intermedial reference and intermedial transposition
or transformation – thereby indicating that they overlap in different ways among the
observed phenomena. This classification appears in several of his works, often associated
with examples of adaptation from operas and theatrical dance, to concrete and visual
poetry. For Clüver, ‘illustration, transposition into instrumental music or dance,
adaptation, and ekphrasis’ (Clüver 2017: 459) are often included in the third category
(intermedial transposition or transformation). According to him, ‘adaptation is a process
that may involve many different media, both as source and as target media’ (Clüver
2017: 460). He claims that ‘the term [adaptation] seems best used to cover the process
(and its results) of adjusting a specific source text to the requirements and possibilities
of another medium in such a way that parts of it are retained and incorporated in the
resultant new text [medial configuration]’ (Clüver 2009 [1992]: 464). Recently, Clüver
expanded this concept: ‘I would now enlarge this formulation to include the adaptation of
genres, the imitation in a different medium of formal features or compositional strategies
employed in specific configurations, as well as the idea of intramedial adaptation’ (Clüver
2017: 464).
TRANSLATION IN INTERMEDIAL STUDIES 235
Regarding the best known mechanisms associated with the relationship between
source and target, Clüver draws attention to the importance of a focus on the differences
between the source text and the target text in cases of adaptation, in which neither the
process nor the final results are the same: ‘we speak of adaptation when a narrative is
turned into a play or a movie, or a play into an opera. Stories can be transposed into
comic strips, and fairy tales into ballets; but in these two instances neither the process
nor the end results are alike’ (Clüver 2017: 463). Such transpositions can also occur from
word to image (e.g., graphic illustrations), from word to music (e.g., tone poems, but
not songs), from the visual arts to music and vice versa, besides other media. Most
frequently, however, is the adaptation of texts to a different medium, where elements
of the source text are carried over into the target text.
(Clüver 2007: 24)
Intermedial reference
Intermedial reference is one of the two subforms of intracompositional intermediality
that concerns intermediality in a narrower sense, according to Wolf’s proposal. The
most important difference between such phenomena and extracompositional ones is
that, in cases of intermedial reference, involvement of one medium with another ‘is
discernible within the work in question’ (Wolf 2011: 5). Contrasting to transmediality
and intermedial transposition, intermedial relation is, furthermore, an integral part of the
‘signification’ (Wolf 2011: 5) of a work. In opposition to the plurimediality (other of the
two intracompositional types), intermedial reference ‘does not give the impression of a
medial hybridity of the signifiers, nor of a heterogeneity of the semiotic systems used’;
rather, it represents ‘a medial and semiotic homogeneity and thus qualifies as “covert”
intracompositional intermediality’ (Wolf 2011: 5). According to Wolf (2011: 5), it
happens because intermedial references ‘operate exclusively on the basis of the signifiers
of the dominant4 “source” medium and can incorporate only signifiers of another medium
where these are already a part of the source medium’. If, in intermedial transpositions,
the target works have some autonomy to be interpreted without considering the source
works, in cases of references, the intermedial process is ‘part of the signification of the
work in which such references occur and is, therefore, a requisite for an understanding of
the work’ (Wolf 2011: 5).
Wolf’s notion of intermedial reference comprises two main subforms: ‘intermedial
thematization’ and ‘explicit reference’. For Wolf (2011: 6), ‘heteromedial reference
resides in the signifieds of the referring semiotic complex, while its signifiers are employed
in the usual way and do not contribute to heteromedial imitation’. Heteromedial reference
concerns a phenomenon frequently observed in the verbal media, and it often happens
when some medium (or some work produced in a determined medium) is mentioned,
discussed or somehow ‘thematized’ in a text. Articles and essays on intermediality are
238 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
examples of explicit reference, as are the novels that describe paintings, photographic
images, pieces of music, etc. ‘Implicit reference’ (or ‘intermedial imitation’) is the second
subform. Wolf differentiates ways and intensity degrees of this type (2002, 2009, 2011).
According to this model, ‘partial reproduction’ (Wolf 2011: 6) is the first level of implicit
reference and it can be observed, for example, when quotations of song texts occur in
novels. Next is ‘evocation’ (Wolf 2011: 6), and includes ekphrasis as an exemplary case
(which can also be thematization). At a higher level is ‘formal imitation’ (Wolf 2011:
6) – an important phenomenon in Wolf’s view, as it concerns a type in which ‘the
intermedial signification’ consists of ‘the effect of a particularly unusual iconic use of the
signs of the source medium’ (Wolf 2011: 6). An important feature of formal imitation
is its ‘attempt at shaping the material of the semiotic complex in question … in such a
manner that it acquires a formal resemblance to typical features or structures of another
medium or heteromedial work’ (Wolf 2011: 6). Examples of formal imitation include the
reproduction of a sonata form in a poem, the ‘musicalization’ (Wolf 2011) of a novel and
the use of cinematographic patterns, as montage methods, to structure a graphic novel. It
seems to be Wolf’s type that comes closest to what Jakobson (1959) called ‘intersemiotic
translation’.
Transmediation
Transmediation is a type of intermedial process in which it is possible to observe ‘repeated
representation of media traits’ (Elleström 2019: 3). In recent works (see Elleström 2017,
2019), this seems to be a development of his earlier notion of ‘mediation’ (Elleström
2010: 28), used to describe processes in which ‘a technical medium’ ‘harbour[s] media
products’ (Elleström 2019: 4). Following this suggestion, we could consider that a piece
of paper is a technical medium able to mediate several kinds of media products, such as
poems, drawings, scientific articles, musical scores, food recipes, bar charts and maps,
and to mediate several kinds of qualified media, such as literature, comics, painting and
newspapers. Elleström (2019: 4) states that, when ‘equivalent sensory configurations
(sensory configurations that have the capacity to trigger corresponding representations)
are mediated for a second (or third or fourth) time and by another type of technical
medium, they are transmediated’. If a poem, or a piece of news, is read out loud, for
example, it is transmediated by another type of technical medium with different sensory
configurations (it is heard instead of seen/read). If this poem, or this news, could be
read as a photographed object, it would be transmediated once more. In this case, the
photographic image would become one of its technical media.
TRANSLATION IN INTERMEDIAL STUDIES 239
Representation
Media representation refers to intermedial processes in which one medium represents
another one. Elleström (2019: 4) defines it as ‘a medium present[ing] another medium
to the mind of a communicatee’. As a kind of media transformation, representation
concerns cases of a ‘medium, which is something that represents something in a context
of communication, becomes represented itself’ (Elleström 2019: 4). Representation and
transmediation are notions that can be understood better when they are compared to each
other. Transmediation can be considered something ‘about “picking out” elements from a
medium and using them in a new way in another medium’, and media representation can
be described as ‘about “pointing to” a medium from the viewpoint of another medium’
(Elleström 2019: 4). When a film includes a theatre performance, we are talking about
a transmedial process that is predominantly a media representation. In its turn, ‘a film
whose story closely resembles that of a theatrical play should instead be understood in
terms of transmediation’ (Elleström 2019: 5).
It is also possible to say transmediation refers to cases of two or more works (and
media) representing a common phenomenon. On the other hand, representation could
be described as processes in which some medium happens as the object of a media
product (and of the medium through which that media product occurs). In the second
case (representation), it is possible to observe what Elleström (2010) presents as qualified
media becoming objects of media products.
240 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
and poetry (see Aguiar, Castelões et al. 2015; Vitral et al. 2016; Salimena and Queiroz
2015; Cleyge et al. forthcoming).
In Queiroz’ approach, intersemiotic translation (IT) is a cognitive artefact (a mind-tool
or a cognitive technology) that scaffolds creativity in several scales. Such scales (temporal
and spatial) can be combined in analysis. IT can be described as a cognitive artifact designed
as a predictive, generative and meta-semiotic tool that distributes artistic creativity
(Queiroz, Fernandes et al. 2021; Queiroz and Atã 2019; 2020; Castello-Branco and
Queiroz 2019; Aguiar, Atã et al. et al. 2015). The phenomenon can be seen as ‘implants’
on ‘cognitive cyborgs’. This hypothesis is directly influenced by recent developments in
distributed cognitive science (see Anderson and Wheeler 2019). Queiroz explored these
ideas and took advantage of several examples of ITs to theatrical dance (from a visual
perspective in architecture to classical ballet), to Merce Cunningham’s choreographic
composition (from Cage’s protocols of music indeterminacy), to protocubist literature
(from Paul Cézanne), to concrete poetry (from Webern’s musical serialism) and others.
Queiroz’s ideas can be summarized as follows. As an augmented cognitive artefact, IT
works as a predictive tool – anticipating new and surprising patterns of semiotic events
and processes, keeping under control the emergence of new patterns. (This property
decreases the descriptive complexity of an environment of decisions and choices.) At the
same time, it works as a generative model, by providing new, unexpected, surprising data
in the target system, and affording competing results that allow the system to generate
candidate instances. (This property increases the descriptive complexity of an environment
of decisions and choices, thereby increasing the offer of alternative instances.) As a
meta-semiotic tool, IT creates a meta-level semiotic process, a sign-action that stands
for the action of a sign. It creates an ‘experimental laboratory’ for performing semiotic
experiments. IT submits semiotic systems to unusual conditions and provides a scenario
for observing the emergence of new and surprising semiotic behaviour as a result.
His approach depends on two fundamental premises: (1) semiotic cognitive
externalism, according to which ‘mind is out there’ and it is ‘made of signs’; (2) ‘sign
is a process’, according to which the fundamental explanatory building-block is ‘sign in
action’ (the process of semiosis). In contrast to a strong internalist trend in philosophy of
translation, Queiroz’s ideas on IT (via Peirce and the distributed cognitive approach) are
centred on the design and exploration of external cognitive tools and artefacts (materials,
procedures, protocols, rules, mind structures, cultural and physical tools, etc). What
does that mean? In terms of explanatory modelling, cognitive process of translation is
usually associated with mental abilities. The main research problems are framed in an
internalist framework, according to which cognition is described as the processing of
internal representations, and, accordingly, the notion of sign in translation is understood
as similar to cognitivist representation. A Peircean theoretical scenario suggests something
different: translation is described as a non-psychological process, materially and socially
distributed in space-time, and strongly based on the design and use of external cognitive
artefacts (sign processes). This situated view of cognition does not see the individual agent
(translator) as the centre of creative processes but as participant in wider cognitive systems
that are dependent on cognitive cultural ecologies. In concert with Queiroz’s ideas, IT is a
context-sensitive (historically and physically situated), interpretant-dependent (dialogic),
materially extended (embodied) abductive process. This view emphasizes self-organizing
process and emergence.
242 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
FINAL COMMENTS
Adaptation, transmediation, intermedial reference, intersemiotic translation … are we
talking about the same phenomenon? If we are, how can we establish a systematic set
of comparisons controlled by some unified theoretical frame? This task often seems to
be impracticable, for various reasons. The task must involve several theoretical steps,
including the definition of basic research questions and primitive explanatory components.
And this is still far from being done. For some authors, the explanatory component is
‘media’ (Wolf, Rajewsky, Clüver). Müller points to the problem: ‘We know dozens of
proposals to define a medium on the basis of different scientific paradigms ranging from
philosophical, social, economical, biological, communicational and technological frames
to channels of discourse, simulations, and patterns of actions or of cognitive processes – to
mention just a few items’ (2010b: 237). Indeed, for many authors, any explanations of
adaptation (or transmediation) should be based on the notion of medium. But for others,
such as Elleström and Bateman, the basic component is ‘modality’ (modal is the primitive
unity of explanation), and the notion of media being a derivative. For Queiroz, semiosis
(sign in action) is the fundamental theoretical entity. The question, What is intersemiotic
translation? is directly related to the question, What is semiosis?
Obviously, any decision about the fundamental explanatory frame, its structure and
premises, is directly related to the methods and materials (examples and cases) selected
for the analyses. What we have introduced here should be seen as the first step in a more
systematic treatment that should be developed further in the future. This chapter is a
preparatory scenario for this task.
NOTES
1 Rajewsky’s (2005) model for intermedial phenomena is based on three main categories.
Besides the ones presented here – medial transposition and intermedial reference – there is
also ‘media combination’, a category describing intermedial relations in which two or more
media participate in the constitution of a medium or a media product.
2 Despite being presented by the author as oppositions, it is important to note that the
intermedial forms proposed by the author are not considered necessarily occurring
separately in individual works but possible (and even probable) to be combined in several
ways (Wolf 2002).
3 In each section we opted to follow the terminology chosen by the author being discussed.
Thus, what Wolf describes as form here can be considered as a category in Elleström’s
model, for example.
4 Wolf (2002: 23; 2011: 5) uses the term ‘dominant’ to describe the medium through
which we access another medium as a preferred to (a ‘non dominant’, cf. Wolf 2002: 23)
in a work. The author observes that, in such cases, the referred medium ‘is actually only
“present” as an idea, as a signified and hence as a reference’ (Wolf 2002: 23).
5 Note that Elleström’s intermedial typology is not limited to transmedial processes.
However, in this work, we focus on our aim to present how translation phenomena are
treated by some contemporary researchers on interart, intermediality, multimodality.
6 It is important to note that Elleström does not state this term as equivalent to its use by
Bolter and Grusin (2000) in their well-known work on digital media (see Elleström 2010,
for a deeper understanding of this distinction).
TRANSLATION IN INTERMEDIAL STUDIES 243
REFERENCES
Aguiar, D., P. Atã and J. Queiroz (2015), ‘Intersemiotic Translation and Transformational
Creativity’, Punctum: International Journal of Semiotics, 1 (2): 11–21.
Aguiar, D., L. Castelões and J. Queiroz (2015), ‘VIA: A Collaborative Project Integrating
Mobile Technology, Video-Dance and Computer-Assisted Composition in Rio de Janeiro’,
Metaverse Creativity, 5 (1): 7–19. https://doi.org/10.1386/mvcr.5.1.7_1
Anderson, M. and M. Wheeler (eds) (2019), Distributed Cognition in Medieval and Renaissance
Culture, Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press.
Bateman, J. (2017), ‘Triangulating Transmediality: A Multimodal Semiotic Framework Relating
Media, Modes and Genres’, Discourse, Context & Media, 20: 160–74.
Bateman, J. (2019), ‘Transmediality and the End of Disembodied Semiotics’, International
Journal of Semiotics and Visual Rhetoric, 3 (2): 1–23.
Bolter, J. D. and R. Grusin (2000), Remediation: Understanding New Media, Cambridge:
The MIT Press.
Castello-Branco, M. and J. Queiroz (2019), ‘Técnica Estendida Para Flauta Transversal e
Criatividade Transformacional: Uma Investigação do Repertório Musical e de Seus Espaços
Conceituais’ [Extended Technique for Transverse Flute and Transformational Creativity:
An Investigation of the Musical Repertoire and Its Conceptual Spaces], OPUS – Revista
Eletrônica da ANPPOM, 25 (3): 474–91. http://dx.doi.org/10.20504/opus2019c2521
Clark, A. (2010), Supersizing the Mind: Embodiment, Action, and Cognitive Extension, Oxford:
Oxford University Press.
Cleyge, A., A. Loula and J. Queiroz (forthcoming), ‘PROPOE (Prose to Poetry): Geração
Computacional de Poemas Metrificados a Partir da Prosa Literária em Língua Portuguesa’
[Computational Generation of Metrified Poems from Literary Prose in Portuguese],
Materialidades da Literatura.
Clüver, C. (2006), ‘Inter Textus/Inter Artes/Inter Media’, Aletria, 14 (1): 11–41.
Clüver, C. (2007), ‘Intermediality and Interarts Studies’, in J. Arvidson, M. Askander, J. Bruhn
and H. Führer (eds), Changing Borders: Contemporary Positions in Intermediality, Lund:
Intermedia Studies Press 1, 19–37.
Clüver, C. (2009 [1992]), ‘Interarts Studies: An Introduction’, in S. Glaser (ed.), Media Inter
Media: Essays in Honor of Claus Clüver, Studies in Intermediality, 497–526, Amsterdam:
Rodopi.
Clüver, C. (2017), ‘Ekphrasis and Adaptation’, in T. Leitch (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of
Adaptation Studies, 459–76, Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Elleström, L. (2010), ‘The Modalities of Media: A Model for Understanding Intermedial
Relations’, in L. Elleström (ed.), Media Borders, Multimodality and Intermediality, 11–48,
London: Houndmills, Palgrave Macmillan.
Elleström, L. (2013), ‘A Theoretical Approach to Media Transformations’, in A. Toro
(ed.), Translatio. Transmédialité et transculturalité en littérature, peinture, photographie
et au cinéma (Amériques Europe Maghreb) [Transmediality and Transculturality in
Literature, Painting, Photography and Cinema (Americas Europe Maghreb)], 97–105, Paris:
L’Harmattan.
244 TRANSLATION BEYOND TRANSLATION STUDIES
agency 53, 55, 64, 66–70, 75–7, 105, 120–1, Jerusalem 205–7, 209
123, 125–6, 130, 133–5, 148, 158,
176, 219, 221–3 machine translation 19, 30, 146, 154, 169
Aristotle 12, 19, 165, 167, 178, 180, 182–3, metaphorical 2, 5, 120, 129, 133–4, 147, 200
185, 188 monolingual 11, 121–3, 126–7
autopoiesis 70–1 multilingual 3, 53, 55, 99, 103–4, 114,
119–22, 126–9, 131–3, 135, 145–6,
bio- 148, 157–8
medicine 10, 81 multimodality 199, 208, 242
semiotics 1, 42, 45, 64, 67, 70–1, 75–7,
221 natural language processing (nlp) 146, 147,
154
coding (including decoding, encoding and negentropy 11, 34
non-coding) 43–4, 52, 65, 66, 111, numinous 202
144, 148–9, 151, 173
communities 39, 40, 46, 52–3, 59 organizational change 119–20, 122–4, 132–3
complementarity 26, 37
computer/information science 1, 9–11, 39, 40, performance studies 171, 177, 188
44, 45, 59, 85, 155, 158 protein synthesis 63–8, 71–3, 77
cosmology/cosmogony 197, 204, 214
cross-cultural 122, 165, 171–2, 176, 187 reception 55–6, 72, 103, 125, 130, 134, 143,
146, 156–7, 181, 207
digital representational system 34, 37
humanities 46–7, 143–4, 153
literary studies 143 sacred esplanade 207
San rock paintings 210, 212
electronic literature 143–4, 146–8 semiosis 8, 21, 24, 67–70, 72, 75, 77, 166,
English 4, 5, 11, 42, 44, 47, 56, 101, 105, 168, 173, 185–7, 220–1, 224, 227,
107–9, 113, 120–2, 124–9, 131, 134–5, 231, 241–2
145, 148–9, 151–9, 173–5, 183, 186, (inter)semiotic translation 5, 7, 11, 63,
189 99–100, 112–14, 165–6, 169–70, 183,
entanglement 39, 52, 56 197, 199, 208, 210, 220, 224 231, 238,
entropy 11, 34, 37 240–2
evidence-based 84–5 semiotics 2–3, 12, 20, 21, 30, 33, 57, 63–4,
166, 168, 172, 186, 189, 197, 201,
friendship 3, 12, 93, 165–91 219–21, 223–4, 240
of space 201
hierophany 203, 214 simulation 41, 52–6, 59