Editors' Introduction - Lirias

New Voices in Translation Studies 20 (2019)

Editors’ Introduction, i-vii i

Editors’ Introduction

Over the past decades, translation and interpreting research has compelled scholars and

practitioners to take numerous factors in the provision of linguistic services into account, be

these services in written or spoken forms, and addressed to people who hear and read what is

being communicated, and/or to people who do not. For this reason, we find in Translation,

Interpreting and Intercultural Studies, a recurring focus on the critical examination and

deconstruction of complex relationships between interpreting and translation alongside issues

of power, agency, representation, and ideology. At the centre of cutting-edge research, a

variety of disciplinary approaches and praxes have emerged to capture shifting relations of

power and ideology at play in contexts of translation. Such constantly dynamic scenarios

within a world in constant flux inspired NV20, a Special Issue of New Voices in Translation

Studies which focuses precisely on Power and Ideology in Translation and Interpreting, as did

the International Postgraduate Conference on Translation and Interpreting Studies (IPCITI)

conference held in Manchester, UK in October 2018. IPCITI 2018 welcomed two keynote

speakers: Prof. Ji-hae Kang (Ajou University, South Korea) whose keynote lecture focused

on power, agency, and text trajectories in institutional translation, and Dr. Elisabet Tiselius

(Stockholm University, Sweden) whose contribution shed light on issues of interpreting

ethics and discretionary power. The conference attracted 23 high-calibre speakers whose

topics focused on theories of power and ideology; methodological endeavours; expertise and

professionalism; conflict and cooperation; censorship, media control, politics, and activism.

IPCITI, as an annual postgraduate conference is the result of a long-term collaboration

between Dublin City University, Heriot-Watt University, the University of Edinburgh and the

University of Manchester. This conference is held in order to provide the opportunity for PhD

and early career researchers in Translation and Interpreting Studies to share their research in a

intellectually stimulating environment. Echoing the themes of IPCITI 2018, NV20 thus takes

four broad fields of inquiry as its point of departure. The first overarching theme is the

intertwined concepts of power and agency in translation and interpreting. The second theme

is how ethical professional, and institutional imperatives have shaped, and continue to shape

translators/interpreter responses vis-à-vis other social actors and organisations. The third is

that of representation - political participation, social inclusion, recognition, restorative justice,


Editors’ Introduction, i-vii ii

well-being, and equality - in the many linguistic, textual, social, and economic discourses that

translators/interpreters encounter, mediate and affect. Finally, the fourth focus is that of

ideology, namely the role of agentic expression in manipulating and mediating systems of

beliefs, norms, and tacit understandings, including in view of media control and censorship.

These different facets of translation and interpreting showcase a fascinating and thriving

research field. NV20 also aims to contribute to this field with ground-breaking papers from

early career researchers which shed light on the importance of investigating issues of power,

ideology, representation, and agency and inspire future research in different settings.

As we write this introductory note, U.S President Donald Trump’s interpreter is making

headlines in global news as she faces the prospect of subpoena, asked to breach norms of

confidentiality under external conditions of power and privilege; the race is on for 2020

Tokyo Olympics volunteer interpreters, tasked with the linguistic and cultural representation

of Japan; the blame game begins as Google Translate and simultaneous interpretation apps

threat to strip language experts of their professional agency; local and global communities of

translators engage with ideology, social activism, and human rights advocacy. These

developments of people, professions, norms, and ideas demonstrate the urgency of pursuing

research in the interpreting and translation fields.

As Guest Editors, we would like to thank all those who made the conference and this issue

possible: The Centre for Translation and Intercultural Studies and University of Manchester

for supporting the organisation of 2018 IPCITI; the reviewers for their valuable contribution

and their collaborative work with the authors. Finally, we would like to express our deepest

gratitude to the editors of New Voices in Translation Studies for hosting this Special Issue

and guiding the guest editors and the authors to publication.

As we shall see in this Special Issue, a wide range of theoretical perspectives and

methodological approaches are represented which address interesting and pertinent issues

relating to power, ideology, agency and representation, cutting across different modes and

genres of translation and interpreting (e.g. literary translation, subtitling, political and

diplomatic treaty translation) in various language combinations and geographical locales.


Editors’ Introduction, i-vii iii

Beginning with the topic of feminism and ideology, which has motivated a plethora of studies

in Translation and Interpreting, Wangtaolue Guo illuminates translation as a form of

feminist activism in his paper “When Vaginas Speak Chinese: Mobilizing Feminism through

Translation.” As the title suggests, the author examines two different Chinese translations of

Eve Ensler’s The Vagina Monologues (2000) against the background of the second wave of

Taiwanese feminism which first materialized in 1987. Wangtaolue examines how the first

translation, published in 2000 when the anti-sexual harassment campaign and the women’s

rights movements were rife in Taiwan, served to support and legitimize the

institutionalization of women’s and gender studies programs across Taiwanese universities

entering into a dialectical with further translations of key Euro-American feminist theoretical,

literary, and activist texts that also served to challenge the patriarchal code in Taiwan.

Although this first translation drastically contributed to the popularization of gender equality,

it was, nonetheless, criticized by various scholars for a lack of feminist intervention, which,

according to Wangtaolue, might have necessitated and motivated the publication of a new

translation of Ensler’s play. As such, 2014 saw the circulation of another Mandarin Chinese

translation by Ting Fan and Ch’iao Se-fen, which, unlike its forerunner, was frequently

adapted for the stage. Wangtaolue, then moves on to examine how the different

socio-historical context interact with and perhaps determine the actual translation practices

employed by each translator. Drawing on the treatment of vaginal terms and terms/passages

about sexual violence against women, the author offers a penetrating response of how

different translations can complement or confront each other.

Drawing on the translation of “unequal treaties” signed between China and Britain during

1842-1843, Zien Guo (University of Leeds), contributes the paper: “Translating “Unequal

Treaties” between China and Great Britain during 1842-1843: Reconstruction of Ideology and

Practice of Power.” This paper examines how Britain sought more political gains (or

otherwise) through manipulating the translation of treaties, with the ultimate goal of

establishing the role of translation in the negotiation of power and the (re)construction of

ideological discourse. The author’s Critical Discourse Analysis (CDA) study revolves around

three dimensions: lexico-grammar, discourse semantics, and context, focusing respectively on

discursive patterns, information delivery, and the sociocultural environment that conditions


Editors’ Introduction, i-vii iv

translation practice. In her study, interesting translation shifts have been found. These shifts are

ideologically salient and seem to reflect the power struggle in the given historical period.

In his paper “Interpreting as Ideologically-Structured Action: Collective Identity between

Activist Interpreters and Protesters,” Mark Halley (Gallaudet University) explores the work

of the American Sign Language-English interpreters who volunteered in the 1988 Deaf

President Now protest (DPN). This paper is one of two papers in NV20 which focuses on the

shifting dynamics of power and ideology embedded within and via mediators of languages

used by hearing and deaf communities. Drawing from the construct of ideologically-structured

action, Halley captures and archives the decision-making of 27 interpreters present at different

times throughout the protest, by conducting interviews in which the interpreters reflect on how

their beliefs about and relationships with deaf people and communities shaped their actions.

This paper then discusses the integral role of interpreters alongside the protesters’ mission of

challenging the existing power structure by exploring how and why they volunteered their time

to push the protest forward. The data collected from the interviews reveal that strong personal

and community relationships motivated interpreters to volunteer their services. Halley also

argues that the activist interpreters exhibited a collective identity (Polletta and Jasper 2001)

with the deaf protesters, despite not being deaf themselves. Through his analysis of interview

data, Halley offers an important exploration of the work of signed language interpreters who

experienced a specific localised historical moment that represented a critical turning-point for

deaf and hearing communities within higher education. His findings also provide new insight

into how ideology and community ties may guide the actions of interpreters in times of conflict

and activism within deaf community settings.

Sijing Lu (University of Liverpool), uncovers the external and internal power relations of the

fansubbing practice in China by adopting a Bourdieusian sociological framework in her paper

titled “Understanding the Social Dynamics of Amateur Subtitling: A Bourdieusian Perspective

on Fansubbing in China.” Focusing on the role of fansubbers as social agents in the online

environment through a netnographic approach, Sijing Lu maps out three Chinese fansubbing

communities, showing that fansubbers often aim for self-regulatory practices and autonomy

within the field in terms of internal accumulation of capitals, hierarchisations, and

the maintenance or challenge of the status quo. These communities, however, are still


Editors’ Introduction, i-vii v

constrained by the heteronomous principle that exists within the field of power, such as

compliance to the dominant governmental policies regarding Internet censorship and copyright

laws.

Moving further back in time, Uchenna Oyali (University of Abuja), presents on how the

intertwining issues of power and ideology at play in the first English-Igbo Bible translations

have had long-ranging impact in Igbo community settings in his paper titled “The Semantic

Elaboration and Subversion of Iko in Igbo Bible Translation.” As explained by Oyali, before

their contact with Christianity in the mid-1800s, several Igbo communities practiced iko mbara,

an institution where a married person openly had a paramour with the consent of their spouse.

This practice was however condemned by the Christian missionaries as reflected in their use of

the term during Bible translation from English into Igbo. Therefore, this study poses the

following questions: What did iko mean prior to its use in the Igbo Bible? In what ways is its

use in the Bible different from its use prior to the Bible translations? How has its use in the

Bible changed the perception of the term among Igbo speakers? What are the implications of

these practices in contexts of translation in Nigeria? To respond to such questions, Oyali

compared the traditional Igbo practices which are designated with the term iko with the

different contexts where the term is used in Igbo Bible translation. His findings show how iko

was re-semanticized during Bible translation to mean any form of sex outside a monogamous

marriage framework, the terms used to do so giving iko a pejorative meaning, thereby

discouraging Igbo Christians from the practice. Oyali conducted a survey (questionnaire),

whose findings show how iko is perceived amongst a group of Igbo speakers. Oyali’s study

contributes to research on the linguistic impact of missionary translations on African languages

and their implications in pre- and post/colonial contexts of translation. Methodologically, it

also demonstrates how short questionnaire surveys can complement descriptive analysis which

seeks to explore the ideological impact of translations in different languages and cultures.

Michael Richardson, (Heriot-Watt University) explores the ways in which power is

exercised and negotiated by deaf and hearing theatre actors in a theatre rehearsal room in his

paper titled ‘Negotiating Power and Translation in a Bilingual (British Sign

Language/English) Rehearsal Room’. Ten actors, of whom five are self-identified as deaf and

five as hearing, participated in his project. By conceptualising deaf and hearing as


Editors’ Introduction, i-vii vi

Bourdieusian fields, Richardson conducts a socio-analysis of the power dynamics within two

examples of practice. His analysis shows that effective communication within the creative

processes of the project is supported by linguistic flexibility and a high degree of functional

bilingualism including translanguaging, i.e. language-free communication using gesture and

mime, and written materials in simple English. Conversely, effective communication is

compromized by practice that places one language in a dominant position. The study also

demonstrates that inclusive communication is maintained by favouring the use of intra-group

translation wherever possible, rather than having an embedded interpreter. In conclusion, his

research suggests that, whilst it is possible to over-ride the impact of hierarchies within such a

translation event, more typically societal inequalities that impact negatively on translation

processes are maintained.

Wenqian Zhang (University of Leeds) explores issues of power and agency in the translation

and publishing of Mo Yan's literary work in her paper “Translation Networks and Power: An

Archival Research on the English Translation of Mo Yan’s The Garlic Ballads.” Drawing on a

Bourdieusian framework and through analyzing the translator's archival materials, she argues

that in the translation production process such agents as the translator, the literary agents, editor

and publishers all seem to play a role in shaping the translation and there is an interesting and

intricate dynamics of power throughout the process. Her article explores how the translation

network featuring multiple agents interplayed in Howard Goldblatt’s English translation of Mo

Yan’s The Garlic Ballads. Her article shows that, although the translation project was initiated

by the translator, it was completed for the mutual benefit of different agents (the publisher

often has the strongest power in the translation network). Also, although the translator only

played a minor role at the later stages of the translation process, the capital he gained in the

translation field provided him with useful resources in the publishing field and this in turn

served to further enhance his position in the translation field.

In this issue we also include abstracts of six recently completed PhD theses. The abstracts are

titled ‘Translation in the Borderlands of Spanish: Balancing Power in English Translations

from Judeo-Spanish and Spanglish’ by Remy Attig of Saint Francis Xavier University,

Canada; ‘Cognitive Behaviors in the Translation Process: A Case Study of Student

Translators’ by Engliana of Universitas Indraprasta PGRI, Indonesia; ‘The Operational Norms


Editors’ Introduction, i-vii vii

of Prefabricated Chunks in Chinese-English Consecutive Interpreting: A Corpus-based

Approach’ by Yang Li of Northeastern University, China; ‘Interpreting in the Media:

Organisational, Interactional and Discursive Aspects of Dialogue Interpreting in Radio

Settings: A Study of Spain's Radio 3’ by Pedro Jesús Castillo Ortiz of Universidad de Granada,

Spain; ‘Bible Translation and Language Elaboration: The Igbo Experience’ by Uchenna Oyali

of University of Abuja, Nigeria; and ‘Texts and Traditions in Seventeenth Century Goa:

Reading Cultural Translation, Sacredness, and Transformation in the Kristapuraṇa of

Thomas Stephens S.J.’ by Annie Rachel Royson of Pandit Deendayal Petroleum University,

India.

Once again, we would like to thank the authors who have been diligent, patient and critical and

our anonymous referees who have been very dedicated and helpful. We would also like to

thank and congratulate our six new PhD holders for their achievement.

Guest Editors:

Deborah Giustini (University of Manchester)

Chonglong Gu (University of Liverpool/University of Manchester)

Editors:

Ruth Abou Rached (Freie Universität Berlin)

Edmund Chapman (University of Manchester)

David Charlston (Honorary Research Fellow, CTIS, University of Manchester)

Kelly Pasmatzi (University of Sheffield International Faculty CITY College, Greece)

M Zain Sulaiman (Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia)

Marija Todorova (The Hong Kong Polytechnic University)

May 2019


Wangtaolue Guo, When Vaginas Speak Chinese: Mobilizing Feminism through Translation, 1-25

1

When Vaginas Speak Chinese: Mobilizing Feminism through

Translation

Wangtaolue Guo

University of Alberta, CANADA

[email protected]

ABSTRACT

As a cross-cultural activity, translation is central to feminist praxis. To examine the dynamics

of translation, Taiwanese gender politics, and cultural mobility of feminist discourses, I

investigate two Chinese translations of The Vagina Monologues published in Taiwan. In the

first part of my article, I compare the political and institutional contexts in which the two

different Mandarin Chinese translations were produced, discuss how Eve Ensler’s play was

first introduced to Taiwan in 2000 by Ch’en Ts’ang-to as an initiative against gender-based

violence, and explain why it was retranslated by Ting Fan and Ch’iao Se-fen in 2014. In the

second part, I draw on select examples from those two translations to analyze how the two

groups of translators represent subversive female bodies and sexualities in the Chinese

language. By conducting the cross-analysis, I argue that translation, as a nuanced form of

feminist activism, facilitates the dissemination and circulation of feminist awareness in cross-

cultural encounters.

Keywords: activism, cultural mobility, feminist translation, Taiwan, The Vagina

Monologues, women’s movements



2

1. Introduction

During the last two decades, there have been multiple discussions about the intersection of

feminism and translation, from the early gender-conscious model reflected in feminist translation

studies (Chamberlain 1988; Simon 1996; von Flotow 1997) to recent scholarship that

reconceptualizes translation as a form of “intersectional feminist activism” (Castro and Ergun

2017:2). Despite the growing scholarly attention devoted to feminist translation praxis in the

Global South (Larkosh 2011; von Flotow and Farahzad 2017; Castro and Ergun 2017),

Sinophone countries/regions still remain a peripheral, if not “practically unknown” (Santaemilia

2011:23), geography in the global landscape of the women/translation interdiscipline. In this

paper, I trace the development of two Taiwanese feminist waves and investigate two Mandarin

Chinese translations of The Vagina Monologues published in Taiwan. In the first part, I compare

the contexts in which two different Mandarin translations were produced, discuss how Eve

Ensler’s 1998 play was first introduced in Taiwan by Ch’en Ts’ang-to in 2000 and contributed to

the second-wave Taiwanese feminist movements, and explore why it was retranslated by Ting

Fan and Ch’iao Se-fen1 in 2014. In the second part, I draw on select examples from these two

translations to analyze how the two groups of translators treat female bodies and sexualities. By

analyzing these two different sociohistorical contexts, I argue that translation facilitates the

dissemination and circulation of feminist discourses in cross-cultural encounters, challenging the

patriarchal codes in Taiwan and raising awareness of gender equality. The comparative

contextual and (para-)textual analyses of the two Mandarin translations of The Vagina

Monologues also reveal that the various forms of feminist intervention effectuated in the target

(para-)texts should not be simply equated with “simple alteration of a source text in blind

allegiance to [a translator’s] ‘agenda’” (Eshelman 2007:17) or “cumulative improvement in

respect of the source text’s portrayal” (Deane-Cox 2014:7). Feminist translation praxis, as it turns

out, entails a complex mechanism through which translational agents encounter and negotiate

with each other.

1 In this article, I transliterate names of Taiwanese scholars and translators by using Wade-Giles, except when a

different conventional or preferred spelling exits (for instance, Yu Rongjun). The ordering of most Chinese names

follows their conventional forms: surname/family name first, except for people who are known by their Anglicized

names (for instance, Josephine Ho) or the scholars whose names appear on the covers of their books in a different

fashion (for instance, Ya-chen Chen and Zhongli Yu).



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2. Translation and two waves of Taiwanese Feminism

As a product of multiple transnational and translational encounters, Taiwanese feminism does not

have a linear history. Moreover, to talk about Taiwanese feminism, as Shu-mei Shih reveals, is to

“confront potential charges of illegitimacy and inauthenticity” (2015:174). The two signifiers—

Taiwan(ese) and feminism—that constitute the term have long been imbued with “imperial

intentions […] and […] historically specific determinations” (ibid), with the former subjugated to

China’s cultural and military hegemony, thus overshadowed by the centrality of Chineseness, and

the latter denoting a universalizing posture of the West regarding local representations. However,

Taiwan’s multicultural and multiethnic composition, as well as its ambiguous politico-historical

status as a U.S. protectorate, an island nation, a former Japanese colony, and a province that

China has been tenaciously claiming as its own, convinces Shih (2015:175-177) to propose that

Taiwanese feminism needs to be framed as a transnational formation. Like many other forms of

cultural exchanges, the power differentials entering into Taiwanese feminists’ encounters with

their counterparts in the Anglophone world or the East Asian “contact nebulae” (Thornber

2009:463) constitute a complex dialectic between the neocolonial and the local. Translation,

under the circumstances, assumes the central role in the (trans-)formation of the two waves of

Taiwanese feminism: mobilizing feminist knowledge and revealing the geopolitical disparities

regarding transnational communication.

It is believed that the first wave of Taiwanese feminism or women’s movement took place during

the Japanese colonial period (1895-1945), although historians are still debating whether or not the

matrilineal practices in Taiwanese indigenous tribes should be considered an embodiment of

Taiwanese feminism. Under Japanese rule, women’s issues became a focal point that manifests

the power dynamics between the ingrained Confucian ideology in Taiwan, the Japanese

colonizers, and the radical Taiwanese elites. To fortify Japan’s dominance of Taiwan and further

exploit its local economy, the colonizers carried out a feet-unbinding campaign2 in Taiwan and

valorized women’s labor to a great degree, which raised women’s status in the emerging

capitalist industry (Yang 2015:140-141). According to Ya-chen Chen (2011:53), they also

2 Female feet-binding has long been considered as an embodiment of the patriarchalized Confucian morals. The

practice of feet-binding in pre-modern China, as many historians and scholars observe, was usually associated with

fetishism, sexual objectification, male domination, and violence against women.



4

sponsored women’s magazines that advocated for women’s social engagement, such as 台灣婦人

界 Taiwan furen jie [Taiwanese Women’s Circle]. Meanwhile, Taiwanese elites and students who

had studied in Japan facilitated the transnational movement of feminist ideas by translating

Japanese and Euro-American feminist activist news and texts and publishing them in 台灣青年

Taiwan qingnian [Taiwan Youth], an anti-imperialist magazine that called for women’s liberation

and political participation. From 1920 to 1931, a continuum of discussions about Taiwanese

feminist issues such as free love, women’s education, and women’s suffrage arose in Taiwanese

society, thanks to the translators of Western and Japanese feminist texts and their activist

practices. Their translations, although overshadowed now and then by Japan’s colonial

surveillance and the Confucian legacy, made Taiwanese readers become aware of women’s rights

and various forms of feminist activism. By the end of 1931, there were at least ten feminist

groups, such as 全國婦女協進會 Quanguo funü xiejinhui [National Women’s Association for

Mutual Assistance and Advancement] and あいこくふじんかい aikoku fujinkai [Patriotic

Women’s Association], across Taiwan in the pursuit of women’s liberation in education, family,

marriage, and economy (Chang 2009:36-44).

The story of Taiwanese feminism, as Shu-mei Shih points out, is “a story of discontinuity”

(2015:179). The second wave of the women’s movement in Taiwan did not manifest itself

explicitly until 1987 when Chiang Ching-kuo, then President of Taiwan and leader of the

Kuomingtang (also known as the KMT or the Nationalist Party), announced the lifting of martial

law. But the lack of presence does not mean that over the four decades following the handover of

Taiwan to the KMT, the women’s movement in Taiwan came to a complete halt. Scholars such

as Ya-chen Chen (2011: 57-58) and Bih-er Chou (2018:116-117) believe that, under the White

Terror—suppression of political dissidents following the February 28 Incident3—imposed by the

KMT regime, underground human rights and feminist campaigns nevertheless paved the way for

the second wave of Taiwanese feminism. For instance, Simone de Beauvoir’s Le deuxième sexe

[The Second Sex], one of the most canonical feminist texts, was partly translated into Chinese by

Sang Chu-ying and published in Taiwan in 1972. In that same year, feminist scholar and activist

3 Known as 二二八事件 in Chinese, it was an uprising against the high-handed KMT government in 1947. The

campaign was soon violently suppressed by the KMT, and Taiwan was placed under martial law hence forth until

1987.



5

Lü Hsiu-lien, who later became the Vice President of Taiwan in the Ch’en Shui-pien

administration from 2000 to 2008, published 新女性主義 Xin nüxing zhuyi [A New Feminism], a

book initiating discussions that ignited a new women’s movement in Taiwan (Chou 2018:116).

Since the lifting of martial law, the second wave of Taiwanese feminism has been burgeoning,

with more and more Euro-American (non-)feminist thought translated into Chinese. In contrast to

the first wave, which was primarily led by Japanese colonizers and Japan-educated students, the

second wave—also the current one in Taiwan—has a few particularities. Firstly,

institutionalization of women’s studies has become a critical manifestation of contemporary

feminist movement in Taiwan. Since the first women’s studies program was established in 1985

at National Taiwan University, there has been a boom in the emergence of women’s/gender

studies research programs, institutes, and centers. According to Chou (2018:123), at least twelve

universities across Taiwan had been offering women’s and gender studies programs by the end of

2014. Secondly, second-wave Taiwanese feminists have more diverse agendas, aiming to extend

feminist awareness. Issues such as sexual harassment, domestic violence, and prostitution have

become their new concerns. Thirdly, the new wave of Taiwanese feminism also calls for more

feminist texts of diversified genres, themes, and styles to be translated into Chinese, so that more

courses about gender egalitarianism, non-normative sexualities, and feminism can be created in

university curricula, and feminist knowledge, which regards sexual autonomy in particular, can

be spread more quickly and effectively.

3. The Vagina Monologues goes to Taiwan

The first Mandarin Chinese translation of The Vagina Monologues was published in Taiwan in

2000, when second-wave Taiwanese feminism was blooming. It was not by accident that Ensler’s

radical play about female bodies, sexualities, and women’s sexual rights was introduced to the

Sinophone world at a time when Taiwanese academia was searching for new ways of

constructing knowledge “based on women’s experiences” (Chou 2018:117) and grass-roots

feminists in Taiwan were carrying out various campaigns to fight sexual harassment and

conventional gender roles in a patriarchal society.

Academic feminism in Taiwan has served as a wing of the women’s movement for almost four

decades. Since the 1980s, the women’s studies curriculum has been gradually incorporated into



6

disciplines in the humanities and social sciences, such as Chinese language and literature, foreign

languages and literatures, political science, and sociology. From the 1990s onwards, Taiwanese

scholars trained in the West (particularly in the U.S.) helped introduce and translate Euro-

American feminist theoretical, literary, and activist texts into Chinese and used them as teaching

materials in the newly-added women’s and gender studies courses. Among those that were

translated and taught in classrooms were Erica Jong’s Fear of Flying (translated as 怕飛 Pa fei

by Mao Yü in 1995), Rosemarie Tong’s Feminist Thought: A More Comprehensive Introduction

(translated as 女性主義的思潮 Nüxing zhuyi de sichao by Tiao Hsiao-hua in 1996), and Patricia

T. Clough’s Feminist Thought: Desire, Power and Academic Discourse (translated as 女性主義

思想：慾望、權力及學術論述 Nüxing zhuyi sixiang: yuwang, quanli ji xueshu lunshu by Hsia

Ch’uan-wei), to name a few. These translations, including the Chinese translation of The Vagina

Monologues that was published in 2000, enabled local scholars with literary, anthropological, and

sociological background to take up less-studied research topics such as Taiwanese comfort

women, child brides, and gender roles in the traditional kinship structure. Meanwhile, teaching

these translations in classrooms constituted a continuous mechanism of validating feminist

awareness in Taiwanese academia and institutionalizing women’s and gender studies programs in

universities across Taiwan. Although the entrenched academic hierarchy, as Chen reveals in her

study of Taiwanese academy’s reception of feminist discourse, sought to “hinder the emergent

[discipline] from progressing” (2011:93), there were, by the end of 2014, twelve institutions of

higher education in Taiwan offering women’s and gender studies programs (Chou 2018:123).

The introduction of The Vagina Monologues in Taiwan also resonated with the anti-sexual

harassment campaign and the women’s rights movement that had been going on since 1995.

According to Wang Ya-ko (2001:122), from 1995 to 1997, several cases of sexual harassment on

campus spurred a wide-scale feminist activist campaign in pursuit of gender equality and a

female-friendly working environment. In addition to the multiple crusades organized collectively

by feminist groups such as 婦女新知基金會 Funü xinzhi jijinhui [Awakening Foundation],

Josephine Ho—a feminist activist and the coordinator of the Center for the Study of Sexualities at

National Central University—led a radical protest against sexual harassment on campus, during

which the participants chanted 只要性高潮，不要性騷擾 Zhiyao xing gaochao, buyao xing



7

saorao [We want orgasm, not sexual harassment]. Evidently, their slogan corresponded to the

messages that Eve Ensler tries to compose and send via episodes such as “My Angry Vagina”

and “The Little Coochi Snorcher That Could”. Retrospectively speaking, the timing of publishing

the Chinese translation of The Vagina Monologues was nothing short of impeccable, in that the

book, together with other practices of second-wave Taiwanese feminism, helped create a public

awareness of sexual violence against women and feminist sexual liberation by encouraging

ordinary Taiwanese readers to associate their own experience with stories told by people of

different ages, ethnic backgrounds, socio-economic statuses, and languages. An anonymous

reader writes in his/her blog: “我不是學院派, 並不怎麼了解女性主義之類的觀點，也不是揮

舞著一頂女權運動的帽子，就是單純的喜歡「陰道獨白」帶給我生命的啟發 [I’m not an

academic. I’m not that familiar with feminist ideas. Nor am I an activist who participates in every

feminist protest. But I simply enjoy what I got from reading The Vagina Monologues]” (Yiling 4

March 2006, my translation). He/She makes an analogy a few lines later: “製作過程卻是費了不

少的手勁兒和力氣把奶油「打熟」。它是一道極富力量的點心，如同女人的陰道一樣

powerful [When you’re making tiramisu, you really need to put all your strength into whisking

the cream. Fighting for women’s liberation is the same. Your effort makes both the dessert and

the vagina powerful]” (ibid., my translation). This particular reader, although not identifying

him/herself as a feminist, has clearly been exposed to a feminist effect by reading the translation.

Likewise, another reader, having read the Chinese translation of The Vagina Monologues several

times, expresses her point of view about the un-speakable/un-seeable vaginal politics and what

Ensler’s book means to her: “站在女性的立場，我當然認為有必要好好端詳自己的陰道，別

管他什麼學術理論的解釋，至少你會因此檢視你跟男人之間的問題 [As a woman, I certainly

believe that it is necessary for me to scrutinize my vagina. Forget about theories. They are merely

paper talk. You need to get ready to stare gender issues in the eyes]” (賈思琳甜不辣小姐 Jiasilin

tianbula xiaojie 25 June 2005, my translation). Straightforward as she is, this reader has clearly

been inspired by Ensler’s message in the book and thus taken an activist stance. In all, responses

like the ones above added to the conversations about women’s empowerment and gender equality

that had already been going on in Taiwanese society.



8

It is true that when the Chinese translation of The Vagina Monologues first came out in 2000, it

generally corroborated a feminist ideology and popularized the belief of gender equality in

Taiwan. This particular translation, however, has been criticized by several scholars for its

awkward rendering, the translator’s unsympathetic stance, and a lack of feminist intervention. In

Translating Feminism in China: Gender, Sexuality and Censorship, Zhongli Yu compares the

2000 Taiwanese version, translated by Ch’en Ts’ang-to, with another two Chinese translations of

The Vagina Monologues published in China a few years later and points out that Ch’en’s frequent

use of zero translation strategy and his word-for-word rendering are very problematic, because

those approaches make the translation “convey the least information to a monolingual reader”

(2015:111) and understate the feminist agendas and women’s experiences in the original play,

thus reducing its vitality. In fact, even general readers have raised concerns over Ch’en’s

translation. For instance, another anonymous reader shared on an online chatting forum his/her

reading response of Ch’en’s translation. In it, he/she writes “前陣子看了一本書，叫《陰道獨

語》 […] 我覺得語言上的隔閡還有翻譯上有點問題 [Recently, I’ve read a book called Yindao

duyu, which is the Chinese translation of The Vagina Monologues. There must be something

wrong with the translation, because I feel linguistically estranged]” (EucalyptusJ 10 March 2005,

my translation). Apparently, Ch’en’s translation sounds amateurish to this reader, as he/she finds

it challenging to come to terms with the long list of vernacular terms left untranslated, anglicized

sentences, and stiff word-for-word rendering. Similar criticisms regarding the quality of Ch’en’s

rendition can also be found on another Chinese-language online forum, on which readers posted

comments like “譯製片語氣 […] 讀得好糾結 [It reminded me of those cheesy dubbed foreign

films […] I felt so confused when reading the translation]” (simaosmall 7 September 2011, my

translation) and “這個譯本也不算很好 [This translation is not that good as well]” (青木魚

Qingmuyu 12 March 2014, my translation). It might be due to these unfavorable comments from

the public, as well as the critical remarks from academia, that a new translation of Ensler’s play

was needed.

Aside from the deficiencies in Ch’en’s translation, multiple updates to the original text could be

another reason for publishing a new Chinese translation. Since The Vagina Monologues first



9

came out in 1998, Eve Ensler has been promoting the V-Day movement4 and revising her play

based on her experience of travelling to places such as the Congo, Pakistan, Macedonia, Egypt,

and Morocco. In 2001, a new section called “V-Day”, which consisted of Karen Obel’s narrative

of her experience as the director of the V-Day College Initiative and letters from student

participants expressing a heightened feminist awareness, and a V-Day promotion page were

added to the original book. The tenth anniversary edition of The Vagina Monologues, which was

published in 2008, includes five new monologues written by Ensler “for a V-Day Spotlight or a

situation in the world where women were totally at risk, where they had been raped or murdered

or dismissed or simply not allowed to be” (Ensler 2008:127). Since the newly-added monologues

are based on Ensler’s interviews with under-represented female communities such as Muslim

women (“The Memory of Her Face”), transgender people (“They Beat the Girl out of My Boy …

Or so They Tried”), and indigenous women (“Crooked Braid”), adding them to the original play

demonstrates the multiplicity and openness of Ensler’s work and refutes scholars and activists

who criticize The Vagina Monologues for “mobiliz[ing] a colonialist discourse” (Hall 2005:103)

and failing to acknowledge an American-centric interpretation of other women’s lives and what

counts as violence against women (Cooper 2007:738-739). In addition to that, “Say It”—one of

the spotlight monologues told from the perspective of comfort women—is closely associated

with Taiwanese women’s rights campaigns that aspire to bring justice to approximately 1,000 to

2,0005 じゅうぐん‐いあんふ jugun ianfu [comfort women joining the army] in Taiwan. These

revisions and updates that enriched the original play and created an international feminist

solidarity have also invited a new translation of Ensler’s work.

In 2014, a new Chinese translation of The Vagina Monologues was published by Psygarden in

collaboration with 勵馨基金會 Lixin jijinhui [Garden of Hope Foundation]. Translated by Ting

Fan and Ch’iao Se-fen, the 2014 version is not only more updated than the 2000 one, as it is

based on the tenth anniversary edition of Ensler’s book, but also more of a real theater script. In

fact, although Ch’en’s version is the first Chinese translation of Ensler’s play that got published,

theater companies and groups in Taiwan have never used that translation when they put The

Vagina Monologues on stage. Instead, before 2014, Yu Rongjun’s translation, which was

4 It is a global activist movement to end violence against all women and girls. 5 https://apjjf.org/2018/08/Ward.html (accessed April 2019).



10

published in China in 2003, was frequently adapted and used by commercial and non-commercial

theater groups in Taiwan, including the Garden of Hope Foundation that has been sponsoring

Taiwanese V-Day since 2005. Therefore, the lack of a quasi-stage translation done by Taiwanese

translators could also account for the publication of the 2014 translation, which served as a form

of “participatory theatre” (Cheng 2009:32) by bringing a more performative text to the reader and

generating constant dialogues.

4. When vaginas speak Chinese: more than translators’ interventions

As a classical piece of feminist writing on women’s bodies, sexualities, and eroticism, The

Vagina Monologues stirs up public discussion and consciousness about violence against women

and patriarchal control over women’s rights. The play, as several scholars have pointed out,

advocates a feminist awareness through its “transgressive and carnivalesque public stance” (Bell

and Reverby 2005:433) and “lyrical, poignant, charming, romantic, tragic, vulgar, sentimental,

raunchy and exhilarating” power (Pollitt 2001). If performing The Vagina Monologues in English

has already required profound commitment, (re-)translating the play into another language is

even more challenging. Ch’en Ts’ang-to, Ting Fan, and Ch’iao Se-fen employ different lexical

and semantic strategies in their respective translations for the purpose of politicizing the female

body and sexuality. Likewise, the publishers choose different blurbs and covers for the

translations to make them align with the changing political messages expressed in the second

wave of Taiwanese feminism. Instead of validating the “retranslation hypothesis” (Desmidt

2009:671; Deane-Cox 2014:4-5), I argue that those nebulously connected translational activities

bring about a variety of representations of the source text and its specificities.

Shocked at First Sight

One of the most palpable—and paradoxically subtle—differences between Ch’en’s translation

and Ting and Ch’iao’s lies in the title. The nuanced phrase The Vagina Monologues is translated

as 陰道獨語 Yindao duyu by Ch’en and 陰道獨白 Yindao dubai by Ting and Ch’iao. While both

the two groups of translators choose the same Chinese word for vagina, a word that engenders

subversity and multiple interpretations, their renderings of monologues differ, with Ch’en using a

literary term and Ting and Ch’iao a standard theatrical one.



11

In his translator’s notes, Ch’en reveals his rationale for choosing 陰道 yindao [female

passage/hidden passage] as the corresponding term in Chinese for vagina. He explains that “就

[…] 性器官的中文用語而言，「膣」也許太專門，而「雞巴」又太粗俗，所以「陰道」應

是可以接受的字語 [Among the many Chinese terms for the lady parts, zhi might sound too

technical, while jiba6 too coarse. Yindao, I think, would be accepted by my audience]” (Ch’en

2000:3, my translation). The most fitting Chinese translation for vagina, according to Ch’en, is

陰道 yindao, a word with a neutral semantic connotation. Unlike the archaic word 膣 zhi or the

sexually vulgar term 雞巴 jiba, 陰道 yindao bypasses the linguistic taboo in the Chinese

language. Moreover, Chinese speakers in the late 1990s were aware of the term yet would rarely

say it aloud in public, just like most of their English counterparts who “spoke [terms like vagina,

labia, vulva, or clitoris] rarely and in a hushed voice” (Steinem 1998:xxvii). Also illustrated in

the translator’s note is Ch’en’s intention of choosing a corresponding Chinese term that can also

be molded into a double entendre, as he writes “「陰道」似乎提供了一道門道 [Yindao seems

to offer us a passage]” (Ch’en 2000:4, my translation). On the surface, 陰道 yindao—the word

itself—almost certainly refers to the female genitalia that have long been a taboo object in the

Sinophone world. Yet, Ch’en provides the reader with a non-normative interpretation that

associates 陰道 yindao with 門道 mendao [passage/solution/a way out/approach]. Since 陰 yin

sometimes correlates to women or femininity and 道 dao means method, doctrine, or path

depending on the context, the Chinese term for female genitals, therefore, can also be interpreted

as the female approach, or to put it more metaphorically, women’s knowledge. By creating the

double-entendre in his translation, Ch’en highlights the subversiveness of Ensler’s play, which

aims to debunk the heteropatriarchal view of the female body and aligns with the activist agenda

of exposing sexual violence against women in second-wave Taiwanese feminism.

In their 2014 translation, Ting and Ch’iao keep 陰道 yindao as the corresponding Chinese word

for vagina in the title. Although the two translators do not offer any explanations regarding their

decision-making, their rationale might be inferred from the foreword attached to the 2014

Chinese version. The foreword, written by a representative from the Garden of Hope Foundation

6 Ch’en’s mention of 雞巴 jiba is questionable here, in that it is one of the Mandarin Chinese terms for penis. This

could be an oversight on either the translator’s part or the editor’s part.



12

that has endorsed Taiwanese V-Day and is the sponsor of the new translation, relates a dire

experience: “曾有媒體來採訪「陰道獨白」演出記者會，播出的畫面，居然把拍到的背板

「陰道」兩字上了馬賽克，訪談中談到陰道兩個字，也被自動消音了 [In the news coverage

of our performance of Yindao dubai, the word yindao was completely censored! Yindao on our

posters was pixelated. When someone said the word, it was bleeped out on TV]” (Chi 2014:10).

Illustrated by this unsettling episode is the heart-breaking fact that one decade after Ch’en’s

translation of The Vagina Monologues was published and feminist activists strove to promote

gender equality, the vagina still remained an “unmentionable area” (Steinem 1998:xxix) and the

word vagina an unspeakable one. Given this socio-cultural scenario, Ting and Ch’iao’s use of 陰

道 yindao carries a double implication. On the one hand, it echoes Ch’en’s translation and

contributes to the accumulation of female knowledge. On the other hand, it deconstructs the

linguistic sign in a manner different from Ch’en’s. 道 dao, instead of referring to some certain

method or path, denotes the act of speech, or simply, to speak. Thus, 陰道 yindao can be

understood as the vagina’s voice or the vagina speaks. Such an interpretation corresponds more

incisively to Ensler’s agenda, which she eloquently puts as “I say it [vagina] because I want to

someday feel comfortable saying it, and not ashamed and guilty […] I say ‘vagina’ because I

want people to respond” (Ensler 2008a:xl-xli).

If using the word 陰道 yindao, which some conservatives find shocking in a book title,

demonstrates the three translators’ agency and their activist stance on women’s rights and

heteropatriarchy, the difference that one finds between the title of the 2000 translation and that of

2014 exhibits the valence of “the powers that can further or hinder the reading, writing, and

rewriting of literature (Lefevere 1992:12). Although the first decade of the new millennium was

considered as the mainstreaming stage of second-wave Taiwanese feminism (Chou 2018:136),

both academic and public feminist groups and women’s movement participants were nevertheless

faced with challenges that prevented them from demystifying the female body and fighting

domestic violence against women. Likewise, a subversive text like The Vagina Monologues was

not able to make its way to a Sinophone patriarchal society without the translators’ and the

publishers’ interventions.



13

In the 2000 translation, Ch’en translates monologues as 獨語 duyu, a literary term in Chinese that

means speaking one’s thoughts to oneself. More of an equivalent to the English word soliloquy,

獨語 duyu suggests a more introverted disposition than monologues does and linguistically

mitigates the activist stance embedded in the original text. Under the interlinear title, however, is

a blurb that says 讓她說說話 rang ta shuo shuo hua [Let her speak]. This particular line,

although in a much smaller font, channels a feminist awareness to the reader, as it implicitly

reminds them of the ubiquity of women’s silenced status and encourage them to embrace female

knowledge. Ch’en’s lexical choice and the paratextual evidence reveal the palimpsestically

interwoven ideological components that implicitly shape the translation. As a professor of

English at the National Chengchi University at that time, Ch’en could not have been blind to the

fact that academic feminism in Taiwan was not free from disputes within academia. According to

Ya-chen Chen’s study of Taiwanese academy’s reception of feminist thoughts, which includes

her interviews with twenty-five Taiwanese feminist scholars, institutionalization of women’s and

gender studies and validation of feminist texts for pedagogy constantly succumbed to the

academic hierarchy and conservatism. One interviewee in Chen’s study discloses that one of her

male colleagues did not regard women’s writing “significant enough to be considered

‘literature’” (Chen 2011:81), while some others point out that Taiwanese literary scholars were

reluctant to deal with Chinese translations of Western publications (Chen 2011:80). Given the

contested academic environment of the late 1990s, the subversiveness of the source text would

have to be blunted had the translator wished to introduce The Vagina Monologues to Taiwanese

(academic) readers. This might account for Ch’en’s juxtaposition of 陰道 yindao, a rather

shocking term, with 獨語 duyu, which signifies a mild stance. The activist blurb, however,

indicates that New Rain, which published Ch’en’s translation, shared the more progressive

political agenda of many grassroots feminist organizations. Describing itself as 出版為人類文明

的郵差 [the cultural messenger for human civilization], New Rain aimed at not only an academic

audience, but also general participants of the anti-sexual harassment campaign and women’s

rights movements in the late 1990s.

Published in what some scholars call the “mainstreaming” (Chou 2018:136) stage of the second

wave of Taiwanese feminism, the 2014 translation unapologetically adopts 獨白 dubai [an

extended speech by one person addressing a large audience], the standard theatrical term in



14

Chinese for monologues, in its title. Interestingly, except in Ch’en’s 2000 translation, the title of

Ensler’s play has long been translated as 陰道獨白 yindao dubai in a few reader’s theater

scripts.7 One of the reasons that Ting and Ch’iao decide to use 獨白 dubai, instead of 獨語 duyu,

could be that the collocation 陰道獨白 yindao dubai is more widely accepted by and

recognizable to the audience. They may also intend to distinguish their translation from Ch’en’s

by signaling a difference in the title. In addition to that, Ting and Ch’iao’s translation features on

its cover a portrait of Eve Ensler under the interlinear title and a backdrop that resembles both

flower petals and theater curtains. While embodying the central subject in the play, such a design

blatantly challenges the patriarchal code in Taiwan and highlights the performative nature of

Ensler’s play by promoting the unspeakable vagina politics. By making the book title bold and

blatantly showcasing a symbol that represents the female genitalia, Ting and Ch’iao’s translation

overthrows the dominant discourse of the public and the private and makes it clear that the power

of The Vagina Monologues comes from its “transgressive and carnivalesque public stance” (Bell

and Reverby 2005:433); that is, the power lies in the process of talking and sharing in public

rather than reading in private. This explicit political note continues to echo the grassroots feminist

attempts at combating gendered violence in Taiwan.

Vagina in (non-)translation

Opening with a cryptic line “I bet you’re worried” (Ensler 2008a:3), the very first monologue

immediately taps into the anxiety and social taboos that surround the play’s subject matter:

vaginas. One of the reasons for which Ensler “say[s] [vagina] one hundred and twenty-eight

times every evening” (2008a:xxxix) she performs her show, as the playwright herself reveals in

the preface, is that the shame and embarrassment that one feels when saying the word “has

become a form of silencing [one’s] desire, eroding [one’s] ambition” (Ensler 2008a:xliii). Driven

by the fact that taboos—be they linguistic or social—help perpetuate a culture of silence and

violence against women, she ends the first monologue with a list of terms for female genitalia

that she attempts to reclaim throughout the play.

7 The most widely circulated ones are Ai Xiaoming’s 2003 translation and Yu Rongjun’s 2003 translation.



15

Although rendering the taboo topics visible and speakable through the humorous display of the

female body, the naming of various vaginal words from different groups of women ostensibly

demonstrates that the very core of the play is the United States. The vernacular terms for the

vagina are so area-specific that even the English speakers outside the U.S. might not recognize

each and every one of them, let alone their cultural connotations. This form of feminist

knowledge with its belief in American sisterhood poses a great challenge for Taiwanese

translators to transpose the opening monologue into Mandarin Chinese.

The following excerpts demonstrate how part of Ensler’s opening monologue is rendered

respectively in the 2000 and 2014 Mandarin translations:

Ch’en’s translation: 在新澤西州，人們稱陰道為 twat。除外，陰道還有以下的稱

呼：powderbox（化粧盒——譯註，下同）、derriere（臀部）、poochi（小狗）、

poopi（噗噗聲）、peepe（尿）、poopelu、poonani、pal（朋友）、piche、

toadie（小蟾蜍）、dee dee、nishi […] (Ensler 1998:31).

[In New Jersey, they call vagina twat. There are other names for vagina: powderbox

(makeup box—translator’s note, the same below), derriere (bottom), poochi (little dog),

poopi (the sound of puff), peepe (urine), poopelu, poonani, pal (friend), piche, toadie

(little toad), dee dee, nishi […]] (my back translation; italics are used to indicate the

words in English in the Chinese translation).

Ting and Ch’iao’s translation: 在紐澤西，叫它 twat。還有其他叫法：powderbox

（粉盒）、derrière（臀部）、poochi（狗兒）、poopi、peepe（尿）、poopelu、

poonani、pal（朋友）、piche（小狗）、toadie（蟾蜍）、dee dee、nishi […]

(Ensler 2008b:43-44).

[In New Jersey, it is called twat. Some other names include: powderbox (a box for

beauty powder), derrière (bottom), poochi (puppy), poopi, peepe (urine), poopelu,

poonani, pal (friend), piche (doggie), toadie (toad), dee dee, nishi […]] (my back

translation; italics are used to indicate the words in English in the Chinese translation).

This is an interesting case against a Bermanian logic that retranslation possesses “restorative,

corrective and illuminating properties” (Deane-Cox 2014:3). The two groups of translators both

leave the English terms untranslated, while providing the dictionary meanings of a few selected

words in brackets in the form of translator’s notes. Their bilingual renderings, which are highly

foreignized regarding the form, have been criticized by scholars for managing to convey the least



16

information to the monolingual reader. Zhongli Yu, who has done a comprehensive study on

feminist translation in China, contends that “the English terms retained in Chen’s8 translations are

merely strange terms with strange pronunciations to Chinese readers or audiences unless they are

bilingual” (2015:108). By comparing Ch’en Ts’ang-to’s translation with another two Mandarin

translations of The Vagina Monologues published in China, in which the translators rewrite the

prelude and adapt it to a Chinese context, she concludes that Ch’en’s version lacks a feminist

stance and fails to transmit feminism to the Sinophone audience.

Admittedly, Yu’s point about the limited reception of Ch’en’s translation is well-founded, in that

the bilingual rendering disrupts a smooth reading of the monologue by requiring the monolingual

reader to go back and forth from time to time. Her remarks about the lack of feminist intervention

in the translation, however, turns out to be hasty. By including the long list of vaginal terms, the

prelude addresses what Michele Hammers calls the themes of “negative amplification and

erasure” (2006:227). When reading the English original, one may easily detect negative

amplification in the juxtaposition of taboos and euphemism (for instance, the juxtaposition of

“twat,” an offensive way of referring to vulva, and “derrière,” a French word that refers to the

bottom). One may, at the same time, develop a sense of estrangement as more and more

idiosyncratic names for female genitalia start to appear. An anonymous reader recounts an

interesting finding when she first heard the word nishi: “When I googled Nishi, it showed up as a

Japanese surname and an Indian first name. It’s Sankrit [sic] for Night. So I googled Nishi along

with Vagina and all I got was a compiled list of words for vagina from The Vagina Monologues.

No history. No background. No origins” (“The Nishi Monologue” 21 October 2009). Even for

native English speakers, Ensler’s text creates an impression of unfamiliarity. Moreover, it

implicitly reveals the fact that it is precisely the dominant patriarchal discourse that objectifies

female genitals as something unspeakable/unmentionable, thus erasing the multiple linguistic

symbols from the rhetorical repertoire. Given the political agenda in the original, both Ch’en’s

and Ting and Ch’iao’s highly foreignized renditions will be examined in a different light. By

leaving the English words in the translation and providing the reader with corresponding

dictionary meanings in brackets, the Taiwanese translators respectively produce a text that

8 Yu is referring to Ch’en Ts’ang-to here. The inconsistency in spelling is resulted from the differences between two

romanization systems for Mandarin Chinese. Instead of Wade-Giles, Yu uses Pinyin in her article.



17

resembles a gloss translation, which closely aligns with the original form. Yet at the same time,

both translations engender a sense of bewilderment, as the original text does to the source-

language reader, in the target-language reader since the terms are not exactly translated, but

cross-referenced to one another in a more or less implicit way. Such a gesture, I argue, signals

that both translated texts challenge a male-centered perspective on decoding literary texts by

deliberately deviating from the mainstream reading habit and encouraging the reader to search for

the female knowledge that has long been forgotten.

Nevertheless, there are indeed a few problematic issues that exist in Ch’en’s translation, which

Ting and Ch’iao fix later in their version. When it comes to translating place names, Ch’en’s fails

to keep it consistent throughout his translation. For instance, he translates “Great Neck” literally

into Chinese as “大頸 da jin [big neck]”, yet transliterates “Westchester” as “威斯徹斯特 Wei si

che si te” just a few lines later. In this specific case, not only does 大頸 sound preposterous in

Chinese, but also the inconsistency may pose difficulties for the curious readers when they set out

to find those places on a map. In Ting and Ch’iao version, the translators consistently adopt

transliteration—a more widely used technique— for place names. They also include the original

English names in brackets for further reference. In a similar vein, Ch’en’s constant switch

between bilingual translation and “zero translation” (Yu 2015:108) could leave a general

audience in confusion. Ting and Ch’iao, although using the same strategies, insert a footnote to

explain their rationale: “以下皆為稱呼陰道的俚語或用法，此處保留原文，並以括弧標註中

文涵義；狀聲詞及名字則不譯出 [What follows is a list of slang and phrases for vagina. Here,

we kept the English words in our translation, while providing you with the corresponding

Chinese definitions in brackets. However, we left untranslated certain onomatopoeic words and

proper nouns]” (2014:43). With this translators’ note, the reader gains a better understanding of

not only the specific quality of each word but also the translators’ implicit intervention.

What Happened to “Down There” in Translation?

In addition to reclaiming vaginal terms and reconfiguring the female body as properly public, The

Vagina Monologues also brings to light the upsetting fact that women have been continually

visited by violence; more devastatingly, the violence is constantly directed at the vagina. This

political agenda is ostensibly revealed by Ensler’s activist statement in her introduction to the



18

tenth anniversary edition of The Vagina Monologues that the play is meant to “ma[ke] violence

against women abnormal, extraordinary, unacceptable” (Ensler 2008a:xx). Moreover, several

monologues in the play, such as “Hair,” “My Vagina Was My Village,” and “The Little Coochi

Snorcher That Could,” further highlight that ending sexual violence against women should

become the focal point of feminist movements in the new millennium.

The issue of gendered violence illustrated in Ensler’s play, however, did not only apply to the

U.S. at the end of the twentieth century. As I have explained earlier, sexual harassment on

campus and domestic violence were under the spotlight in Taiwan at almost the same time.

According to Wang Ya-ko (2001:122), several male professors were accused of sexual

misconduct and fired by their institutions from 1995 to 1997. In 1996, the rape and assassination

of Peng Wan-ju, a feminist politician, sparked multiple feminist campaigns fighting for women’s

safety and autonomy. Since the end of the twentieth century, concerns about ending violence

against women have never ceased in Taiwanese society. The comfort women controversy, for

instance, has continually been a heated topic in the public discourses of social justice and

gendered violence.

It is safe to say that both Ch’en’s translation of The Vagina Monologues and Ting and Ch’iao’s

retranslation aim at validating feminist ideology and endorsing Taiwanese feminist activism. The

translators, however, deal with descriptions of sexual violence in the text in divergent ways.

Ch’en is fairly restrained from laying bare the sexual violence against women depicted in the

play, while Ting and Ch’iao are more attentive to details and attempt to bring to the light the

physical and psychological trauma of being sexually assaulted. For instance, in the monologue

titled “hair,” Ensler accounts the story of a woman who used to shave her vagina to please her

husband. When her husband makes love to her, her hairless vagina “felt the way a beard must

feel. It felt good to rub it, and painful. Like scratching a mosquito bite. It felt like it was on fire”

(Ensler 2008a:9). Ch’en translates the sentences as “我的陰道感覺起來像鬍子給我的感覺。摩

擦它時，感覺起來很好，有點疼痛，像是搔蚊子咬過的地方” (Ensler 1998:34). This

seemingly precise rendition, in fact, creates ambiguity and downplays the degree of male

intrusion, as Ch’en translates “painful” as “有點疼痛 [it hurt a bit]” and “like scratching a

mosquito bite” as “像是搔蚊子咬過的地方 [like rubbing the place where a mosquito bit me]. In



19

Ting and Ch’iao’s rendition, the sentence goes like “我的陰道就像是剛刮過鬍鬚的下巴，摩擦

它時產生的刺痛就像是抓破了蚊子叮咬的地方” (Ensler 2008b:46). Unlike Ch’en, who

highlights the pleasurable sensation (“感覺起來很好 [it felt so good]”) while playing down the

unpalatable one (“有點疼痛 [it hurt a bit]”), Ting and Ch’iao emphasize the pain and the

humility that this woman experiences from exposing her hairless vagina to her husband in their

translation by omitting a part of the original—“[i]t felt good to rub it” (Ensler 2008a:9)—and

making it blatant that the sensation resembles the prickling when one cuts his or her skin slightly

with nails (“像是抓破了蚊子叮咬的地方 [it felt like I cut my skin with my nails when

scratching a mosquito bite]”). Although their rendition is not, technically speaking, faithful to the

original, Ting and Ch’iao, in fact, do grasp the central ideas of this particular monologue, which

is to expose domestic violence—no matter how “insignificant” it seems—and encourage women

to take control of their own bodies. Such messages do not only correspond to the ideologies of

the second wave of Taiwanese feminism, but also align with the social agendas of the sponsor of

the 2014 retranslation. In the foreword of the 2014 retranslation, Chi Hui-jung, a representative

from the Garden of Hope Foundation, points out that the translators’ lexical and semantic choices

are meant to create a feminist sorority, helping the contemporary Taiwanese women rediscover

their own desires and bodies (2014:8-9). Furthermore, in this particular context of feminist

translation, Ting and Ch’iao’s “perfidious” rendition also challenges the gender politics of

translation itself, in that the translated text, in a way, overthrows the entrenched paternity of the

original.

Such difference in word choice and the various affects that each word embodies can also be

found in the translations of “My Vagina Was My Village”:

ST: Not since the soldiers put a long thick rifle inside me. So cold, the steel rod

canceling my heart. […] Not since they took turns for seven days smelling like feces

and smoked meat, they left their dirty sperm inside me (Ensler 2008a:62-63; italics in

original).

Ch’en’s translation: 自從那些士兵把一把又長又粗的槍放進我的身體裡面，我就

沒有去觸碰。那麼冷，那鋼條抹煞了我的心。 […] 自從他們七天輪流進行，散

發出像排泄物和燻肉的氣味，把骯髒的精液留在我身體裡面，我就沒有去觸碰。

(Ensler 1998:73-74)



20

[Since those soldiers put a long and thick gun into my body, I have not touched it. So

cold, that iron rod wiped out my heart. […] Since they, for seven days, took turns to do

things, emanating smells of feces and smoked meat and leaving their dirty sperm inside

me, I have not touched it] (my back translation).

Ting and Ch’iao’s translation: 直到那些士兵把又長又粗的步槍插入我的身體。那

冰冷的槍桿讓我心如死灰。 […] 直到他們輪流地摧殘了我七天，聞起來像是排

泄物和燻肉，他們把骯髒的精液留在我的體內。 (Ensler 2008b:94-95)

[Not since those soldiers thrust a long and thick rifle into my body. That freezing rod

burned my heart to ashes. […] Not since they took turns to ravish me for seven days,

smelling like feces and smoked meat, they left their dirty sperm inside me] (my back

translation).

Based on Ensler’s interview with a woman from the former Yugoslavia, this monologue portrays

the terrible atrocities committed by aggressors, especially women’s dire experiences of being

assaulted and raped during times of war. Both groups of translators render the cruel phallic

reference (“又長又粗的槍 [a long and thick gun]”/“又長又粗的步槍 [a long and thick rifle]”)

and the unpleasant analogies (“散發出像排泄物和燻肉的氣味 [emanate smells of feces and

smoked meat]”/“聞起來像是排泄物和燻肉 [smell like feces and smoked meat]”) as literally as

possible, conveying the exact source text meaning and developing a sense of empathy. Yet when

comparing the two translations line by line, I argue that Ting and Ch’iao’s version offers a more

excruciating narrative that details the passive female body in a patriarchal context. Instead of “放

進我的身體裡面 [put into my body]”, Ting and Ch’iao choose a much more violent phrase “插

入我的身體 [thrust into my body]” to describe the soldiers’ inhumane assault on the woman.

Unlike Ch’en, who euphemistically translates “they took turns for seven days” as “他們七天輪流

進行 [they, for seven days, took turns to do things],” the translators of the 2014 version make

very explicit the soldiers’ bestial lust by pointing out that “他們輪流地摧殘了我七天 [they took

turns to ravish me for seven days].” By amplifying the traumatic experience that a Bosnian

woman came across during the war, Ting and Ch’iao’s rendition implicitly corresponds to a

women’s rights campaign started as early as 2004 that aspired to bring justice to Taiwanese

comfort women, many of whom shared stories similar to the one recounted in “My Vagina Was

My Village.” Even though this specific episode documents the heinous barbarities that women in

Europe suffered during the Yugoslav Wars, Ting and Ch’iao are able to localize that wartime

experience by highlighting the details of gendered violence shared by the Taiwanese comfort



21

women. Gang rape, for instance, is one of the brutalities that comfort women in Taiwan always

mention in interviews and oral accounts (Ward 2018:4-5). Along with the rifle as a penile

reference, the translators of the 2014 version manage to unearth the pertinent Taiwanese

memories, create an affective space, and remind their target readers of the trauma faced by

women during the Sino-Japanese War.

5. Conclusion

In her introduction to the tenth anniversary edition of The Vagina Monologues, Eve Ensler

reflects upon the interrelations between art and activism as follows: “The art has made the

activism more creative and bold, the activism has made the art more sharply focused, more

grounded, more dangerous” (2008a:xii-xiii). Indeed, The Vagina Monologues, through exercising

its seismic theatrical energy, has contributed significantly to the demystification of the female

body and sexuality and the deconstruction of violence against women. Yet, it is through the

aesthetic and political act of translation, which polyphonizes the original play, that Ensler’s

activist messages reach the global system of feminist solidarity.

In this article, I have demonstrated the key role that translation has been playing in the context of

promoting local, Sinicized feminist agendas in Taiwan and establishing a transnational feminist

solidarity. Translators and other translational agents (publishers, critics, activists, etc.) who are

involved in the dissemination of feminist texts and discourses such as The Vagina Monologues

act as “power brokers” (Collins 2017:xiii). They have been constantly redefining the entrenched

linguistic, cultural, and ideological borders by negotiating local and global issues such as female

knowledge, body and sexual politics, and gendered violence, articulating resistance to the

inveterate gender hierarchy in Taiwan, facilitating the introduction of Western feminism, and

initiating cross-border dialogues. My comparative analysis of Ch’en 2000 and Ting and Ch’iao’s

2014 translations of Ensler’s play also reveals that translations that are produced in different

historical contexts and situated in distinctive socio-cultural systems can find themselves

complementing and confronting one another. It is true that retranslation could happen because of

the inherent flaws of translation itself, yet various translations of an evolving source text

constitute a “spiral-like and vertiginous” (Susam-Sarajeva 2003:6) translational paradigm and

augment the interpretive space. Finally, as feminist knowledge and praxis continue to grow



22

around the globe, translation will remain a central aspect of gender politics. Mooting the cross-

cultural transactions of feminist texts can not only contribute to the conceptualization of

transnational feminism, but also uphold an epistemological openness of the theoretical term.

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Zien Guo, Translating “Unequal Treaties” between China and Great Britain during 1842-1843:

Reconstruction of Ideology and Practice of Power, 27-53 27

Translating “Unequal Treaties” between

China and Great Britain during 1842-1843:

Reconstruction of Ideology and Practice of Power

Zien Guo University of Leeds, UNITED KINGDOM

[email protected]

ABSTRACT

Translation, as the communicative bridge between two discursive systems, plays a

crucial role in manipulating and reconstructing ideologies and reshaping the power

relations that sustain them. Taking the translation of “unequal treaties”1 signed between

China and Britain during 1842-1843 as a case study, the paper examines how Britain

sought more political gains by manipulating the translation of treaties, with the ultimate

goal of delineating how translation negotiates power between discourses by ideological

reconstruction. Based on critical discourse analysis (CDA), the study is carried out

around three dimensions: lexico-grammar, discourse semantics, and context, which focus

respectively on discursive patterns, information delivery, and the sociocultural

environment that conditions translation practice. Notable translation shifts have been

found between the treaties and their translations at lexico-grammatical and semantic

levels, which essentially reflect the power struggle in the given historical period.

Keywords: Unequal treaties; translation; ideological reconstruction; power practice

1. Introduction

“Unequal treaties”, also known as the Treaty System, refers to a series of treaties,

conventions, and agreements signed between the late Qing government2 and Western powers

as a result of military defeats during the 19th and 20th centuries. These treaties have been

1 Also known as the Treaty System. This term, according to Wang Dong (2005: 2), was an invention of the

Nationalist Party in the 1920s to arouse patriotism among common Chinese people. Greenburg (1983: 539)

points out that, “the issue of unequal treaties was framed in moral rather than legal terms”. To define “unequal

treaties”, she has quoted some scholars’ definitions: 1) Hugo Grotius defines “unequal treaties” as those

“lacking reciprocity and imposing permanent or temporary burdens on one of the parties”; 2) Emmerich de

Vattel defines them as “those in which the allies do not reciprocally promise to each other the same things, or

things equivalent”. 2 The Qing dynasty is the last imperial dynasty of China, and the late Qing refers to the period 1840- 1912,

starting from the First Opium War and ending with the collapse of the Qing court and China’s feudalism.




accused of being unequal, as they were concluded under coercion rather than based on mutual

willingness. More importantly, Western nations’ aggressive demands on China, including

opening ports for trade, territorial cession, extraterritoriality, tariff autonomy, and reparation

were legalized in these treaties, which reduced China to an even more unfavorable situation

after its failure on the international battlefield. However, when talking about the inequality of

these treaties, most people tend to focus on their content and the related historical background,

but fail to realize that translation has also contributed to or might even have aggravated the

presumed “inequality”.

Though abolished in the1920s, “unequal treaties” are still significant in academic research

and have attracted great attention within the domains of humanities and social sciences.

Scholars have conducted in-depth studies on “unequal treaties” from historical, legal and

political perspectives, answering questions with regard to their role in China’s modern history,

international law and international relations with Western powers (Qian 1961; Ding et

al.1973; Guo1993; Wang 2005; Li 2010). In the past two decades, some scholars have shifted

attention to a translational perspective, because they have realized that translation, as Baker

(2006: 89) says, “is central to historicity as it is how we have come to know what happened

which, in turn, informs our understanding of the present”. These studies are conducted around

three dimensions: 1) the translated texts, especially the “mistranslation”3 of terminology

(Wong 2014, 2016; Qu 2013, 2014; and Li 2016); 2) translators (Ji & Chen 2007; Hu & Jia

2010; Wong 2011, 2012); and 3) translation activities (Qu 2017). Undoubtedly these

translation studies offer valuable insights, proving that translation plays a crucial role in

shaping history and politics. Yet, most of them focus on the semantic delivery and the

historical environment, with insufficient attention cast upon the linguistic patterns, which, as

part of social semiotics, also reveal the power struggle underneath. Only Fan (1992) studies

linguistic features of the Treaty of Nanking and the Treaty of Wang-Hiya, pointing out that

3 “Mistranslation” implies that the translation itself is incorrect and usually associated with the language

insufficiency of translators, but this is not always the case. Thus, the author labels these “mistranslations” as

alterations in the discussion below (see Section 3.1).




linguistic differences could have caused ideological divergences. While in this study, I

examine the three dimensions within the CDA framework. Equal attention is paid to

linguistic patterns and semantic delivery in textual analysis, with critical comparisons made

on the basis of systemic functional linguistics (SFL). The historical background and the

translators are considered as contextual factors to provide possible explanations for the

discursive discrepancies.

A generic understanding of treaties is a prerequisite for the examination of treaties and their

translations. As legal texts concluded between states within a political context, treaties feature

a unique duality in nature, being both legal and political at the same time. Hence, the text

producers of treaties, drafters or translators, need to strike a balance between legal rigor and

political predisposition during their discursive practices. With regard to “unequal treaties”,

such duality deserves even more attention. Politically speaking, translating “unequal treaties”

is essentially mediation between two powers. As Moon and Fenton (2002: 60) suggest in their

studies on the translation of the Treaty of Waitangi (1840), translation can play a role “in

constructing societies, cultures and ideologies by conveying a completely different discourse”.

Apart from being a textual reproduction, translating “unequal treaties” is an invisible

competition for discourse power, where ideologies have been reshaped from different

political stances in a given historical context.

This paper focuses mainly on the first three treaties signed between the Qing government and

Britain during 1842-43, namely the Treaty of Nanking (1842), General Regulations of Trade

(1843), and the Treaty of the Bogue (1843). These treaties were concluded within two years

after the First Opium War, marking the beginning of the Treaty System. Standing out as

representative “unequal treaties”, they set a model for the follow-up treaties in both content

and style. Moreover, the translators of these treaties were three Westerners appointed by the

British government: John Robert Morrison (British, 1814-1843), Karl Gützlaff (German,

1803-1851), and Robert Thom (British, 1807-1846) (more detailed discussions will be




provided in Section 3.2.2.). Thus, it is meaningful to conduct a critical discourse analysis of

these treaties to see how Britain sought political gains by manipulating the translation of

unequal treaties.

2. Theories and methodology

2.1 Key notions: discourse, ideology, and power

Focusing on actual language use in a variety of sociopolitical settings, critical discourse

analysis (CDA) represents a useful approach to the exploration of ideology and power

embedded in discourse (Fairclough 1989; van Dijk 2008). To begin with, it is necessary to

have a basic understanding of key concepts concerning critical discourse analysis (CDA),

namely discourse, ideology, and power. Discourse is the fundamental notion that discourse

studies and critical discourse analysis reside upon. There is an abundance of definitions with

regard to “discourse” from linguistic, philosophical, and sociological schools, represented by

van Dijk, Foucault, and Bourdieu (Czerwińska 2015). In this study, I adopt the linguistic

definition as “a communicative event” in the form of texts and talks, which places emphasis

on the linguistic structures and language strategies in use in the social context.

Ideology, in Wodak’s definition (1996:18), is “particular ways of representing and

constructing society, which reproduce unequal relations of domination and exploitation”. In a

broader sense, ideology can be the ways of thinking and perceptions of individuals and

institutions, guiding them in construing realities, performing tasks, and enacting relations.

Ideology is usually conveyed and reflected by the semantic meanings and linguistic structures

of a discourse, and it echoes the given economic status as well as the interests and demands

of the ruling class or specific social groups. Usually, there are two sets of ideologies involved

in translation: the translation of ideology and the ideology of translation (Hatim & Mason

1997). The former is generally considered the original ideology in the source text, whereas

the latter the reconstructed ideology in the target text. According to Tymoczko (2003:183),

“The ideology of translation resides not simply in the text translated, but in the voicing and




stance of the translator, and in its relevance to the receiving audience”. This means the target

ideology is not necessarily identical to the original, because the reproduction and reception of

the ideology in the target discourse is always influenced by human factors.

Power, in Fowler’s words (1985:61), is “the ability of people and institutions to control the

behaviors and material lives of others”, which usually implies “an asymmetrical relationship”.

Similar to ideology, there is also a pair of concepts regarding translation and power:

translation in power and power in translation. Translation in power is the actual discursive

practice instructed by the power relations between the source discourse (SD) and target

discourse (TD). It is the power relations that determine what texts are to be translated, by

what people and in what ways; these are the three essential elements constituting translational

practices. Power in translation is the consequential results and effects achieved in these

translational practices, concerning how power is communicated and attained via translation.

Usually, the product of such practice in turn brings substantial social effects and enacts power

relations in a new discourse.

Regarding the triangular relationship between the three concepts, CDA scholars have made

in-depth explorations and discussions (Fairclough 1989, 1998, 2008; van Dijk 2008, 2011).

Ideology can be a useful tool to exercise and achieve power in discourse. The reconstruction

of ideology, pragmatically speaking, is to make the target audience embrace ideas from

another ideological system. Nevertheless, the reconstruction of ideology in translation serves

not only the target audience. In essence, it is a mixed ideology that endeavors to cater for

either side or both sides, reflecting the power struggle between. Reconstructing ideology is

necessarily a form of power practice, and translation provides the field for such practice. In

my opinion, translation can be viewed as an investment in a trade called “power struggle”,

with ideologies as the exchange capital. There are three types of power relations, accounting

for discursive practices in different directions. These are respectively power surplus, power

deficit and power balance using my own terms.




(1) Power surplus (SD outweighs TD): the translator tends to transfer the original ideology

into the target system with utmost faithfulness, and even the ideological differences are

preserved to introduce new ideas and concepts to, and achieve mind control over the

target audience. The translator needs to estimate whether it is profitable to invest

ideological capital, especially those new ideas and concepts strongly contradictory to the

target audience’s conventional mindset, so as to avoid possible negativity or vulnerability

in ideological reception.

(2) Power deficit (TD outweighs SD): the translator generally shows more caution in the

ideological investment, inclined to avoid ideological alienness that might arouse

misunderstandings and resentment among the target audience. It is also possible that the

translator, encouraged by the patron, takes risks to be a loyal messenger in translating

those ideas that are expected to reform TD’s ideological system and consequently reverse

SD’s adversity in power.

(3) Power balance (SD equals TD): the translator has more say in his/her ideological

investment in translation, in accordance with different purposes and patrons of the

translation practices, and the relation between two discourses is no longer one-way power

abuse, but instead a two-way power contest.

2.2 Research framework

Critical discourse analysis (CDA) provides the theoretical foundation for this paper, with

Halliday’s systemic functional linguistics applied as the analytic tool in the case study.

Language, taken as social semiotics, for example, by Halliday (2014), performs three

meta-functions: 1) construing human experience (ideational); 2) enacting interpersonal and

social relationships (interpersonal); and 3) organizing the discursive flow and creating

cohesion and continuity (textual) (Halliday & Matthiessen 2014: 29-30). These three

meta-functions together form the foundation of ideology in language, and data analysis will

center on the meta-functions in discussing translation and ideology. As Munday (2014:134)




proposes, there is an inverted triangular schema of the Hallidayan model of language with six

strata, and “the direction of influence is top down”, from sociocultural environment,

discourse, genre, register, and discourse semantics to lexico-grammar. However, in this paper,

the CDA analysis is carried out bottom up: firstly descriptive, then interpretative, and

ultimately explanatory, generally based on Fairclough’s three-dimensional model (1989:26).

“Translation shifts” will be a useful tool to examine the subtle ideological discrepancy

between two discourses at the lexico-grammatical and semantic levels. There are different

categorizations of translation shifts proposed by Nida (1964), Catford (1965) and Machali

(1998). Nida, when discussing dynamic equivalence in translation, proposes three main

categories of translation shifts: additions, subtractions, and alterations. Catford (1965:73),

relying on “his distinction between formal correspondence and textual equivalences” (Cyrus

2009: 90), divides translation shifts into two groups: level shifts and category shifts, while the

latter are further divided into four categories: unit, structure, class, and intra-system shifts.

Machali proposes two types of shifts in accordance with the necessity of shifts: obligatory

shifts and optional shifts. However, it is sometimes difficult to define whether the linguistic

shifts are caused by language conventions or ideological motivations, or in some cases, the

translators’ stylistic preferences in language usage. Thus, only Nida’s and Catford’s

categorizations are adopted in this paper for descriptive studies, and the shifts are to be

analyzed by using the “five key sets of resources for making meaning as text”: APPRAISAL,

IDEATION, CONJUNCTION, IDENTIFICATION, and PERIODICITY,” which are

proposed by Martin and Rose (2003: 16), based on the Hallidayan systemic functional

grammar. Since these translation shifts are subtle and their statistical proportions might not be

as prominent as expected, corpus techniques were not used in this study. Instead, more

attention has been paid the interpretation of these shifts by making critical comparisons based

on close reading. Thus, this paper is essentially qualitative rather than quantitative. However,

quantitative research can make the findings more objective and convincing and should be

seriously considered in further research.




3. Data analysis on the treaties and their translations

3.1 Into the manipulation – textual analysis

This section attempts to answer HOW power is negotiated across discourses via translation.

Drawing on critical comparisons between the English and Chinese versions, the paper finds

that there exist certain discursive discrepancies between them. As Munday proposes (2007:

213), “the lexicogrammatical choices of the author reproducing an ideology and conveying a

representation of reality that favours the powerful side” and “such shifts usually have an

ideological motivation”. Britain was then enjoying a “power surplus” that enabled their

translators to manipulate the discursive patterns as well as information delivery. The

translation shifts do subtly change the ideology: the ideological effect of some information

has been amplified or weakened. In this way, the target audience could construe the “realities

and truths” as the dominant power anticipates, and eventually perceive the attitudes

underneath. The following examples demonstrate what and how “realties and truths” were

presented to the target audience.

Example 1:

ST: There shall henceforward be Peace and Friendship between Her Majesty the Queen

of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, and His Majesty the Emperor of

China, and between their respective Subjects, who shall enjoy full security and

protection for their persons and property within the Dominions of the other. (Article I,

Treaty of Nanking)

TT: 嗣后大清大皇帝、大英君主永存平和，所屬華英人民彼此友睦，各往他國者必

受該國保佑身家全安。

BT: Henceforward His Majesty the Emperor of China and Her Majesty the Monarch of

the United Kingdom of Great Britain shall maintain peace forever, and their respective

Subjects be friendly to each other; whoever goes to one country shall be secured and




protected for their persons and properties by the other country.4 (My translation)

This is the first article in the Treaty of Nanking, conveying the overall theme of these treaties,

namely to end misunderstandings and hostilities as well as pursue peace and friendship

between two states. The two texts maintain high consistency in their core ideas, while

conspicuous differences are detected when comparing their transitivity structures5. Such

structural shifts can be examined from three elements: process, participants, and

circumstances within the system of Ideation.

The main clause is accordingly split into two symmetrical structures in the target text – “the

Emperor and the Queen maintain peace” and “Chinese and British subjects are friendly”.

Obviously, the translator conformed to Chinese language conventions by using parallelism, a

rhetoric device favored in Chinese, to achieve the textual formality as expected in Chinese

official documents and enhance the mood with regard to the “peace and love” theme of the

Treaty. The existential process in the source text is transformed into two processes in other

categories, material and relational, with the “between... and...” circumstantial phrase reshaped

as two subjects for the parallel clauses. The obscureness carried by the original “there be”

structure is eliminated with the participants of the given processes explicitly addressed as

subjects. Taking the thematic position in the clauses, the participants are assumed to take

greater initiative for the central actions, namely maintaining peace and mutual friendship.

As for the attributive clause, the subject of the clause remains the British and Chinese

Subjects in both texts, yet the action is conceptualized and narrated from two opposite

4 My back translation is based on the target text, lexico-grammatically and semantically, so as to display the

basic linguistic structures of the Chinese versions to make comparisons with the original English versions. Thus,

some expressions might seem not native in English. The back-translated version is for reference only. 5 Regarding the Chinese transitivity system, Eden Sum-hung Li categorizes the processes into four groups:

mental, verbal, material, and relational (2007: 44-46). This could be slightly different from the Hallidayan

categorization, which further separates material into “material” and “behavioral”, and relational into “relational”

and “existential”. The Hallidayan categorization is used in my study. Whether there are process shifts between

texts depends on which categorization is used, and there is no settled answer.




perspectives. In the source text, the subject is the agent of the action because the subject itself

does the action, namely “enjoying”. The real actions have been nominalized as “security and

protection”, performed by an abstract verb “enjoy”. This is a typical “Actor + Process +

Goal” construction, whose information stress falls upon the Actor, namely the right holder in

this case. However, the translator used a passivized “Actor + Process+ Beneficiary + Goal”

construction in the target text and the central action has been changed into “being secured and

protected”. The right holder is described from the perspective of the Beneficiary instead of

the Actor, and the underlying responsible party has been made visible, with their role of the

Actor resumed in the target text. More importantly, the material process has been given

greater mobility, with the central action freed from nominalization via translation, being more

concrete and dynamic, and fitting Chinese people’s habitual ideological commitments.

Example 2:

ST: The Emperor of China agrees to pay the sum of Six Millions of dollars as the

value of Opium which was delivered up at Canton in the month of March 1839, as a

Ransom for the lives of Her Britannic Majesty’s Superintendent and Subjects, who

had been imprisoned and threatened with death by the Chinese High Officers.

(Article IV, Treaty of Nanking)

TT: 因大清欽差大憲於道光十九年二月間經將大英國領事官及民等人強留粵

省，嚇以死罪，索出鴉片以為贖命，今大皇帝准以洋銀六百萬銀元補償原價。

BT: Since the Chinese High Officers, in the month of March 1839, had imprisoned

and threatened Her Britannic Majesty’s Superintendent and Subjects with death, and

delivered up Opium as a Ransom for their lives, the Emperor of China now agrees to

pay the sum of Six Millions of dollars as the value of Opium. (My translation)

This article is about China’s reparation to Britain for the opium confiscated in Humen (also

known as the Bocca Tigris or Bogue) in 1839. The two texts are experientially equivalent, but

the two shifts in Periodicity have conveyed an ideology more approachable to the Chinese




audience. There are two types of waves with regard to information flow (Martin & Rose

2003). The first notable shift is a little wave of information concerning Themes and News,

caused by the usage of different voices. Theme, as the “peak of prominence at the beginning

of the clause” (2003: 177), is where information departs, and New is the “information we are

expanding upon as text unfolds” (Ibid: 179). In this example, there is a thematic shift from

Britain to China, consequently leading to transitivity shifts regarding the central process. This

shows the contrast between “operative” and “receptive” of the given transitive clauses

(Halliday & Matthiessen 2014: 182). Linguistically speaking, passive voice is

patient-oriented, whereas active voice is agent-oriented. The source text highlights Britain’s

victim image by narrating Britain’s sufferings in a passive tone and telling that Britain had

been mistreated by China, so as to justify Britain’s demand for reparation. On the contrary,

the target text emphasizes China’s guilty image, and thus the translator used active voice to

describe Chinese authorities’ mistreatments, telling that China had mistreated Britain, which

aims to convince the Qing government of its obligation to pay for misdeeds.

The second shift takes place in a bigger wave of information concerning hyperThemes and

hyperNews, namely the “larger scale patterning of phases of discourse” (2003:181). These

could be understood as Themes and News at the clausal level, and this is also closely related

to the system of Conjunction that shows how events are connected in a discourse. There is a

reverse positioning of hyperThemes and hyperNews with regard to the consequential logic

about Britain’s demand for reparation. It is recognized that different narratives cater for

different parties, and reframing the narratives, as Baker suggests (2006:107), can help

promote competing discourse, which are “important implications for different parties to the

conflict”. In the source text, the logic is presented in an effect-cause order as “China agrees

to pay (hyperTheme), because China had done misdoings (hyperNew)”, while in the target

text, it has been restated in a cause-effect order as “Because China had done something

wrong (hyperTheme), it agrees to pay as compensation (hyperNew)”. This means China

having mistreated Britain is displayed as an acknowledged fact underpinning Britain’s




demand for compensation in the target discourse, which conveys an underlying message that

China had admitted guilt before the negotiation and thus strengthens the rationality of the

ensuing demand.

Examples 1 and 2 show how realities are represented and construed in discourse, with

attention paid to the realization of the ideational and textual meta-functions. Now it is time to

turn to how attitudes are negotiated across discourse via translation; the system of Appraisal6

is adopted to examine the performance of the interpersonal meta-function in both discourses.

Example 3:

ST: An English Officer will be appointed at Hong Kong one part of whose duty will be to

examine the registers and Passes of all Chinese Vessels that may repair to that Port to

buy or sell Goods, … (Article XIV, Treaty of the Bogue)

TT:香港必須特派英官一員，凡遇華船赴彼售貨、置貨者，將牌照嚴形稽查。BT: An

English Officer must be appointed at Hong Kong; whenever seeing Chinese Vessels may

repair to Hong Kong to buy or sell Goods, he is to seriously examine the registers and

Passes. (My translation)

Graduation is applied to examine the minor modal shift in translation and explore the two

governments’ attitudes towards the appointment of an officer at Hong Kong. The

underlinedl will here could be understood either: 1) as a modal verb in the modulation

group, showing inclination and ability to perform the act; 2) as an auxiliary verb, indicating

future tense and the possibility of carrying out this act. Interestingly, the translator put it

into 必须 (meaning “must”), the highest-value modal expressing obligation in Chinese.

6 The Appraisal system comprises three interrelated subsystems: Attitude, Graduation, and Engagement.

Attitude is about the ways of feelings, which are further divided into three subsystems: affect, judgment, and

appreciation. Graduation is “a general property of values of affect, judgment and appreciation that they construe

greater or lesser degrees of positivity or negativity” (Martin & White 2005: 135). Engagement, as the sources of

attitudes, provides “a heteroglossic backdrop of prior utterances, alternative viewpoints and anticipated

responses” (Ibid: 97).




This modal shift from the inclination group to the obligation group, with its scale being

intensified to the highest level, has inevitably reshaped the underlying ideology and

exerted power abuse in an imperceptible manner. For “(a)t each pole of these scales of

modality is the choice of positive and negative polarity” (2003: 48), the usage of 必须 has

successfully highlighted the appointment of an English officer at Hong Kong as a must in

the Chinese text, and there is scarcely room for China to show objection and prevent

Britain's occupation of the Island of Hong Kong. This faithfully mirrored Britain's

determination in occupying this territory of strategic importance, and it can be taken as the

translator's efforts to represent the original ideology of the party he served, namely the

British government.

Examples 1-3 mainly discuss lexico-grammatical shifts in translation, while the following

examples concern those semantic shifts in the form of additions, subtractions, and alterations.

By comparison, information asymmetry has been detected in some places of the target texts,

which amplifies or weakens the ideological effect, or even alters how “realities and truths”

are represented in the target system.

Example 4:

ST: ... should any persons whatever infringe the stipulations of this Article and wander

away into the Country, they shall be seized and handed over to the British Consul for

suitable punishment. (Article VI, Treaty of the Bogue)

TT: 倘有英人違背此條禁約，擅到內地遠游者，不論系何品級，即聽該地方民人捉

拿，交英國管事官依情處罪，但該民人等不得擅自毆打傷害，致傷和好。

BT: Should any British persons infringe the stipulations of this Article and wander away

into the Country, whatever official ranks, they shall be seized by the Chinese locals and

handed over to the British Consul for suitable punishment; however, the locals cannot

beat or harm them presumptuously without permission, which harms the mutual

friendship. (My translation)




This example is about the restraints upon British subjects within the dominion of China, and

it shows how the translator amplified the ideological effect by means of addition. Both texts

share the same topic, namely, how to implement extraterritoriality7, but the two additional

pieces of information in the target text have further clarified the respective responsibilities of

two parties involved. The first addition, supplementing that it is for Chinese locals to seize

the British subjects violating the stipulations within the dominion of China, manages to point

out the Actor of the given actions and prevent any misunderstanding that might harm the

jurisdiction of both sides. The second addition, saying that Chinese locals cannot hurt the

British subjects even within the dominion of China, falls into the “disclaim” group in

Engagement. Such addition in the form of negation serves two ideological purposes. On one

hand, it echoes the historical cause that Chinese authorities had imposed punishments upon

British Subjects who infringed rules and entered the town, which also conveyed a sense of

condemnation on the British side. On the other hand, it draws a clear line between the rights

and duties of China and Britain, so as to avoid possible disputes afterwards and, more

importantly, protect the persons of British subjects. This example shows that Britain actually

cared greatly about extraterritoriality, with a stronger mood conveyed to the Chinese audience,

namely the Qing government.

Besides altering the information amount by additions or subtractions, the translators also

adjusted the semantic focus and force of key concepts to achieve ideological purposes. The

following example shows how the changing connotations of key concepts help aggravate

Britain’s power abuse upon China in bilateral negotiations.

Example 5:

ST: It being obviously necessary and desirable, that British Subjects should have

some Port whereat they may careen and refit their Ships, when required, and keep

7 Extraterritoriality, namely each country administrating its own people regardless of dominions, can be viewed

as a non-transparent form of colonization, which essentially encroaches upon the other’s sovereignty in

jurisdiction.




Stores for that purpose. His Majesty the Emperor of China cedes to Her Majesty the

Queen of Great Britain, etc., the Island of Hongkong, to be possessed in perpetuity by

Her Britannic Majesty, Her Heirs and Successors, and to be governed by such Laws

and Regulations as Her Majesty the Queen of Great Britain, etc., shall see fit to

direct. (Article III, Treaty of Nanking)

TT: 因大英商船遠路涉洋，往往有損壞須修補者，自應給予沿海一處，以便修

船以存守所有物料。今大皇帝准將香港一島給予大英君主暨嗣後世襲主位者常

遠據守主掌，任便立法處理。

BT: Since British Ships come from afar across the distant sea and often need repair,

it is obviously necessary to give British Subjects some Port whereat they may careen

and refit their Ship and keep Stores for that purpose. His Majesty the Emperor of

China agrees to give Her Majesty the Queen of Great Britain, etc., the Island of

Hongkong, to be possessed in the long term by Her Britannic Majesty, Her Heirs and

Successors, and to be governed by such Laws and Regulations as Her Majesty the

Queen of Great Britain, etc., shall see fit to direct. (My translation)

This article concerns China’s cession of the Island of Hong Kong to Britain, which involves

some notable intra-system shifts. Firstly, two wavy-underlined adverbials that modify the

central processes have been amplified or weakened in their semantic intensity. The adverbial

“when required” was rendered into an adverb with a higher scaling of force – 往往

(meaning “often”), which implies an even more imperative demand for a port than the source

text suggests. However, regarding the term of territorial cession, the translator lowered the

temporal value by putting the phrase in perpetuity into 常远 (meaning “for the long term”).

In perpetuity, literally suggesting permanence, indicates that the territorial cession would last

forever and there shall be no chance for China to recover the Island; while 常远 implies there

is still weak possibility of China’s recovery of Hong Kong. Britain, with an expanding

ambition during its colonial progression, undeniably preferred the former, whereas China,

taking this cession as a compromising act, opted for the latter. This alteration could be seen as




the translator’s efforts to settle the unspoken dispute over the term of the territorial cession.

At the same time, the translator also managed to reshape the ideology and negotiate different

attitudes by using alterations to represent the central processes. The underlying have in the

source text was given a seemingly unmatched word 给予 (meaning “give”). There are two

interpretations: 1) China is to give some Port; 2) or Britain is to be given some Port. The

source text starts from the one who is to possess this port, while the target text places

emphasis on who is to cede the port. The different narrative perspectives serve different

ideological purposes, though both in favour of Britain. The source text indicates Britain’s

ambition of possessing the Island with a stronger sense of ownership, while the target text

stresses more on the ceding action itself as well as its Actor – China. The underlying verb

cede was translated into 给予 (meaning “give”) as well. The original expression reveals the

truth behind this action that China was forced to give up the territory to Britain after the

military defeat, while the translation reshapes the territorial cession as a generous offer by

China. This has brought attitudinal advantages that China’s national dignity was preserved on

the international stage, and Britain’s aggression was disguised and even glorified as a symbol

of friendship.

Example 6

ST：Her Majesty the Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, and His

Majesty the Emperor of China, being desirous of putting an end to the

misunderstandings and consequent hostilities which have arisen between the two

Countries,... (Treaty of Nanking)

TT:兹因大清皇帝，大英君主欲以近來之不和之端解釋，止肇釁......

BT: Since the Emperor of China and the Monarch of the United Kingdom of Great

Britain and Ireland desire to end the misunderstandings and consequent hostilities

between the two Countries, ... (My translation)




When addressing the Queen in the target text, the translator used a non-corresponding

expression 君主 (meaning “monarch” or “sovereign”). In fact, there have been equivalent

lexical items in Chinese, such as 女王 (meaning “female monarch”) and 王后 (meaning

“king’s wife”), so this translation shift was not caused by the so-called “translation vacuum”.

The translator, taking into account the Chinese audience’s attitudes towards a male or female

monarch, chose to blur the gender of the title by using 君主, which is more general and

inclusive for its indetermination in gender. Given that China was then a patriarchal society

where men assumed dominance over women in power hierarchy, femininity was generally

associated with negativity whereas masculinity with positivity. Thus, a female monarch was

unpopular and unlikely to earn equal respect and worship as a male monarch did. It would be

risky to faithfully present the gender of the Queen to the Chinese audience who had held a

poor impression of female monarchs since ancient times8. Their perception of “men in

power” hierarchy was deep-rooted and unlikely to be changed within a short time. Even

though Britain was then enjoying a “power surplus”, the translator still had to carefully

consider if the ideological investment into the target system would be profitable. The

manifestation of an indeterminate gender helps avoid or lessen the possible negativity

triggered by the target ideological system, thus recreating a power balance between the two

heads of states during political encounters.

It can be concluded from Examples 5 and 6 that, translating ideologies from one system into

another is a process of negotiation and compromise. The incompatibilities between two

ideological systems are difficult to tackle. Whether to reproduce or dissolve the original

ideology in the target discourse is not only determined by the power relations between the

two parties, but also influenced by the translator’ s prejudgment about how the target

audience might perceive the original ideology.

8 In fact, many Chinese officers held an unwelcoming attitude towards the Queen of Great Britain, and even

deemed it shameful to put the British Queen side by side with the Chinese Emperor in the very beginning of the

Treaty. For example, Li Xingyuan, one Chinese governor in Jiangsu, had expressed his discontent about this

addressing problem in his diary.




Overall, while the examples shown in this study might involve the ideological discourse in

English being strengthened (e.g. Example 3) or at times weakened (e.g. Example 6) in

Chinese, these nonetheless are interesting and salient signs of translators' manipulation from

the perspective of ideology and power. Whatever the ideological effect achieved in the target

discourse, amplified or weakened, Britain was the beneficiary from the beginning to the end.

Enjoying a power surplus, Britain managed to justify the unfair demands and disguise its

aggressive image via translation. In this sense, translation did contribute to the inequality of

these treaties.

3.2 Behind the manipulation – contextual analysis

The section above, being descriptive and interpretative, mainly explores “power in

translation”, namely HOW power is negotiated via translation, with discussions about the

translation of ideology and the ideology of translation in a comparative manner. This section,

being explanatory, tries to answer the WHY question regarding “translation in power”; the

socio-historical background and translators should be taken into account: historical events are

invisible paratexts themselves that constitute the overall social settings for the (re) production

as well as interpretation of the specific texts; while translators are the agent enacting power

relations in their discursive practice.

3.2.1 Social-historical background

The socio-historical background is, in nature, the macro-discourse that governs the specific

discursive practice. The Treaty System was born in the successive conflicts between Imperial

China and Western powers, and witnessed the breakdown of the Celestial Empire. Trade

between China and Britain dates back to the 17th century, the Ming period of China. Chinese

goods, such as silk and porcelain, enjoyed great popularity in the Western markets, leading to

the European nations suffering severe trade deficits. Then Britain began to traffic and trade

opium to China to turn the situation around. Opium was an injection of poison into the vein

of the conservative Chinese people, forcing the Qing government to take action to prohibit




opium transportation and trade within the dominion of China. China’s consequential

counter-attack, namely Commissioner Lin Zexu confiscating opium at Humen, became

Britain’s excuse to declare war on China during 1840-42. Unsurprisingly, the Celestial

Empire had already lagged behind due to its closed-door policy and was unable to withstand

the heavy gunfire of Britain. Soon after the British Army occupied Zhenjiang, the Qing

government surrendered to Britain’s aggression and sent representatives for peace talks.

Having suffered defeats on the battlefield, the Chinese officers, Keying and Elepoo,

appointed by the Emperor for the political negotiations with Britain, advocated a conciliatory

policy to end foreign hostilities and seek temporary peace from warfare (Jiang 1958);

however, they had less say than the British superintendents during the bilateral negotiations.

Such a socio-historical background foreshadowed China’s failure in the power struggle

underlying the treaty translation. Western powers just rode roughshod over China, projecting

China’s guilty image to justify those unequal demands as proper claims in these treaties (see

Example 2).

After receiving Pottinger's demands on August 14, they submitted the next day "a

new list of the articles of agreement for commerce, peace, and good will," to which

Sir Henry replied on the seventeenth by sending them a draft of the treaty, delayed a

day by the necessity of careful translation into Chinese. This the Chinese negotiators

straightway accepted, on August 19, meanwhile sending it to Peking for approval.

(Fairbank, 1940: 27)

According to Fairbank, there was limited time for the translators to render the texts. Both

sides were so eager to conclude the treaties for their own interests that the representatives

failed to seriously deal with the translation problem of these treaties within a short timeframe.

Given that international law had not yet been introduced to China and there was no

established framework for such treaties, several legal terms lacked counterparts in the

Chinese language system (Svarverud 2007). The translators were attempting to introduce




these novel concepts into the Chinese ideological system in their own ways. For example,

supplementary information was added in Example 4 to clarify “extraterritoriality” that might

raise both governments’ concerns about jurisdiction. The Chinese representatives were

incapable of noticing the minor differences in discursive patterns and semantic meanings

caused by translation, thus allowing the translators certain fault-tolerance in translating the

treaties. Furthermore, in the unspoken rule concerning the validity of two versions of treaties

– “should there be any disputes, the English version prevails”9, there was undoubtedly a huge

grey area for those having language advantages to play word games and seek political gains.

They could alter the semantic force of key concepts to confuse the English-illiterate Chinese

government about the nature of unequal demands (see Example 5), or even impose greater

pressure upon China to fulfill its promise (see Examples 3 and 4).

3.2.2 Translators

Translators, as the agent of power, are also one crucial factor that influences the

reconstruction of ideology. First and foremost, the two countries held different attitudes

towards translators and interpreters. Long before the outbreak of the First Opium War, the

British government had already recognized the importance of language in international issues,

such as trade and political negotiations, and trained and recruited some language

professionals for international encounters. In contrast, the Qing government ignored the

outside world that had developed far beyond its imagination, and held strong resistance to

foreigners as well as new things. It showed no trust in those who had a command of foreign

languages, and even treated them as traitors who colluded with foreign invaders (Hu & Jia

2010). This partly explains the absence of Chinese translators in rendering and proofreading

these treaties, which, in consequence, made China lose its own initiative in the political

negotiations.

9 This unspoken rule was once proposed by Lord Palmerston in the Draft of Proposed Treaty with China (1840),

“... that that if any doubts shall arise at any time as to the interpretation to be put upon any part of this Treaty,

those doubts shall be determined by reference to the English version”, but it was not officially written in black

and white in the treaties until the Treaty of Tientsin (1858). (Wong, 2012: 56-57; Qu, 2013:88)




As for the three Westerners participating in translating these treaties: John Robert Morrison

(1814-1843), Karl Gützlaff (1803-1851), and Robert Thom (1807-1846), they shared

similarities in bilingual backgrounds and had rich experience in interpreting and translation,

with works translated and published in other fields. For example, both Morrison and Gützlaff

had learnt Chinese from their predecessors10 and participated in translating the Bible into

Chinese in 1840 (Wylie 1867), while Thom translated Aesop’s Fables into Chinese in the

same year (Le Pichon 2006: 184). Since there were no established institutions in China to

train language professionals then11, it was extremely difficult to find native translators

adequate to such translating tasks. Thus, these Westerners serving as interpreters during

negotiations seemed to be obvious choices as translators for these treaties. However, in view

of the generic uniqueness of treaties, their expertise in law should have been another concern

in assessing whether they were qualified enough to engage in legal translation.

In addition, these translators had multiple social identities that accounted for their failure in

performing “neutral translation”. The discursive discrepancy as presented in Section 3.1

essentially reflects how the translators perceived and reproduced the original ideology of the

text and the party they served. Just as Baker (2006) refers to “selective appropriations”:

A final and related factor that guides our processes of selective appropriation is

our own ‘values’ – the values we subscribe to as individuals or institutions – and

our judgement as to whether the elements selected to elaborate a given narrative

support or undermine those values (2006: 76).

It is understandable that these translators inclined towards Britain when translating treaties,

10 Morrison learned the Chinese language from his father, Robert Morrison, while Gützlaff learned the Malay

and Chinese languages from Mr. Medhurst, who also took part in translating the Bible. 11 It was not until the establishment of the School of Combined Learning (also known as Tongwen Guan) in

1862 did the Qing government start to teach Chinese people Western languages as well as scientific subjects,

including international law.




for they worked for the British government during the First Opium War. Morrison was then

the Chinese Secretary and Interpreter to the Superintendents of British Trade in China;

Gützlaff succeeded to Morrison’s post afterwards; Thom was seconded to the British Army

during the war. They might have tacitly accepted the ideology imposed by the British

government, that is to say, China was the guilty side. This could be reflected in their

reconstruction of China’s image in translation, as is shown in Examples 2 and 4.

Personally, these Westerners also assumed other social roles that could have brought biases to

their translational practices. Gützlaff was a German missionary who devoted himself to

spreading Christianity to the East, and he believed that warfare was an effective means to

open China to the Western world. Also, he and Thom had once worked as interpreters in the

trading house Jardine, Matheson & Co., the chief culprit of trafficking opium to China. Such

working experience might have unconsciously affected their attitudes and perceptions in the

political negotiations as well as translational practices. This accounts for their attempts to

amplify the necessity of appointing an English Officer and owning a port in Examples 3 and

5, for, as people with experience in business, they habitually sought gains for Britain.

4. Conclusion

Drawing upon critical discourse analysis, this paper finds that there were notable structural

and semantic differences between two discourses. Translating “unequal treaties” is not merely

an act to reflect the inequality of the source discourse; it is also a process of increasing

inequality by manipulation in the target discourse. Britain managed to expand its advantage

over China at the negotiation table by manipulating the translation of “unequal treaties”. On

one hand, Britain tried to change China’s habitual way of perceiving the given information by

subtly altering discursive patterns in translation; on the other hand, it introduced new ideas

and concepts to the Chinese ideological system, which were expected to facilitate social

reforms in a China that was ideologically backward on the international stage at that time.




As Fowler (1985) says, language cannot be viewed as “an innocent medium that simply

reflects inequality”, but rather it is also “a practice that contributes to inequality” (1985:62).

Translation, more than a transformation of words that conveys messages from one language

into another, is also a means of negotiating power that contributes to social changes.

Ideological reconstruction takes place everywhere in translation, as trivial as a linguistic shift,

or, as prominent as a semantic alteration. Therefore, such “ideological potential” should be

dealt with meticulously when translating or deciphering these texts, and the role of translation

in social change deserves special attention. It is far from enough to acknowledge that

translation is an important field of power practice. A deeper understanding of how translation

traverses different ideologies and leads to substantial social change should offer valuable

guidance in discursive practices and critical outlooks on the real world.

Furthermore, the sociocultural environment that conditions translation cannot be ignored, for

translation is a discursive practice under the socio-historical background, mirroring the

meta-discourse of the given time and space. Such temporal and spatial meta-discourse behind

translation is always where “truths and realities” lie. Last but not least, “translators” are a key

variable always affecting the outcome of the translational practice. Beyond a messenger

across discourses, the translator is the agent of power and has a say in how to transfer the

messages. Hence, it is worth recognizing the crucial role of translators in reconstructing

ideology and negotiating power, and possibly, approaching them with greater respect, so as to

better understand the “truths and realities” from their pens as well as the outside world

through their eyes.




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Mark Halley, Interpreting as Ideologically-Structured Action: Collective Identity between Activist Interpreters and

Protesters, 54-85 54

Interpreting as Ideologically-Structured Action:

Collective Identity between Activist Interpreters and Protesters

Mark Halley

Gallaudet University, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

[email protected]

ABSTRACT

In this paper, I explore the work of the American Sign Language-English interpreters who

volunteered in the 1988 Deaf President Now protest (DPN). Drawing from the construct of

ideologically-structured action (Dalton 1994; Zald 2000), I frame the interpreters’ decision-

making throughout the protest, showing how their beliefs about and relationships with deaf

people shaped their actions. Further, I argue that the activist interpreters exhibited a collective

identity (Polletta and Jasper 2001) with the deaf protesters, despite not being deaf themselves.

I also discuss the integral role of interpreters to the protesters’ mission of challenging the

existing power structure. To develop my argument, I analyze interview data collected from 27

DPN stakeholders to explore how and why the interpreters volunteered their time to push the

protest forward. The data reveal strong personal and community relationships that motivated

interpreters to volunteer their services. Through my analysis of interview data, I offer an

exploration of the work of signed language interpreters in a specific localised setting, providing

new insight into how ideology and community ties may guide the actions of interpreters in

times of conflict and activism in deaf community settings.

Keywords: Protest; ideology; identity, interpreting

1. Introduction

Baker has argued that the act of translation “does not mediate cultural encounters that exist outside

the act of translation but rather participates in producing these encounters” (2013:23-24). In this

paper, I address and analyse how the role1 and work of American Sign Language-English

interpreters during a particular historical moment pertaining to interactions between deaf

community activists and interpreters in Gallaudet University, USA produced cultural-political

encounters which opened – and still open – questions and reflections on the charged power

1 For a variety of perspectives on the role of interpreters in localised community settings, see Redefining the Role of

the Community Interpreter: The concept of role-space by Peter Llewellyn-Jones and Robert G. Lee (2014).




dynamics at play concerning high-level political decisions relating to higher education and deaf

and signed language communities in their particular localised settings.

In recent years there has been increased scholarly interest in how and why activist translators

participate in collective action. As Tymoczko has argued, “…translation as a successful means of

engagement and social change – like most political actions – requires affiliation and collective

action” (2002:201). Baker explored the work of numerous groups of activist interpreters and

translators (Babels, Tlaxcala, among others), concluding that such groups are “configuring a space

in which specific linguistic performances participate, however subtly, in creating new cultural

situations and new balances of power” (2013:45). But how and why do activist interpreters and

translators offer linguistic mediation that creates such new power balances? One activist group that

provides volunteer interpretation and translation in civil society, ECOS (Traductores e Intérpretes

por la Solidaridad, Translators and Interpreters for Solidarity) describes cultivating an ideology in

which they “work for and with people who require translation and interpreting services” (Manuel

Jerez, López Cortés, and Brander de la Iglesia, n.d.). All these studies relate to agents who can hear

as well as speak and/or read the languages involved. To raise critical awareness of activism by

interpreters working with people not speaking and/or hearing the languages involved, this paper

takes as its focus the protest led by deaf people at Gallaudet University in 1988, and specifically,

how the American Sign Language-English (ASL) interpreters’ decisions and behaviors during this

protest relate to notions of ideologies about language, interpreting, and the people for whom they

interpreted.

Despite the high profile of this historical moment at the time (1988), no study has explored in depth

the role of interpreting and the contributions interpreters made to the multiplicity of authorities

being engaged with and challenged during this protest. In this paper, I contribute to the study of

activist translation and interpretation by analysing the motivation of interpreters to participate, as

cited by these interpreters themselves. That is, I examine the ideologies that seemed to drive

particular interpreters to join this movement as well as their very participation. In other words, this

study works to capture something of the experience of signed language interpreting in a moment

of conflict as recalled and identified by the interpreters themselves. Through the analysis of a series




semi-structured interviews with a number of the interpreters actually involved in the protests, I

explore in this paper the ideological standpoints of interpreters, while explicating the contributing

factors and implications of their ideologies, as they are articulated by the interpreters themselves

from their different retrospective standpoints. I analyse activist interpreters’ articulations through

the lens of social movement studies, an interdisciplinary field that draws upon the knowledge,

theoretical frameworks, and methodological practices of sociology, political science, and social

psychology (Johnston 2014). This paper is an attempt at extending the emerging literature on

activism in translation and interpreting, using social movement studies to understand and shed light

on activist interpreters’ work within contentious political settings (Baker 2006; Ben-Ari 2012;

Salama-Carr 2008),with a focus on American Sign Language-English interpreters in a singular

historical protest.

1.1 Historical background to the study

This paper explores events that took place at Gallaudet University in 1988. Gallaudet, whose

charter was signed in 1864 by United States President Abraham Lincoln, is the world’s only liberal

arts university specifically designed for deaf and hard of hearing students. Often internationally

referred to as both “the Harvard” and “the Mecca” for deaf people, Gallaudet is viewed by many

as both an authority on deaf-related issues, deaf education, and signed languages, as well as the

center of deaf communities, cultivating vibrant exchanges of language, culture, and identity

(Armstrong 2014).

In its first 124 years of existence, six individuals had served as Gallaudet’s president, and each had

been hearing,2 white, and male. After Gallaudet’s sixth president, Dr. Jerry Lee, announced his

resignation in August 1987, the university began a search for an academic leader to serve as its

seventh president. Three finalists were in competition for the position, and two of the candidates

were deaf (Dr. I. King Jordan and Dr. Harvey Corson). Members of the deaf community eagerly

anticipated an announcement from the Gallaudet University Board of Trustees, expecting that the

university would finally have its first deaf president. Instead, they learned on 1 March 1988 that

the board had selected Dr. Elisabeth Ann Zinser – the only hearing finalist. Although Dr. Zinser’s

2 A hearing person is an individual who is not deaf or hard of hearing.




selection as Gallaudet’s first woman president represented a step forward in advancing leadership

by women on campus, many felt it was time for the world’s only university specifically designed

for deaf students to be led by a deaf person. To make matters worse, Dr. Zinser did not know

American Sign Language and had no experience working with deaf people or teaching deaf

students. As word spread of the board’s decision to appoint Dr. Zinser over two deaf finalists,

students, faculty, staff, and other members of the American deaf community sprang into action.

Immediately following the news of Dr. Zinser’s selection, protesters launched a groundbreaking

week of protest, locking down the university campus and garnering unprecedented media attention,

with local and national press reporting on the events in print and on the air. Through their actions,

deaf protesters sought to challenge the hearing-centric power structures within their university.

During this week of protest, four Gallaudet community members emerged as student leaders,

organizing efforts on and off campus. Noteworthy events during the week of protest include

marches to the United States Capitol, meetings with members of Congress, and on-campus rallies.

After eight days of relentless demonstrations, the protesters were successful in forcing the board to

comply with each of their four stated demands: 1) Zinser’s resignation as president, to be replaced

by a deaf individual, 2) the resignation of the Chair of the Gallaudet University Board of Trustees,

3) a 51% deaf majority on the Board of Trustees, and 4) no reprisals against demonstrators (i.e.,

punishment for Gallaudet students and faculty involved with the protest). This outcome has been

described as “unusually successful” relative to similar student movements, such as the 1960s Free

Speech Movement at the University of California, Berkeley (Christiansen and Barnartt 1995:168).

The historic week of revolt that unfolded on Gallaudet’s campus and across the nation’s capital

later came to be known as the Deaf President Now (DPN) protest.

One critical way that DPN protesters shared their message and engaged in claims-making activities

(Lindekilde 2013) was by communicating through American Sign Language-English interpreters.

Deaf historian Jack Gannon (1989) reported that approximately 70 interpreters were on Gallaudet’s

campus during the tumultuous week. These interpreters in effect became integral part of the claims-

making activities albeit at the same time, none of them took on any leadership role within the DPN

activist movement, despite their relatively large numbers. In contexts of social movement studies,

however, the interpreters can be considered as movement actors (Tarrow and Tilly 2015), or




individuals who undertake some sort of collective action. As movement actors in DPN, the

interpreters directly participated in a variety of claims-making activities through the act of

interpreting live and recorded media interviews, student-led rallies, altercations with the police,

among other interactions.

While one might assume that protesters and interpreters joined the protest because they were united

in the fight for a deaf president, a close investigation and analysis of motivations of the American

Sign Language-English (ASL) interpreters is yet to be explored in contexts of social movement

theory. Scholars of social movements suggest that people decide to join social movements for three

overarching reasons: because they have been aggrieved, because they have the resources to

mobilize into action, and because they perceive and take advantage of political opportunities

(Klandermans 2001). However, these three reasons do not appear to adequately explain these ASL

interpreters’ participation. Neither does a “desire to change circumstances” (Klandermans

2001:276) fully explain the intensity of the interpreters’ participation in these protests, or their

ideological motivation. While one might assume that protesters and interpreters joined the protest

because they were united in the fight for a deaf president, a close investigation and analysis of

motivations of the American Sign Language-English (ASL) interpreters is yet to be explored in

contexts of social movement theory.3 In this paper, I thus attempt to explain how and why the

American Sign Language-English interpreters were motivated to participate in the protest.

To analyze the interpreters’ participation in terms of their interpreting practice, I draw from two

key concepts in social movement studies: collective identity (Polletta and Jasper 2001) and

ideologically-structured action (Dalton 1994; Zald 2000). First, I explore how the collective identity

exhibited between DPN interpreters and deaf protesters emerged as the crucial factor explaining

the interpreters’ participation, and the ways in which they did so. In view of collective identity

referring to “an individual’s cognitive, moral, and emotional connection with a broader community,

category, practice, or institution” (Polletta and Jasper 2001:285), I explore and describe the notion

3 Although this study is the first to analyse DPN interpreters through the lens of social movement studies,

Christiansen and Barnartt (1995) used social movement theory to both recount the protest and attempt to explain its

organization and outcomes.




of affective ties and how the affective ties between the interpreters and the protesters drove their

participation, although the DPN interpreters were themselves not deaf.

The second key concept I draw from in social movement studies is ideologically-structured action

(Dalton 1994; Zald 2000), action that is inspired or guided by a particular ideological stance on the

part of the social movement actor. In the context of social movements, ideology has been defined

as “a system of ideas that couples assertions and theories about the nature of social life with values

and norms relevant to goals that promote or resist social change” (Oliver and Johnston 2005:192).

Ideologically-structured action therefore is social movement behavior that is influenced by actors’

ideologies. People are not only drawn to participate in movements based on their ideological

systems, but their very behavior is also influenced by these beliefs. In this paper, I explicate how

interpreters’ behavior in the protest can be understood as a form of ideologically-structured action

(Dalton 1994; Zald 2000), and why notions of ideologically-structured action (ibid) are useful to

draw on in contexts of translation and interpreting within conflict situations

To describe the perspectives of those who were on the ground in 1988, I chose to conduct semi-

structured oral history interviews with key DPN participants. Interviews are a frequently used

method of data collection in social movement studies (della Porta 2014). Oral history interviews

are especially useful for researchers studying movements about which there may be little available

archived material, as the researcher’s objective is to bring out a “thick” description from

interviewees about the period under study (Blee and Taylor 2002). The notion of a “thick”

description (Geertz, 1973) can be attributed to ethnographic research in which one attempts to

describe the lives of a particular group of people. Because the acts of interpreting and translation

are often overlooked in studies of social movements, I argue that a thick description of the lives

and work of interpreters – as told by the interpreters themselves – in a particular protest will aid in

uncovering truths about how interpreting in social movements ‘works.’ The interview data I

explore and analyse in this paper offers rich insight into a complex dynamic that perhaps could not

be explored via other means due to the fact that the protest took place over 30 years ago and that

little archival information about interpreting in the protest exists. As so little is recorded about the

work of interpreters in particular localised moments at the time of their occurrence and the archival




record pays scant attention to their role. From this perspective, the data gathered from interviewing

the interpreters participating in this particular historical moment at Gallaudet university make an

ideal case for analysis: as both archival and contemporary materials on localised contexts of

interpreting, and specifically sign language interpreting in the U.S.

2. Method

2.1 Participants

In this study, I conducted semi-structured oral history interviews with 21 individuals who

interpreted during DPN. To provide clear context to their positioning and involvement in the

protest, here I provide some information I collected from the participants.

Nineteen identified as white, one identified as Asian, and one identified as being of mixed race.

The mean age of interpreters' during DPN was 33, with a range of 20-48 years of age. The mean

age of interpreters' American Sign Language acquisition was 16, with an age range of 0-33. Nine

recalled receiving at least some form of financial compensation for their work during DPN,

although 14 of the 21 identified primarily as volunteer interpreters. Note that I also interviewed

interpreters who were paid, such as those who worked with the board of trustees during the protest.

These interpreters provided services for press conferences, board meetings, and other events.

However, in this paper I choose to focus on the roles and experiences of activist interpreters who

participated in DPN by volunteering their time.

Seven of the 21 participants were faculty or staff at Gallaudet, five were contract interpreters

working for the university during the time of the protest, two worked at an interpreting agency that

provided interpreting services for the board of trustees, and seven had no formal affiliation to the

university at the time. Nineteen were certified American Sign Language-English interpreters at the

time of the protest, 18 of whom held certifications granted by the Registry of Interpreters for the

Deaf, the national certifying body for signed language interpreters in the United States; one

participant held a state-level qualification, and two held no interpreting credentials. I also

interviewed five deaf protesters and one deaf member of Gallaudet’s administration, bringing the

total number of interviewees to 27. Although I cannot claim that the people I interviewed are a




representative sample of those who participated in and interpreted for DPN, their demographic

backgrounds and relationships to the protest must not be ignored. Who they are is a part of the

experiences they shared in the interviews, and their backgrounds are a piece of the puzzle that is

their participation in the protest. In some cases, the interviewees shared demographic pieces of

information about themselves during the interviews, suggesting that their individual biographic

makeups played a role in their participation. For example, interpreters frequently reiterated their

formal relationship to the protest and the protesters (e.g., Gallaudet faculty, contract interpreter,

alumni) and described how their participation was shaped by such relationships.

2.2 Procedure

To ensure the fidelity of the interview data collected, I followed precise procedures in the data

collection phase and throughout the study. Here I explain the procedures I followed while

conducting the research. This study was approved by the Gallaudet University Institutional Review

Board (IRB). Before being interviewed, each participant completed an informed consent form and

video release form.

To identify and recruit participants who interpreted in DPN, I consulted a list of nearly 100

interpreters’ names in the Gallaudet University Archives’ repository of DPN-related documents.

Using the online member database of the Registry of Interpreters for the Deaf, I contacted the

interpreters I could identify. In total, I contacted 69 people (including interpreters, deaf protesters,

and members of Gallaudet’s administration) to request their participation in interviews. Of the 69

individuals I contacted, 27 were interviewed, 14 declined to be interviewed4, and the rest (28) did

not respond after at least three attempts to be contacted. Of the 27 interviewees, two stated that

they would be more comfortable with in-person, rather than remote, interviews; to accommodate

their request, I traveled and met with them both for individual face-to-face interviews.

4 The individuals I contacted cited a number of reasons for declining an interview. These reasons included lack of

availability; an unwillingness to speak via videoconferencing; unwillingness to allow their comments to be recorded;

inability to clearly recall the events; and feeling that they did not participate in the protest in a meaningful way (e.g.,

they only stopped by one day for a few minutes).




For the people agreeing to be interviewed, I scheduled to meet with them individually for an

interview. Prior to each individual meeting, participants signed informed consent and video release

forms, which permitted me to record our interviews so that I could transcribe and analyze the data.

I used a semi-structured interview grid to guide data collection. Before designing the interview

questions, I had conducted a pilot interview with an individual who had provided interpreting

services in a more recent deaf-led protest on Gallaudet’s campus in 2006. Using the pilot interview

as a guide, I developed questions that encouraged participants to describe their experiences in the

protest, specifically focusing on the role(s) they identified as assuming. Twenty-four interviews

were then conducted remotely via video and saved with screen recording software (QuickTime or

SimpleScreenRecorder) to preserve the data for analysis. Two interviews were conducted face-to-

face and recorded using hi-definition video cameras.

2.3 Analysis

To transcribe the interviews, I used both strict transcription and description, transcription in which

the words produced by the participant are reconstructed as closely as possible in written language,

with the addition of relevant information, such as the participant’s nonverbal behavior

(Hammersley 2010). I used this method to recognise that the interpreter participants in this study

were all bimodal bilinguals5 and sometimes exhibited codeswitching or codeblending (Emmorey,

Borinstein, Thompson, and Gollan 2008), that is that they used both English and American Sign

Language. To ensure analysis captured the richness of the data, I also noted instances of

codeswitching when transcribing. For example, when an interview was conducted primarily in

spoken English, participants would occasionally use American Sign Language to reminisce on

particular moments in the protest (e.g., “I remember a march when the students signed…” and

recount an American Sign Language protest chant.)

To enrich and add to the insight gained from the interpreters, I also conducted interviews with six

deaf individuals:6 five protesters and one member of Gallaudet’s administration. These interviews

5 Bimodal bilingualism refers to the linguistic situation of having some degree of fluency with two languages that are

perceived and produced in different modalities (e.g., English and American Sign Language). 6 As a fluent American Sign Language user, I conducted interviews directly with deaf participants in American Sign

Language. Each interview was video-recorded in order for me to carry out post-interview analysis.




were conducted in American Sign Language; that is, I asked the participants questions in American

Sign Language, the same language in which they responded to my questions. As American Sign

Language is not a written language, an additional challenge is faced when attempting to transcribe

signed data: analyzing a written transcription of the data is in fact a translation of the original

signed data. As noted by Hochgesang (2012), researchers must therefore be selective in

determining what features to note when transcribing signed languages due to the fact that each

language is presented in a distinct modality (i.e., signed or written) and phonological features do

not match neatly across modalities (e.g., a particular facial expression used in American Sign

Language cannot be perfectly reflected in a written description of the expression). In terms of my

own transcriptions of American Sign Language data, I focused for the most part on semantic and

thematic content, as opposed to phonological formations of signs. To do this, I carefully viewed

each signed interview and produced a close translation, that is a written version of the video-

recorded interview data in written English. After completing the translation, that is video-written

transcription process, I hired a deaf, native American Sign Language user to verify my version of

these translations.7

The research method included an iterative analytical process; that is, I transcribed the data and

begun analyzing for preliminary themes while still conducting interviews (Bosi & Reiter, 2014).

After the data collection phase, I completed the transcription, coding, and analysis of the data. To

analyse the data, I used Braun and Clarke’s (2006) six-step approach to thematic analysis: 1)

Familiarizing yourself with the data, 2) Generating initial codes, 3) Searching for themes, 4)

Reviewing themes, 5) Defining and naming themes, and 6) Producing the report. Using the social

movement studies concepts of ideologically-structured action and collective identity as an

analytical framework for interpreting the data collected during my interviews, I sought to identify

patterns in the data that would help to explain interpreters’ participation in the protest. To my

knowledge, this project is the first that merges social movement studies with interpreting studies

and translation studies through thematic analysis to describe the roles of activist interpreters in

contentious political settings. In this way, I aimed to learn more about how ideologies personal to

7 Securing native language users to verify translations of signed interview data is a practice frequently used by

researchers who are second language learners (see Metzger 1999).




the interpreters drew them to participate and shaped their behavior throughout the protest.

Specifically, I considered the experiences interpreters shared and how the data they shared could

deepen retrospective understandings of their participation in the protest in 1988 as an ideologically-

charged act.

3. Results

3.1 Motivations for joining the protest

In this paper, I frequently quote stories and experiences shared by the interviewees. I selected these

particular quotations because they are illustrative of the trends in the data I identified in my

analysis. The quotations can thus be read as snapshots into the full data set, chosen as supporting

examples of the themes I explored. Further, for ease of reading, I have assigned pseudonyms to the

interviewees I quote in this paper.

Although each interpreter’s experience was unique to them, it was clear that there were numerous

points in common concerning how they first joined the protest. Most interviewees recounted their

own early experiences with the American deaf community as inspiring their sense of solidarity

with deaf communities. In this respect, the interpreter interviewees framed their decision to

participate in the protest in terms of their beliefs and relationships with the deaf community. One

interpreter who volunteered in the protest shared her experience:

There was this one particular family I worked with, and on a Saturday the dad just

showed up at my house with a cake and some tools because I had mentioned I just

bought a house of my own and my pipes were leaking, and I didn’t know anything

about that. So he just came over to fix it. The reason I mention that is that, for a lot of

us, especially those of us who were really a part of that whole deaf community, there

was never any question. I mean it wasn’t like, “Oh, let me help the deaf people,” in a

paternalistic way. This was your family and your friends. This was going on. If I needed

something, I had so many deaf friends that would just step up to the plate, so it wasn’t

even a conscious thought. So for DPN, it was like, “This is going on. This is what I can

offer.” So that’s the motivation for me to interpret in DPN.




Angela

Interpreters interviewed also referenced their gratitude to deaf people and an immaterial debt owed

to the deaf community in return for their kindness and generosity. Another interpreter who

volunteered in DPN summarized her reason for participating and her connection to the deaf

community in wider, rather than individual localized, frames of understanding:

I volunteered to interpret in DPN because of the community. I did not grow up in a

deaf family, but I did go to Gallaudet from 1981 to 1983. I lived in the dorms. I knew

a lot of the people who were involved, but there were also a lot of people I didn’t know.

They had given me what I was doing. They had given me language, they had given me

culture, they had opened doors that hadn’t been opened to me and wouldn’t have been

in other ways.

Nina

As demonstrated in the above two passages, these two interpreters suggested their decision to

interpret for the protest was rooted in a sense of obligation toward the deaf community at large.

The other interpreters, along with the two cited above, described their early experiences with deaf

people, long before DPN. With these comments, interpreters portrayed deaf people as a kind and

generous group who offered their language and culture to outsiders.

In comments like this, both interpreters cited above suggested that their volunteer work in DPN

was a way of giving back to the deaf community. Interpreters also described future volunteer

interpreting work after DPN. Although the interpreters described providing pro bono services

primarily for causes that they supported, they also suggested a commitment to providing their

services when interpreting might not otherwise be available to deaf people. One interpreter who

volunteered in DPN discussed providing pro bono interpreting services in other settings to make

his “corner of the world a little more fair” not for a cause, but because “if not for the fact that

someone were willing to come, some organizations wouldn’t be willing to pay for an interpreter.”

The interpreter explained that while these events often aligned with his personal beliefs and

worldview, his primary focus was on giving back to a deaf community that had been “very open”




with him by sharing their language. Volunteer interpreters echoed these sentiments when

discussing their motivations to interpret in DPN, suggesting they recognized a need in the deaf

community for interpreting services and their ability to fill that need.

This last point brings me back to why many people join social movements: the desire to change

circumstances may explain why people join social movements (Klandermans 2001). For although

the interpreters interviewed did not describe a strong desire to change circumstances (i.e., ensure

the selection of a deaf president), their own localized participation reflects their associations with

deaf people as community members and their desires for meaningful experiences. Describing deep

personal connections to the deaf community, the interpreters recounted relationships that had been

formed over years of friendships with deaf people. Despite not being deaf and not identifying as

full members of the deaf community, the interpreters’ motivations to interpret were primarily

driven by community ties and group belonging. In this respect, these motivations echo two other

overarching reasons people participate in social movements: a desire for group belonging, and a

desire for a meaningful life (ibid.). By enjoying meaningful life experiences, I am not referring

only to people in the deaf community, but also to the interpreters themselves. For example, one

DPN interpreter and former Gallaudet faculty member described her decision to return to Gallaudet

for DPN, within frameworks of suggesting that the protest was a significant event in her life:

I taught at Gallaudet for six years on and off. Most of that was in the English

department, and at the time I had a master’s degree, and I was totally immersed in the

deaf world in DC. I lived with deaf people, worked with deaf people, and my friends

were deaf people. At a certain point I left to go to get my PhD at [another university].

That was in 1986, so in 1988 I was two years into my PhD work, but as soon as DPN

started to gain momentum I knew I had to come back. And so I came back. I wasn’t

there during the first day, but on the second day I was on the ground. I wasn’t living in

DC at the time, so I had to hop on a plane and get there. But I came back for it… I came

back because I thought it was the most important thing that ever happened in my life

really. I mean it was really up there with getting married and getting my PhD. It’s one

of those things that I would have regretted for the rest of my life if I wouldn’t have




come. I was too involved with the deaf world [to not participate], and I just wanted to

be a part of the events. There was no choice in the matter.

Jane

By framing DPN as “the most important thing” in her life to that point, Jane emphasizes not only

her commitment to the cause, but her dedication to and relationship with the deaf community. Other

interpreters shared similar sentiments, describing DPN as a watershed moment in their personal

lives, comparing it to the birth of a first child. Here we read that an interpreter suggested that she

had “no choice” but to return to campus because of her relationships at Gallaudet and her longtime

involvement in the deaf community. Further, by explaining that she had to put her academic studies

on hold and fly across the country to return to Gallaudet, she frames her commitment to the

community in a strong way. Other interpreters explained their decision to similarly work in the

protest within an ideological framework of alignment with the deaf community. One volunteer

interpreter and Gallaudet graduate recalled his decision to travel thousands of miles to participate

in the protest and interpret. He recounted watching a news program on television about the protest

when he learned that the chair of Gallaudet’s board of trustees, Jane Bassett Spilman, had allegedly

told the student leaders of the protest that deaf people were not ready to function in a hearing

world:8

The news segment started off by explaining about Gallaudet University, and we’re

watching, thinking, “That’s interesting so far.” And then a quote appeared on the screen

in large lettering. It was a quote of something Spilman had said. It was just the words

on the screen, without showing a video clip of Spilman saying it, conveying that she

had recently said, “'Deaf people are not ready to function in the hearing world.” We

stared at the screen thinking, “What?!” I couldn't believe it. [The person I was with]

and I looked at each other in disbelief. “My God… She said that?!” It was beyond the

pale, but the students were able to really use that to their benefit as ammunition. So

8 There is considerable debate over whether or not Spilman made such a statement. The alleged comments were

made in a private meeting between Spilman, who was hearing and did not know American Sign Language, and the

deaf student leaders. Spilman claims that she used a double negative and that her comments were misconstrued by

the interpreter in the meeting. For further analysis of this event, see Christiansen and Barnartt (1995).




then I started thinking, “Maybe I should fly out there and join the protest and help out.”

Soon after that I booked tickets for the both of us.

Bernard

In this story, Bernard indicates alignment with deaf people and the wider deaf community. He

describes being aghast at learning the chair of Gallaudet’s board of trustees would refer to deaf

people in such an ignorant manner. He suggests that this attack on a community he cared for was

so egregious that it motivated him to join the protest. The decision to travel across the country

appears to have been motivated primarily by his opposition to an attack on the deaf community,

not the specific demands of the protesters. The interpreters I interviewed described shock and

horror at Spilman’s alleged comment, the board’s decision to select a hearing president, and

systematic discrimination against their deaf friends and family members. Although the interpreters

were not deaf themselves, their reactions to actions and decisions by both Spilman and the board

are clear indications of being aggrieved, one of the key motivations for joining social movements

(Klandermans, 2001).

Although, participants typically framed their decision to interpret for the protest in terms of their

personal beliefs about the deaf community, one Gallaudet employee and volunteer interpreter

described a personal motivation for her participation. She told the story of how she learned about

the protest and then visited the campus:

I was a full-time employee of the university but not as an interpreter. I was working in

the career center, and I remember that first day, that Monday morning, waking up, I

had a radio alarm clock, and the alarm would go on, and it said, “Gallaudet University

is closed today due to a student protest on the selection of the president.” So my sleepy

ears heard, “Gallaudet is closed today,” and I kind of rolled over and thought, “Oh, like

a snow day, great!” Then I was like, “Wait, what?!” [laugh] Then I sat up in bed, and I

thought, “This is kind of exciting!” And for about three seconds I thought, “I could just

go back to sleep and not go to work today.” Then I thought, “I am a FOMO kind of

person, you know, Fear of Missing Out.” And I thought, “I don’t wanna miss the




excitement here.” So I got up, got showered, got dressed, and went to work knowing

that the university was closed.

Brenda

Brenda’s story stands out from other perspectives interpreters shared of joining the protest. The

volunteer interpreters I interviewed typically framed their participation in terms of a commitment

to the deaf community; however, this interpreter suggests her primary reason for going to the

protest was to satisfy her curiosity and sense of excitement. She is the only interpreter who

suggested a personal rather than collective motivation to join the protest. However, as the week

progressed, she described aligning more closely with the protesters and considering the

implications of the protest for her friends and colleagues in the deaf community. Although this

interpreter’s reasons for joining the protest do not perfectly mirror the motivations shared by other

protesters and interpreters, her decision to participate can still be explained by social movement

theory. In this respect, her response resonates with the phenomenon of individuals sometimes

joining movements out of a desire for meaningful life experiences (Klandermans 2001). Most DPN

interpreters interviewed thus appeared to be actively seeking out the collective meaningful life

experience of challenging power structures with their deaf friends, family members, and colleagues

in the protest. This particular interpreter also expressed her hope for meaningful life experiences

in the protest, albeit in a slightly different way: her choice to participate was driven by a personal

desire for exciting and meaningful experiences, rather than a collective desire as a part of a

community.

It is noteworthy that in almost all instances, the interpreters I interviewed described to join the

protest due to their own association with members of the deaf community and others in the protest.

Rather than being driven by a sense of social alienation and isolation (Kornhauser 1959), these

interviews suggest that DPN interpreters were drawn to participate through their involvement in a

social network (Jenkins 1981), namely the American deaf community.




3.2 Dynamics of power during the protest – ‘slash roles’ of interpreters

Interpreters’ associations with the deaf community explain not only the decision to participate in

DPN, but also their behaviors during the protest. Specifically, interpreters’ views on role were

informed by both their personal and professional ideologies about interpreting and the deaf

community.

During the interviews, the interpreters typically identified themselves in relation to the protest; that

is, they described falling on a continuum from activist/protester and occasional interpreter to that

of an objective interpreter. Interpreters who volunteered for rallies, media interviews, and other

protest events often discussed wearing multiple ‘hats’ and described some level of support for the

protest, emphasizing their personal relationships with protesters above their professional

obligations as interpreters. Participants often reported seeing themselves as being on the edge of

activism. One DPN interpreter described juggling his personal feelings about the movement with

his professional obligations while interpreting media interviews:

So when I’m interpreting for [one of the student leaders of the protest] for example I’m

gonna realize that I need to kind of disappear and just kinda convey the message. But

the moment that interview ends, and he turns the camera, boom! I’m back to, well, I

become kinda like the advocate, you know, protest participant the moment [the student

leader] turns his head and goes off to do something else.

Bernard

In this excerpt, Bernard suggests that when not interpreting, he assumed the role of a protester. As

another interpreter who participated in DPN primarily as a protester opined, “I was there as a

person. We were just there to march and to be there. Then somebody hearing would come in, and

they would say, ‘Tell him what I’m saying,’ and I would go, ‘Oh, okay.’” Echoing this sentiment,

Bernard later summarized his view of his ‘slash role’ in which he was first and foremost a DPN

participant, with his identity as an interpreter as “the last part of all the slashes.” Another staff

interpreter at an interpreting agency who did paid and volunteer work during DPN recalled his

experience participating in a march:




The march to the hotel for [President] Zinser’s resignation was amazing. That’s where

I kinda went, “Okay, I’m not an interpreter now, I’m a real person, and I’m with this

protest.” And off we marched. That was the one where they didn’t have a permit, and

the police were like, “Okay, we can’t tell these people anything. Let’s go,” and so they

escorted us down. That was exciting, standing outside waiting for the announcement,

and when it came just the roar and excitement of that moment. It still gives me

goosebumps 30 years later.

Jeremy

Here, Jeremy describes a shift in his role while marching compared to other points in the protest.

This story is illustrative of many cases in which interpreters interviewed recalled navigating

boundaries as professionals and wading into the waters of activism when not actively interpreting.

In his comments, the interpreter describes protesters being unable to communicate with police

officers, who subsequently allowed the march to take place without a permit. As an interpreter,

Jeremy had the ability to step in and assist with communication between the police and the

protesters. However, his decision to march – rather than interpret – further underscores his

alignment with protesters and the protest. This interpreter’s view of himself as a quasi-protester

was a frequent – although not universal – perspective shared by interpreters. For example, another

volunteer interpreter described his apprehension to act or be seen as a protester, arguing that he did

not lend his “voice” to the cause:

With an event like a protest, your physical presence is often interpreted as if you’re

part of the protesters. You know, if we take an aerial view of the crowd, you’re in there

somewhere. But I think in that event, to be a protester to me means you really had to

have your own voice. You had to express your ideas, your opinions, your experience,

your perspective. I couldn’t and didn’t do that. So I think that’s a real significant

difference that the deaf students, the leaders, the alumni, they all had ownership in a

way that no interpreter had because it’s in large part about the lived experience of that

group of people. I certainly can’t lay claim to that lived experience and certainly can’t

lay claim to representing that lived experience. So, I would say that even though




philosophically and attitudinally, I was a thousand percent behind the protesters, I

definitely don’t think of myself as a protester.

Noam

Here, Noam demarcates the difference between his personal support for the protest and his

conceptualization of the role of interpreters. He perceives his role as a hearing person as precluding

him from fully understanding the lived experience of deaf people, thus rendering him incapable of

being an active protester. However, he recognizes the perception by outsiders that interpreters, by

their very presence at the event, were also protesters. Another volunteer interpreter described a

similar perspective; however, she accepted the identity of being both an interpreter and a protester,

citing the additional actions of some interpreters when not protesting. Through marching,

displaying DPN signs on their personal vehicles, and other contributions, this interpreter described

“a sense of being part of the movement.” Some volunteer interpreters, on the other hand, saw their

role more clearly defined as interpreters and outsiders.

For example, one volunteer interpreter suggested he would never have overtly participated in the

protest by marching or holding a sign. Another volunteer interpreter suggested she did not engage

in ancillary participation in the protest for two reasons. First, she referenced exhaustion and time

constraints from interpreting so much during the week. Further, she suggested:

I felt like actively protesting might be too much of the interpreter face in the crowd. I

didn’t want that. I didn’t want people to come up to me and say, “Oh, you did a good

job interpreting.” I didn’t want to make it about the interpreters, so I was very careful.

I wanted to be in the background. I wanted to be behind the scenes and just be there to

serve.

Shirley

This comment represents how interpreters articulated respect for the protest being led by deaf

people. No interpreter indicated an interest in adopting a leadership role in the protest. Instead, they

suggested they did not want to be seen as taking control of a movement they argued did not belong

to them. This perspective was even stronger when interpreters discussed their role as the protest




unfolded. While DPN was about self-determination for deaf people, a Gallaudet contract interpreter

who volunteered in the protest suggested that DPN also helped him to better understand his role as

a hearing person in the deaf community:

The most important lesson for me in DPN was to start thinking about who gets to be

called deaf and how the deaf community handles that question. I don’t think that’s

something I need to decide, but I do need to take a look and see how the community as

a whole is grappling with that.

Harvey

Taken together, such comments represent a conscious effort on the part of these interpreters to

ensure they did not inadvertently usurp the power of the protest from deaf people. However, the

interpreters never framed this understanding of their role or position within professional standards

or beliefs. When considering their role in DPN and the appropriate ways to act, interpreters

referenced their relationships within the deaf community, not professional codes of ethics or norms.

Regardless of how they identified during the protest, the participants expressed experiencing little

or no internal conflict over their role as interpreters working in and around the protest. In particular,

the interpreters who volunteered their time for various protest events indicated that their

understanding of their role was informed by expectations from protesters and the wider deaf

community. As one person who volunteered to interpret during the protest stated:

I didn’t feel any ethical conflicts over my role. We just went with it. We were in the

community. And we were really taking our cues about what interpreters were from the

community. And it may have conflicted with what I learned in class. But they were

happy with the work we were doing, and that’s all that mattered.

Jeremy

With this comment, Jeremy describes his understanding of his role as being based in deaf

community expectations. Further, he notes that while his role in the protest may have conflicted

with standard interpreting practice that he learned in school, his primary concern was meeting the




needs of the deaf community. Other interpreters echoed Jeremy’s sentiments, describing no internal

turmoil or ethical conflicts in their role as interpreters and quasi-protest participants. They

suggested deaf community expectations about the role of interpreters – not ethical principles taught

in a classroom – were the guideposts that influenced how they assumed their role.

Interpreters who volunteered for the protest shared stories of their interpreting work in which they

described behaving outside the traditionally prescribed role of an interpreter. Such stories centered

around interpreters unconsciously suggesting their ideological alignment with the protest and the

protesters. For example, a Gallaudet contract interpreter who volunteered to work in the protest

recalled interpreting a contentious encounter between student protesters and the police:

There was an encounter with students and the police, and it was at the end of a long

day. I think it was probably night-time, probably 9:00 or something. It was dark. I don’t

remember what the issue was, but the police officers outside the gate were upset for

some reason with something that some students were doing. I think there was a lot of

kind of fear from the police because they couldn’t figure out what was going on and

didn’t know how to control it. I mean they’d drive up and they’d open their trunks and

they’d grab the bullhorn and try to use it, and they’d realize that wasn’t gonna work.

[laugh] And so they were just like, “Oh, my God.” They had this elevated kind of fear

factor, and that came up in some of their interactions, but there were two or three police

officers I think, and a student came to me and said, “I’m having some difficulty with

these police officers.” And so, “Sure, I’ll interpret for you.” So I went and I stood next

to the police officer and they started talking to me, like really yelling at me about what

they were concerned about. And, and I was like, “I’m… I will interpret the information,

you convey the information to this deaf person, and I will voice…” and you know. And

they would interrupt my explanation, and then they’d start yelling at me again. And I

would try again. I think I tried three or four times. It’s like, “It’s not working when you

yell at me in my ear,” and it was almost like, “Oh, my gosh. I’m gonna get arrested for

not being cooperative!” What I said was terrible. I finally said, “Tell him yourself,”

and I walked away. [laugh] It was bad. But it was so ridiculous by then. Whatever they




were upset about, there was nothing that was gonna happen as a result of that. The

student had already tried to say, “We’re not going to do anything, everything’s going

to be peaceful,” or whatever, and the student was doing an excellent job of trying to

calm down the situation. But the policeman was just really physically being a bully to

me. And so I finally just said “Tell him yourself,” and I walked away knowing that he

couldn’t tell him himself and that the whole thing was shut down. So the two other

policemen that were with the guy who was yelling at me came running after me, and

I’m thinking, “Oh, they’re gonna arrest me!” [laugh] But they said, “We’re so sorry.

We’re so sorry for our supervisor, and we just don’t know why he acts like that.” So it

was the police supervisor. But I’m like, “Well, you know, I guess he’ll have to write

notes now.” So I walked away and no harm done, but it’s a situation I recall because I

felt like I’m really on the line here in terms of getting myself in a little more trouble

than I wanted to get in.

Ella

In this story, Ella has framed her experience as falling outside the norms of a typical interpreting

assignment, casting aside traditional professional standards about the role of an interpreter. A

professional interpreter would not generally abandon a consumer – much less a police officer – in

the middle of an interaction. However, the interpreter suggests growing frustration with the officer

and made the decision to discontinue communication. It is interesting to note the positive outcome

of her decision, considering the pitfalls that could have befallen the interpreter. In this and similar

comments, interpreters described mediating contentious interactions in which they become the

subject of contention. To mediate the contention, the interpreters described considering the

contextual factors and their alignment with the deaf protesters that influenced their decision-

making processes.

The deaf protesters I interviewed shared varying perspectives on the role they thought interpreters

should assume during the protest. One protester commented on interpreters’ role as allies in the

protest: “The protest week was very organic. I didn’t look at them as interpreters but as allies… we

all had our role to play in the protest. I saw interpreters as being on our team and on the same side.”




The protester described how interpreters made sacrifices to be available to interpret in a wide

variety of settings “at a moment’s notice.” Other deaf protesters suggested that interpreters were

full participants in the protest, describing interpreters as fellow activists and protesters. A deaf

protester shared the following perspective:

There were a lot of illegal actions during DPN. But sometimes civil rights actions take

precedence. Like when we marched without a permit… We also had students who

illegally deflated the bus tires. They took over the campus and closed the entrances.

That wasn’t safe! Now, in some situations the press would talk with a student, and the

student may not have been the best communicator. I have a gut feeling that interpreters

might have played a role in bluffing a little bit. They were kind of embellishing the

language, playing it up.9 Now keep in mind that during the 1988 protest interpreters

were volunteers. So not necessarily everyone who was there was a professional

interpreter. But my suspicion is the protest was very flexible, and some interpreters

were like, “Fuck it!”

Malcolm

Malcolm describes seeing interpreters behave as fellow activists, suggesting they may have taken

drastic actions similar to deaf protesters. Specifically, he suggests that interpreters may have skirted

ethical standards that require them to interpret faithfully and instead embellished protesters’

language in media interviews and appearances. By drawing parallels between interpreters’ actions

and protesters’ actions (e.g., marching without a permit, deflating bus tires), he frames interpreters

as not only supporters of the protest, but as activists and protesters.

In contrast to this perspective, a deaf student leader from the protest noted that while interpreters

were “friends in the community,” they were also expected to act within their prescribed roles:

9 Although an analysis of the source and target language output is outside the scope of this paper, it has been

suggested by Christiansen and Barnartt (1995) that the interpreters were “embellishing” the language used by

protesters in interviews, thereby strengthening the deaf protesters’cause (Christiansen and Barnartt 1995:184).




In the simplest view, an interpreter acts as a facilitator, a translator, a transmitter, a

conduit, to facilitate the message to a signed message, and to a spoken message. My

view of interpreters was always the same growing up. I see how some deaf people look

at interpreters as “assistants” or “helpers,” but I don’t like that role. I’m in charge, not

the interpreter… Now, back in 1988, on their “off duty time” interpreters were typically

friends in the community… DPN interpreters did a great job. Most of the reporters

would do interviews, and the interpreters wouldn’t speak for themselves – they would

defer to deaf people. Not like how when hearing people address all their questions to

interpreters, who then answer everything. Instead, they brought in a deaf person to

answer, so that was good… Interpreters served as ears to the outside world for us. I

mean, interpreters knew where reporters were and who they were, so they would tell

us things like when they arrived, like when ABC [News] or someone got there, they

would pass on the word and inform us. Also the police would tell us about things like

road closures, and interpreters kept us informed, so they were our ears to what was

happening out there, which helped so we didn’t have to do a lot of checking into things,

they would let us know as our ears.

Albert

This perspective underscores Albert’s multifaceted relationships with interpreters, as well as his

understanding of their role. Note the apparent contradiction in his views about interpreters:

although he initially emphasizes the linguistic mediation aspect of interpreting, he also describes

the personal relationships between the protesters and interpreters. With his suggestion that

interpreters acted as the protesters’ “ears to the outside world” who took actions beyond

interpreting – such as providing protesters with information about the journalists reporting on the

protest – he situates interpreting as an activity that goes beyond linguistic facilitation and cultural

mediation. By framing interpreters as “friends in the deaf community” on their “off duty time,”

Albert portrays the complex professional and personal roles that interpreters have in the deaf

community. These perspectives from consumers of interpreting services demonstrate the critical

importance of addressing “slash roles” and professional boundaries established by interpreters and

those with whom they work. Scholarly discussion is warranted on the roles and boundaries




interpreters assume in times of protest as well as in conflict settings, and how they can differ

according to localised contexts, particularly in the realm of activism in signed language

communities.

The interview data I have shared and analysed here are a first step towards this discussion and work

to reveal how DPN stakeholders – interpreters and protesters – navigated the role of interpreters

between hearing and non-hearing agents in the protest. Emerging in this study is the dynamic nature

by which the interpreters managed complex boundaries and expectations, which were based on

expectations of the deaf community as well as their own expectations of themselves as allies. The

interpreters drew from their personal and professional beliefs about interpreting and the deaf

community when making decisions about how to assume their role.

4. Conclusion

In this paper, I have explored the role of 21 American Sign Language-English interpreters who

offered their services in what is widely regarded as the most critical moment in the civil rights

history of deaf people in the United States of America. Although social scientists caution against

making broad conclusions about the consequences of protests and movements, Barnartt and Scotch

(2001) report that protests about deaf-related issues increased fivefold after DPN. The

reverberations from DPN were felt around the world. For example, Druchen (2014) suggests that

DPN acted as a catalyst for a great deal of activism from deaf South Africans, including protests

demanding changes in deaf education. Specifically, 42 deaf schools participated in a protest in

1988, calling for the use of South African Sign Language, rather than only spoken language, for

instruction (ibid).

Language – like ideologies and power dynamics – is not always audible, and in many cases is not

heard. In the Deaf President Now protest, interpreters played an integral role in making deaf

protesters’ cries for justice be literally seen as well as heard by the hearing majority. In a similar

vein, the perspectives of interpreters are often in such contexts frequently ignored and unheard.

Through this retrospective case study, I have attempted to hear and amplify the voices of the




interpreters who lived through an important historic moment in the deaf community and

interpreting activism by listening to their stories in their own words and sharing them here.

While I have shown that individual interpreters’ decisions and actions as told in their own voice

can be analysed from theories in social movement studies, I have also shown that individual

interpreters describing their sense of belonging to this protest offers a unique window into the local

dynamics of power at play within an educational institution whose students identify with many

roles. Specifically, the constructs of collective identity and ideologically-structured action in

relation to their sense of agency, choice, and affiliation as interpreters with the deaf community

explain how and why interpreters participated in this particular protest.

In this respect, this study reiterates the findings described by Cokely (2005) when describing the

bond between interpreters and the deaf community in the early development of the signed language

interpreting profession in the United States. Chronicling how interpreters shared strong

connections with deaf people and rarely expected compensation for interpreting, in environments

of increased professionalization, the field of deaf community interpreting underwent a “change

from [a relationship] based on communal obligation to one based on economic opportunity; from

one based on personal relations to one based on business relations” (Cokely 2005:16). Given the

strong ties between the interpreters and the wider deaf community, it is not surprising that many of

the interpreters I interviewed felt aggrieved and motivated to take action (Klandermans, 2001). The

interpreters who participated in DPN primarily did so with no promise of compensation or formal

professional responsibility. Instead, they participated in the protest out of the their “communal

obligation” to and with the deaf community (Cokely 2005:16). Although the interpreters

interviewed frequently referred to the contemporary business model of community interpreting,

their collective identity and personal connections with protesters and members of the wider deaf

community was a key motivator for their participation in 1988.

I note here that the interpreters interviewed for this study were all hearing.10 Hearing interpreters,

by definition, are not deaf and do not have the same worldview and experiences as members of the

10 Deaf people in the United States may seek professional interpreter certification through the Registry of Interpreters

for the Deaf.




deaf community (Lane et al. 1996). However, as deaf studies scholar Paddy Ladd explains, hearing

individuals with strong ties to deaf people (e.g., children with deaf parents, parents of deaf children,

individuals who work with deaf people) may have “partial membership” in the deaf community

(2003:42). In the context of the American deaf community, individuals with partial membership

are hearing but use American Sign Language and work closely with deaf people. This notion of

membership was supported by comments made in interviews with deaf protesters and members of

the deaf community who recognized DPN interpreters as community allies. From this perspective,

I argue that the sense of solidarity between and across community identities thus explains much of

the work interpreters did during the week.

While neither deaf nor full members of the deaf community, the volunteer DPN interpreters in this

study exhibited collective identity with protesters. As Polletta and Jasper write, collective identity

includes the “affective connections one has to members of a group that oblige one to protest along

with or on behalf of them” (2001:290). Through years of developing relationships with deaf people,

interpreters’ collective identity with the deaf community – including deaf DPN protesters – appears

to have been a significant factor in their activism. The personal ties of interpreters to deaf people

support the view that collective identity leads to “the pleasures and obligations that actually

persuade people to mobilize” (Polletta and Jasper 2001:284).

The perspectives from volunteer DPN interpreters reveal their work as being ideologically-charged

actions performed by engaged individuals, rather than a mechanical process of linguistic transfer

by detached and disinterested professionals. Specifically, their stories illustrate how the DPN

interpreters were influenced by underlying beliefs about their connections to the deaf community

and professional tenets of interpreting practice. The beliefs and ideologies emerged as more

transparent when they talked about interpreting politically-oriented assignments other than DPN.

Some interpreters underscored how their own views about society and social issues, for example,

affected their decision about when – and when not – to interpret certain politically-based

assignments. Many of the interpreters interviewed stated that they would not accept interpreting

assignments centered around issues that they opposed. By refusing to accept such assignments, the

interpreters’ social ideologies competed with their strong sense of commitment to providing




language access for members of the deaf community. It may be that the interpreters recognized that

their personal ideologies made them unqualified for certain political assignments because they may

have struggled with interpreting in a professional or detached manner.

Ideology and awareness of power inequalities however was not only a factor in DPN interpreters’

decisions about providing services; ideology also impacted on how those services were provided.

Throughout their interviews, the DPN interpreters discussed their position of being hearing people

within a protest led by the deaf community. Interpreters repeatedly emphasized, for example, that

they only provided language services, and had assumed no leadership role in the protest. They also

adamantly stated that they only served as supporters and allies of deaf people and did so at their

request. Such statements, however localised in context, thus provide insights into the interpreters’

decisions which foregrounded the importance of deaf leadership and decision-making in the

protest. These statements are connected to the interpreters also citing the right of deaf people to

autonomy and self-determination. Throughout the interviews conducted, all interpreters described

great caution in not usurping the power and autonomy of the protesters – citing, for example,

perspectives of outsiders to the protest. A pervasive theme in the data was that the right of deaf

people to self-determination was paramount in the work of interpreters, an aspiration that was borne

out in the interpreters’ decisions and actions. In this way, the interpreters’ ideologies about deaf

autonomy shaped how they conducted themselves during the protest.

To borrow a term from Baker, the data in this study suggest that interpreters do not merely mediate

encounters in the linguistic sense; they also participate in “producing” them (2013:24). In various

ways, the data speak to the roles that interpreters assumed in this contentious political setting and

so highlight their ideologies. While they expressed their reticence to adopt leadership roles in this

particular protest, interpreters in this historical protest also never claimed to be detached language

mediators who enable communication between two contesting parties. By the nature of their work,

DPN interpreters did not seek to avoid being enmeshed in the dynamics of situations for which

they interpret. Rather, as demonstrated through the interview data cited in this paper, they actively

worked to become part of the dynamics at play. Although this paper addresses the role of a

particular group of interpreters from one historical event (i.e., American Sign Language-English




interpreters in the context of DPN), the findings have wider implications for and invite further

research on the study of interpreting, power, and ideology. In the 21st century, deaf people and

other linguistic minority groups continue to take up space in a variety of contentious settings. The

dynamic roles of interpreters in these settings must be taken up and analysed with a critical eye to

understand their ideological underpinnings.

Acknowledgments

This article is based upon my PhD research I conducted at Gallaudet University. I wish to thank

my dissertation committee chair, Dr. Brenda Nicodemus, and my committee members, Dr. Mona

Baker, Dr. Sharon Barnartt, Dr. Keith Cagle, and Dr. Emily Shaw, for their guidance along the

way. I also thank the Gallaudet University Office of Research Support and International Affairs

(RSIA) for their generous financial support of this project.

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Sijing Lu, Understanding the Social Dynamics of Amateur Subtitling: A Bourdieusian Perspective on

Fansubbing in China, 86-129 86

Understanding the Social Dynamics of Amateur Subtitling:

A Bourdieusian Perspective on Fansubbing in China

Sijing Lu

University of Liverpool, UNITED KINGDOM

[email protected]

ABSTRACT

This article uncovers the external and internal power relations of fansubbing in China and

discusses the role of fansubbers as social agents that constitute hierarchies in the online

environment. Adopting the concepts of field and capital from Pierre Bourdieu’s sociology,

the study investigates to what extent fansubbers are reproducing the accepted

governmental ideologies through their supposedly autonomous activities, followed by an

account of how fansubbers are maintaining or challenging the status quo through the

pursuit of, and competition within, various forms of capital. The findings show that even

though fansubbers have freedom through conducting self-selection and self-distribution,

their compliance to dominant governmental policies, and their market-oriented material

selection indicate fansubbing’s heteronomous principle of hierarchisation that exists

within the field of power. Additionally, fansubbing communities are centred on distinct

capital accumulation and conversion among agents, and it is such diverse position-takings

that enable a dynamic mechanism of fansubbing communities.

Keywords: Capital; fansubbing; field; Pierre Bourdieu; power relations

1. Introduction

The advent of new technologies has had a profound impact on translation practices, and

further given rise to a wide range of scholastic focuses on many new translation phenomena,

such as, to name a few, crowdsourcing translation (Losse 2008), user-generated translation

(Perrino 2009; O’Hagan 2009), community translation (DePalma and Kelly 2008), and online

activist translation (Tymoczko 2000; Baker 2009; Perez-Gonzalez 2010). The open,

participatory and interactive nature of the Internet has made it possible for like-minded people

to gather together for common goals (Ferber et al. 2005), and those online collaborative

activities have made amateur translation practice a more visible activity than ever before.




Although the non-remuneration feature of amateur translation is perceived as a substantial

threat to the structure of the labour market, as well as to the livelihood of translation

professionals (Yang 2009; McDonough-Dolmaya 2011), the positive social implications that

amateur translation brings have been extensively illustrated, including the higher degree of

domain-knowledge (O’Hagan 2009), the facilitation of civic engagement (Baker 2009;

Perez-Gonzalez 2010; Li 2015), and the creative innovation of translation techniques (Tessa

2012; McClarty 2013; Cecilia van Tonder 2015).

One of the practices that has arisen at the forefront of amateur translation is the emergence

and ongoing development of fansubbing. Fansubbing, or subtitling carried out by fans for fans,

is a social phenomenon facilitated by technological developments and existed long before the

digital era, having emerged in the early 1980s triggered by the promotion of Japanese anime

(Munday 2008). Fansubbing was originally born to provide fans across nations with the latest

and most authentic experience of Japanese anime1. However, over the past three decades,

globalisation has extended the remit of fansubbing from Japanese anime to various

audiovisual genres, such as Hollywood films, North American TV shows, university open

courses, and Korean reality shows (Dwyer 2012). A fansubbing community is an online

subtitle production community with stable core members, shared interests and purposes for

the translation of audiovisual materials, and conventional rules and regulations which are

sustained by a set of technology and translation software applications (Vellar 2011; Tian 2011;

Bayar 2012). Specific organisational rules and regulations of fansubbing communities will be

discussed later in the article.

An increasing number of fansubbing communities has been established in recent years and

has received scholarly attention. Early in 1999, Nornes regarded fansubbing as a form of

1 The major motivation for the emergence of fansubs is the promotion of Japanese anime in the United States.

With the release of video cassette recorders in 1975, Japanese anime began to spread across the United States

and TV stations began broadcasting different genres such as super robot shows, cartoon and fantasy. Between the

late 1970s and the early 1980s, fan clubs of Japanese anime began to be founded and expanded to become of

national scale in the United States. Japanese anime fans helped publicise and subtitle the videos and distributed

them to the regions in which TV broadcasting were not available. The first anime club in the United States was

established by Fred Patten and called the Cartoon/Fantasy Organization.




“abusive subtitling” to underline the boundaries between mainstream subtitling and

fansubbing (1999:17-34). Fansubbing is regarded as working outside of the mainstream

industry with abusive subtitle features such as using different coloured subtitles to correspond

to material aspects of language, including footnotes or small-type definitions which are

illegible on the fly, and freely inserting fansubbers’ own comments all over the screen (ibid.).

Nonetheless, fansubbing communities have proliferated in the past few years. Li (2012:77)

argued that the reason for the proliferation of fansubbing communities is mainly due to the

fact that fansubbers’ “aesthetic manipulation” of subtitles is mostly favoured by audiences.

Aesthetic manipulation includes fansubbers’ increasing and creative use of various

typographical features, such as colourful and karaoke-style subtitles, which are dramatically

different from the use of static white or black subtitles in mainstream practice. Furthermore,

the fan nature makes fansubbers usually more familiar with the needs of the target audiences;

therefore, they reject professional subtitles which have long been known for their unified

appearance or dilution of cultural references. As a result, audiovisual translation represents

one of the areas in which professional norms and practices have been challenged most by the

freedom and empowerment of users of the Internet and open-source software

(Jiménez-Crespo 2017:179). Academic studies in recent years have focused on subtitling

norms in fansubbing and comparing them with mainstream practices from both descriptive

perspectives (Diaz-Cintas and Munoz Sanchez 2006; Perez-Gonzalez 2007; Bogucki 2009,

Tian 2011; Zhang and Wang 2015) and empirical perspectives (Lee 2011; Caffrey 2009;

Massidda 2012). Along with the growing interest in studying fansubbing norms, scholarly

enquiry has also extended from pure text-oriented research to contextual studies, including

studies of the agents involved in the fansubbing process (Diaz-Cintas 2006; Perez-Gonzalez

2007) and the communities and networks that fansubbers build (Li 2015; Liu and Seta 2015;

Rong 2015).

Jenkins (1992) noted that fansubbing involves two types of activities: fans producing texts,

and fans creating communities. Previous studies of fansubbing in China mainly focus on the

former activity, i.e. subtitling strategies developed by Chinese fansubbers when producing




subtitled audiovisual texts (Li 2012; Zhang 2013; He 2014; Chang 2014). These studies show

that Chinese fansubbing has greatly influenced professional subtitling with their

“groundbreaking innovations” such as commentary notes and pop-up glosses (Diaz-Cintas

2009:11). For example, professional subtitlers began to adopt fansub-style comments and

notes in subtitles to provide extra contextual and background information and use vivid

language to create a kind of intimacy with audiences (Wang 2014). Scholars also illustrate

that the creative subtitling strategies used in Chinese fansubbing help to maintain the register

of the original as well as the colloquialism and authenticity of the source dialogue (Ding 2013;

Wang 2017). However, with the rise of the participatory culture2, fansubbing communities in

China have mushroomed and the social position of fansubbers has been foregrounded in both

online spaces and the offline subtitling industry. This has inspired a shift of research interest

from the textual aspect to the extra-textual one, i.e. fan-created communities. Recent scholarly

attention has also called for a focus on the “social substratum and participatory dimension that

underpin non-professional subtitling agencies” (Perez-Gonzalez 2017:17). In a country with

strict ideological sanctions against the media, the practice of fansubbers creating communities

in China is creating “new neoliberal scripts” in which fansubbers transgress national

limitations and become involved in altruistic production in articulation with the ambiguous

non-legal/legal online cultural economy (Hu 2013:228). Moreover, fans are traditionally

understood as passive information consumers, but nowadays fans of cultural products are

taking technologies into their own hands to create or translate texts to express their own

media experiences or challenge dominant discourses. This article considers fansubbers as

active social agents whose ideologies3 are influenced by the government and the power field,

2 Media scholar Henry Jenkins developed the concept of “participatory culture” in his book Convergence

Culture: Where Old and New Media Collide (2016). He argued that participatory culture emerged with the rise

of Web 2.0 and that it is opposite to “consumer culture” in which people are merely consumers. In participatory

culture, people can take part in the generation and creation of news, ideas and works on the Internet. More

implications of participatory culture for civic engagement and creative expressions can be found at:

http://henryjenkins.org/blog/2006/10/confronting_the_challenges_of.html 3 The term “ideology” used in this article adopts Bourdieu’s argument (Bourdieu and Boltanski 1976). Bourdieu

notes that ideology is simultaneously “doubly determined” by the dominating class and the subjugated masses.

For instance, in the case of hegemonic discourse, the primary function of ideology is “to express and produce the

logical and moral integration of the dominant class”; in the case of counterhegemonic discourse, ideology is to

“convey and guarantee the social and normative integration of dominated groups” (Susen 2014:92).

http://henryjenkins.org/blog/2006/10/confronting_the_challenges_of.html




and who constitute hierarchies in the online environment informed by a persistent search for

the accumulation of resources. Aiming to uncover both the external and internal power

relations of fansubbing practice, the article methodologically builds on a six-month project

collating netnographic data about three Chinese fansubbing communities (Orange, Fixsub and

ShinY) and employs Bourdieu’s interrelated concepts of field and capital. The article initially

attempts to map out the current position of Chinese fansubbing practice within multiple social

fields. It then investigates to what extent fansubbers are reproducing accepted governmental

ideologies in terms of power through their supposedly autonomous activities, followed by an

account of how fansubbers are maintaining or challenging the status quo as agents through the

pursuit of, and competition within, various forms of capital. Before proceeding to the research

data, the article begins with an overview of Pierre Bourdieu’s theoretical approach and its

relevance in studying fansubbing, specifically focusing on the analytical concepts of field and

capital.

2. Applying Bourdieu’s sociological approach to fansubbing

Pierre Bourdieu’s sociology evolved from his criticism of the two traditional opposing

understandings of the formation of the social world. Bourdieu situated himself in the French

intellectual world of the 1950s and early 1960s, when he attempted to solve the dichotomy

between subjectivism and objectivism. According to Bourdieu (1987), the main problem of

the two sides lies in the separation of the individual human agent from the external world.

Subjectivism ignores the objectivity of the subjective and believes that a human’s behaviour

arises merely from subjectivity. By contrast, objectivism shows that human’s behaviour is

directly subjected to external conditions (Swartz 2002:61-63). As Johnson (1993) illustrates,

Bourdieu introduces a theoretical model that combines the concept of the agent that is free

from the idealism of subjectivist accounts, and the concept of social space that is free from the

mechanistic causality inherent in many objectivist approaches.

The social space Bourdieu refers to is what he calls a field (Bourdieu 1990). Bourdieu

developed the concept of field in response to other concepts that attempt to explain social




reality, namely the duality between subjectivism and objectivism. A field is a historically

constituted social space with its own fundamental laws, norms and rules. Each field has its

own taken for granted logic and structure. Moreover, a field is “a network, or a configuration,

of objective relations between positions” (Bourdieu and Wacquant 1992:97). Therefore, the

field provides an analytical tool to focus on fansubbers, who produce effects through their

supposedly autonomous activities within the given field; describes the struggles or the

boundary of the field and defines the distribution of capital at stake influenced by the

government and the power field.

When Bourdieu was developing his theory, the notion of field had already been largely used

in other disciplines, such as physics and mathematics (Hilgers and Mangez 2015). However,

what makes Bourdieu’s notion of field different from others is his discussion of the “struggle”

of the field. Agents are defined by their social positions in a space that can be described as a

field of forces. Social fields are fields of struggles, where struggles are aimed at transforming

or preserving the forces and positions that agents hold within a given field. The relations of a

field are not merely defined by interactions between agents but also based on “the force of

competing positions” and the struggle to “re-configure field hierarchies” (Hilgers and Mangez

2015:218). As Bourdieu (1996) illustrates, there is constant competition in social space where

agents and institutions struggle for certain social positions or power relations. Bourdieu

(1992:229) argues that a field is a “multi-dimensional space of positions” where positions of

power are defined by the stakes or values that social agents hold. Those stakes or values are

considered as capital (ibid.).

Bourdieu defines four principal forms of capital. Economic capital is the root of all other

forms of capital. It can be directly converted into property rights or money (Bourdieu 1986).

However, economic capital is less relevant in an amateur subtitling environment such as

fansubbing, because instead of gaining monetary rewards as in the professional industry,

amateur subtitlers mostly provide free labour and are activated by altruistic motivations.

Social capital is a form that arises from belonging to a particular social group and takes effect




through the connections established between its members. Bourdieu (1986:248) defines social

capital as a “durable network of more or less institutionalised relationships of mutual

acquaintance and recognition”. Cultural capital refers to cultural assets beyond economic

means, including knowledge, skills, languages, qualifications and so on. Most of the

properties of cultural capital are linked to the body and presuppose embodiment (Bourdieu

1986: 244). Therefore, the accumulation of cultural capital lies in what is called “culture” and

“cultivation”, and it implies a labour of “inculcation” and “assimilation” (Bourdieu 1986:243).

Unlike the exchange of gifts, money or property rights, cultural capital is a personal

investment of “self-improvement” that can be converted into an integral part of the person,

feeding into their embodied dispositions (Bourdieu 1986:244). This embodied state of cultural

capital makes it impossible to acquire beyond the “appropriating capacities of an individual

agent”; thus it functions in numerous ways in an agent’s “biological singularity” and will

decline and die with the bearer (ibid.). As the transmission and acquisition of cultural capital

are more subtle and “disguised” than economic capital, it can also function as symbolic

capital, which refers to the legitimate competence of honour, prestige or recognition. As

Skeggs (1977:8) explains, symbolic capital is “powerful capital” because it brings power

within it and it is a symbol of status. It can be inferred that symbolic capital mainly functions

as the legitimate basis of social positions in a given society; it does not have its own particular

mode of existence and it can be seen as a form of capital in the eyes of the others (ibid.).

Drawing on these definitions of field and capital, I argue that the subtitling field can be seen

as a social space that is specifically dedicated to the activity of subtitling and its boundary is

set by subtitling capital. Referring to Ivarsson and Carroll’s (1998:97) definition of subtitling

practice, “displays” are produced during the shooting of the film and used as written texts

within the picture; “captions”, or “subtitles”, are written narrative, intertitles, or places

indicating where the scene took place and produced after the actual shooting and added to the

film later. Rather than being presented within the same modality, as in traditional translation,

the practice of subtitling transfers the communication mode by converting the spoken verbal

Source Text (ST) into the written verbal/visual Target Text (TT). The shift modality between




ST and TT makes subtitling a social practice that is different from any other form of

translation. The subtitling field is defined by subtitling capital that transgresses the modality

between ST and TT, and subtitling capital could be regarded as a form of capital that is

guarded and dispensed only by subtitlers. It is inferred to be a credit that subtitlers possess,

accumulate and spend. Specifically, subtitling capital is cultural, referring to particular

subtitling abilities or skills required in subtitling production. It is the subtitler’s cultural

competences and a strategic “sense of the game” deriving from the internalization of cultural

capital in the subtitlers’ dispositions. As subtitling is sited in a system that transfers the

semiotic mode from spoken into written, subtitlers are thus considered to be able to deal with

various specific skills involved in subtitling, such as dealing with technical constraints (such

as of time and space), synchronizing images with timecodes and possessing technical abilities

in using subtitling software. Subtitling capital also implies a symbolic dimension, referring to

symbolic power and status in the subtitling field, including the recognition and acceptance of

the importance of subtitling in society, the reputation gained by creating good subtitles and so

on. Crucially, it is worth noting that capital is convertible rather than immutable. The

convertibility of different forms of capital is basic for maintaining the reproduction of capital

and the agent’s social position in a given field. For example, the possession of large amount

of cultural capital helps some well-skilled fansubbers to stand out in the community and thus

gain a high degree of reputation and the possibility of becoming a group leader or supervisor.

This convertibility of capital from cultural into symbolic is pivotal for reproducing group

positions and roles in fansubbing communities.

As previously mentioned, a field is a structure of relative positions within which social agents

act and take positions (Hilgers and Mangez 2015:5), and the acquisition of capital enables

social agents to maintain or obtain more dominant positions in a field. In addition to the

competitive nature of a field, another key property of a field is that it is not a thing-concept,

but a relation-concept (Hilgers and Mangez 2015:4-10). For Bourdieu, it is the set of

relationships in the system, or its configuration, that truly gives access to a field. Seen in this

light, when studying a specific field, it is necessary to weave together other neighbouring




fields rather than focusing on a single field in isolation. A property of fields is that they are

“systems of relations independent of the populations defined by those relations” (ibid.).

Moreover, a field is “a relatively autonomous domain of activity that responds to rules of

functioning” (ibid.). According to Bourdieu (1993), the autonomisation of certain groups or

activities indicates the emergence and accumulation of a specific type of capital, whose

holders constitute the specific field. The more autonomous, the more specific competence an

agent needs to master and possess, and the more a specific language and form of

representation are required in order to enter the field. Yet it is worth noting that the autonomy

of the field is relative. Taking the artistic field as an example, Bourdieu (1983) argues that the

field is a struggle between two opposing principles, an internal principle of autonomy that

rejects external determinants and represents the pure value of art, and an external principle of

heteronomy taking into account economic and political power, since artistic production is

used to make money or to gain political power. In other words, any given field is affected by

two types of forces: the autonomous forces that are internal to the given field, and the

heteronomous forces that originate from the field of power.

The field of power is thus a key concept to understand the structure of a social field. Bourdieu

(1992:300) notes that rather than being linked to a specific social activity, the field of power is

“the space of relations of force between agents or between institutions having in common the

possession of the capital necessary to occupy dominant positions in the different fields.” The

field of power is structured by two opposite fractions: the dominant economic fraction and the

dominated cultural fraction. Thus the field of power is defined by the opposition between

dominant economic capital and dominated cultural capital. Every specific field is likely to be

situated within the field of power and it is for this reason that every field, such as fansubbing,

is influenced by a double hierarchy. I argue that the dynamics of the fansubbing field derive

from the structure of the field of power, i.e. of the relation of domination that hierarchises

cultural capital and economic capital. The fansubbing field generates an autonomous pole

(subtitling purely for the love of genres that are often unavailable within the mainstream,

commercial and nationally regulated framework), and a heteronomous pole (producing




subtitled products that help to market goods, or to promote mainstream discourse and

ideologies favoured by the dominant class). Additionally, the field of fansubbing itself is also

structured by the history of its internal struggles.

To uncover both the external and internal power relations of fansubbing practice in China and

to discuss the role of fansubbers as social agents that constitute hierarchies in the online

environment, this article uses Pierre Bourdieu’s concepts of field and capital to examine the

power dynamics of fansubbing in China. The advantage offered by Bourdieu’s theory is its

ability to “construct an object of research afresh” (Krasnopeyeva 2018:40). Specifically,

fansubbing not only challenges traditional translation models, but also blurs the boundaries

between producers and consumers, professionals and amateurs, and individual and

collaborative practice. Bourdieu’s theory, in essence, is relational and contextual. It

acknowledges social agents’ potential to transform their settings and circumstances and

allows us to explain how social structures or mechanisms are reproduced by individual agents

in their daily activities. It enables us to look into the dynamics of the online amateur

environment and social relations of power as well as the hierarchical relations of fansubbing

practice. Although the concept of power has been defined in various forms by social theorists

before (e.g. Weber, Foucault), Bourdieu expands Weber’s (1979) theory of power in his

(Weber’s) discussion of political economy and religion to include cultural and social relations

(Swartz 1996). When exploring to what extent fansubbers are reproducing accepted

governmental ideologies in terms of power through their supposedly autonomous activities,

cultural and social relations of power become central to the analysis. Foucault (1991, 1998)

elaborates power in terms of social life and notes that power is cognitively and bodily

embedded in cultural practices. Bourdieu builds on Foucault’s approaches to power but

theorises different forms of capital within a field in which power becomes embedded. This

provides Bourdieu the ability to explore various forms of resources such as symbolic and

social capital to understand when and how power can develop within a given field (Geukjian

2013), and provides an effective tool to understand how fansubbers produce and circulate

valued capital to acquire power within the subtitling field.




Building on a Bourdieusian perspective, below is a summary of the key discussions of the

notions of field and capital and their relation to fansubbing practice in China. Detailed

analysis will be presented in the following sections.

Table 1: Key Properties of Bourdieusian Field and Capital in Fansubbing

Basic Properties of Bourdieusian Field and

Capital

Fansubbing Applications

Property 1: Each field has its own logic and

taken for granted structure of necessity and is

marked by its field-specific capital.

The subtitling field is dedicated to a specific

type of translation that transfers the modality

between ST and TT by adopting technological

software, and is defined by subtitling capital.

Property 2: Social space does not take place in

an ideal independent field. Rather, it eventuates

in a socio-cultural environment where agents

are influenced by powers from other

institutions.

The structure of the subtitling field is closely

related to the film field and subtitlers need film

capital during the production of subtitles.

Property 3: Each field is governed by two

opposing principles: an external or

heteronomous principle that originates from the

field of power and an internal or autonomous

principle to the given field.

The fansubbing field derives from the field of

power and is structured by the double hierarchy

between the dominant economic principle

(helping to market goods or to promote

mainstream discourse and ideologies favoured

by the dominant class) and the dominated

cultural capital principle

(subtitling pure genres only for fun or love).

Property 4: A field is a structure of constant

struggles within which social agents act and

take positions.

Within the fansubbing field, fansubbers are

competing with each other to gain certain

positions by accumulating various types of

capital.

Property 5: Based on the unique logic within a

specific field, the accumulation of resources

The fansubbing community constitutes their

own ways of defining how status and power can




under different forms of capital can lead to

different types of distinction.

be acquired and allocated, based on a set of

community rules and membership criteria.

3. Research method

This article adopts Kozinets’ approach of netnography as the dominant method to collect

relevant data in the three fansubbing communities under consideration (Orange, Fixsub and

ShinY). Netnography (i.e. ethnography on the Internet) is a term coined by Kozinets (1998,

2010) and is derived from the traditional anthropological approach of ethnography to

understand a particular online cultural group or social setting. Kozinets (2010:366) defines

netnography as a “written account resulting from fieldwork studying the cultures and

communities that emerge from online, computer-mediated, or Internet-based communications.”

As the definition indicates, both fieldwork and textual accounts are methodologically

informed by the traditions and techniques of cultural anthropology.

Following Kozinets’ (2010) argument, unlike the traditional ethnographer who might travel a

great distance to locate a particular culture or community, netnographers can make use of the

judicious deployment of an Internet search engine. In line with the purpose of this article, I

initially narrowed down the communities based on their language pairs (mainly translating

from English into Chinese) and genres (mainly subtitling films or TV series). Aiming to have

a panoramic and diverse understanding of Chinese fansubbing communities, I read the history

and background information of several potential sites and tried to select both well-established

and newer fansubbing communities. Eventually, Orange, Fixsub and ShinY were chosen as

the target sites for the following reasons:

(1) Relevance: ShinY has over 900,000 registered members, Fixsub has over 6,000 and

Orange has over 750. Established in 2009, ShinY is one of largest and more mature

Chinese fansubbing communities, while Orange and Fixsub were both established more

recently in 2015. This provides a diverse perspective into fansubbing communities of

different scales and different positions in the field.




(2) Activity: fansubbing communities have a high turnover rate. The recent and regular

communication on either the forums or websites of the three fansubbing communities

selected indicates an active and stable status.

(3) Accessibility: the three communities are all currently open for new applications, which

made my fieldwork activities and participation to the communities itself possible.

After selecting the three fieldsites, I participated in the three communities’ entry tests

according to their recruitment policy and successfully became an official member in all three.

The data used in this article was collected during my participation between January 2018 and

July 2018. The main ethical consideration that arises from my netnographic research regards

my role as a full insider, as I had to protect fansubbers’ privacy and maintain each fansubbing

community’s confidentiality. To overcome this ethical issue, I asked three fansubbing

communities’ group leaders for permission for my entry as a researcher to carry out the

participation and sent the participation observation consent form to fansubbers alongside the

participant information sheet describing the detailed procedure of the research. Participants’

pseudonyms and organisation’s claims are revealed in this article only on the basis of their

consent.

As suggested by Kozinets (2010:98), netnographic research can involve three types of sources:

(1) archival data; (2) fieldnotes; (3) elicited data. The first two types of data are utilised for

the purpose of this article. Regarding archival data, two sub-types of archival documents are

considered. The first is the external documents that are shown publicly to all Internet users

without any access limitations. This includes fansubbing communities’ websites, forums, and

social media pages (e.g. Weibo4 and Wechat Official Accounts5). This type of source offers

rich glimpses into the background information, trends and themes of an online social

phenomenon and its relation to other external social fields. For instance, the fansubbing

4 Weibo is a Chinese microblogging software launched by the Sina Corporation in 2009. It has become one of

the most popular social media platforms in China. 5 Wechat Official Account was launched in 2013 by Tecent after the blocking of Facebook. Users can open their

account to access a web page directly or conduct live chat with friends on this platform.




community’s history, goals, specialities, recruitment information and communication

regulations are generally described on these sites. From a research standpoint, these sources

can shed light on fansubbers’ decisions or ideologies in response to external circumstances

and can enable a mapping of the social field in which fansubbing takes place. The second type

of archival documents utilised in this article consists of the internal documents and files

uploaded on a fansubbing community, including membership rules, translation principles,

worksheets and subtitled works. Such a source is potentially valuable as it provides an

effective way of identifying the internal policies and regulations in fansubbing communities,

and of exploring issues such as the comparison between the fansub production pattern and its

established subtitling equivalent; the degree of productive autonomy enjoyed by fansubbers;

and the hierarchical membership criteria based on the distribution of various forms of capital.

In terms of the fieldnotes data, Evernote6 was employed to take notes immediately after daily

participation as a supplement to the archival data. As Evernote can be downloaded as an app

and installed in mobile software, I used it to record images, texts, and screenshots together

with my own comments for subsequent analysis. As the major communication tools utilised

by Chinese fansubbers for daily contact are QQ7 and forums, my fieldnotes are primarily

based on the messages I read in QQ and forums, interactions observed in the three

communities, and reflexive fieldnotes generated by my participant observation.

4. Fansubbing as a social sub-field in the subtitling field

4.1 Mapping out the subtitling field in China

China’s subtitling field began to develop long before the emergence of fansubbing and can be

traced back to the beginning of the 20th century. Even before China developed a film field of

its own, a large number of foreign films from Europe and America had overwhelmed the

Chinese market (Yu 2013:58). In 1922, the Shanghai Peacock Film Company pioneered

translating foreign films shown with Chinese subtitles; this turned out to be a great success

6 Evernote is an app designed for taking notes and archiving images and videos. More details regarding the

functions of Evernote can be found here https://www.evernote.com. 7 QQ is a Chinese instant messaging software. The major service provided by this online software is text chat or

video chat.




and led many other film studios to follow suit (ibid.). After the foundation of P. R. China in

1949, four state-run studios (Shanghai Studio, August First Studio, Changchun Studio and

Beijing Studio) were successively established and considered to be the first agents in China

who produced subtitles. Between 1978 and 1990, with the promotion of the official Opening

up Policy8, the change of production mode in terms of the economics and management of film

studios led the four state-run studios to become market-oriented, and foreign films started to

be gradually regarded as a commercial product instead of a political propaganda tool (Ma

2005:26). However, the four state-run studios are still considered to be directly governed by

the country’s leading party as their work is strictly censored and modified, aiming to oblige

them to conform to the leading party’s ideologies (Wang and Zhang 2015:182).

Since 1992, a revitalization of reform9 and a renewed emphasis on the market economy have

encouraged the emergence of a second subtitle-producing agent - private subtitling companies.

With the advent of the 21st century, Web 2.0 has facilitated the transformation of users to

active producers and this has provided an opportunity for amateur translators to enter the

subtitling field. Loyal fans of audiovisual products constructing online subtitling communities

have contributed to the formation of the third agent in China who produces subtitles. The

emergence of these two new agents has brought new struggles and strategies by adding new

modes of ideas and expressions. For example, as a newcomer to the field, Chinese fansubbing

introduced new positions by challenging the traditional orthodox subtitling techniques of the

established subtitlers, and in order to gain recognition, fansubbers produced their own

methods of “creative subtitling” (van Toner 2015) or “abusive subtitling” (Nornes 1999)

yielding both aesthetic and functional subtitles.

Nevertheless, subtitling as a social activity does not take place in an ideal independent field.

8 The Opening up Policy (改革开放) was proposed by the Chinese reformist Deng Xiaoping in 1978 and refers

to programmes of economic reforms known as “Socialism with Chinese characteristics.” 9 As a follow-up reform of the “opening up policy”, China’s economy began to dramatically expand from 1992,

based on a revitalizing reform and a renewed emphasis on market economics. More details regarding the reform

process commenced in 1992 can be found at:

http://documents.worldbank.org/curated/en/424651468769174777/China-reform-and-development-in-1992-93.




Rather, it eventuates in a socio-cultural environment where agents’ production practice is

influenced by powers from other institutions or the acquisition of capital from other relational

fields. In fact, the emergence of subtitles was a result of the arrival of films. The initiation and

production of subtitles is an intention to meet the cultural diversity of target viewers to

understand a foreign film. The popularization of the film industry carried its power to the

subtitling field and influenced the production of subtitles. According to the Report on the

Development of the Global Film Industry10, the global film industry hit an all-time high of

$40.6 billion in 2017 and is still growing each year. The dominance of Hollywood films is no

longer restricted to producing traditional films, but also covers various audiovisual products

such as TV series, music videos and reality shows, and all these cultural exports facilitate the

transfer into multiple languages. The Chinese film industry also experienced a boom after the

Opening up Policy and although restricted by the state to protect the domestic market, a high

number of foreign films have been imported. According to the Report on the Development of

the Global Film Industry, 129 foreign films have been subtitled and adapted for the screen in

2017. Additionally, the Golden Rooster Rewards for ‘Best Translated Film’ established by the

China Film Association represents the film field bringing its influence to the subtitling field

and increasing the visibility of subtitle production. Owing to this reward from the film field,

authoritative recognitions are imposed and the impact on the acceptance and visibility of

subtitling is enhanced. Moreover, subtitlers require film capital during the production of

subtitling. Professional subtitlers normally need knowledge of film studies, such as an

understanding of different types of camera shots and knowledge of composition, so as to

better synchronise the subtitles with the image (Ma 2005:30-41). Regarding fansubbing,

fansubbers have rich domain knowledge in terms of film plots and characters, and this is used

to produce the most appropriate subtitles.

Additionally, the structure and production of subtitles in China exist within the nexus with its

broader field — the field of translation. As a sub-field of translation, the production of

10 Report on the Development of the Global Film Industry, also known as the Blue Book of Film, is an annual report on

development of the global film industry published by the Beijing Film Academy and Social Sciences Academic Press. More

information can be found at: https://www.ssap.com.cn/c/2018-06-15/1069189.shtml

https://www.ssap.com.cn/c/2018-06-15/1069189.shtml




subtitles shows that the canonical principles of 信 (faithfulness), 达 (comprehensibility)

and 雅 (elegance) rooted in the translation field are also widely promoted and applied. These

translation principles were proposed by Chinese translator and political reformist Yan Fu in

the late nineteenth century. Yan Fu was one of the first translators to introduce Western social

sciences and cultures to China and was the first reformist to propose to develop China as a

strong nation by learning from Western countries in the wake of the First Sino-Japanese War

(Sinn 1995). Yan’s books and articles have enlightened academic elites and translators and his

canonical principles from one of his famous books Tianyan Lun (天演论) have firmly

established the translation field in China (ibid.). As Yan Fu states, translators should be

faithful to the original source and the factors of comprehensibility and elegance should be

considered only if faithfulness is fulfilled (Liang 2010). Yan’s tripartite translation principles

attract universal attention in Chinese-speaking regions thanks to generational education, and

foster the standardization of translation behaviour for translation agents. Conforming to the

traditional Chinese ideology of “loyalty”11, Yan’s translation principles have been highly

acknowledged, accepted and internalised in the minds of translators, instructing them to be

“loyal” and “faithful” to the ST (ibid.). For example, Fixsub (Figure 1) explicitly states on its

official website that the general translation principles and objectives in the community should

follow the traditional concepts of faithfulness, comprehensibility and elegance, and respect

the ST as much as possible.

11 The ideology of “loyalty” has influenced Chinese culture since the fourth century BC when Qu Yuan, a

Chinese poet and minister who lived during the Warring States period of ancient China (340–278 BC),

committed suicide to show his loyalty to the emperor. This ideology also conforms to traditional Confucian

thought, guiding people to be loyal to their partner, to their parents, to their employer and so on.




Figure 1: Screenshot of Fixsub’s Translation Principles and Objectives on the Introduction

Page of the Website (highlighted and translated in red).

4.2 Fansubbing’s autonomous and heteronomous status in the field

Being situated within the field of subtitling, fansubbing illustrates its heteronomous principles

against established professional practice. The results demonstrate that the working flow of the

three communities (Figure 2) tend to be the same and could be divided into three major

processes: administrative process, moderation process and translation process. Administrators

are involved in the administrative process, and they are mainly in charge of recruitment and

defining a community’s rules and regulations. The moderation process usually involves

moderators and directors. Their main function is to keep the community organised by making

sure news or comments are posted and replied to in an appropriate way. They are also in

charge of guiding new members and supervising the entire subtitling workflow. The

translation process involves subtitlers who are responsible for different parts of the task: raw

material finders, timers, translators, editors, proofreaders and encoders (Figure 3). It is worth

noting that the raw material providers select the videos (usually obtained from the USA and

the UK) based on the community’s preferences, and this procedure is free from external




supervision. The timer is responsible for verifying the synchronization. Translators then

voluntarily sign up for a part of the translation (usually 100 to 300 subtitles per person) and

once the translation is finished, proofreaders will revise the work and ensure the coherence of

the translation. Editors are in charge of making special effects on subtitles and merging the

subtitle file with the video file to create one single file. Finally, encoders convert the video

into different formats and upload them to subtitle-sharing websites available for audiences to

download.

Figure 2: Workflow in Three Fansubbing Communities

Figure 3: Subtitling Process in Three Fansubbing Communities

As shown above, being situated within the field of subtitling, the working processes of the

three fansubbing communities discussed here share characteristics with established subtitling

practice. Fansubbing’s workflow of timing, translating and editing, alongside its management

model, echoes the professional subtitling procedure. Chen (2014:159-161) describes the

general process of subtitling in professional subtitling settings in China, including the stages

from commission to transmission. Figure 4 illustrates the stages from reception of the

material to its distribution in four state-run studios:

Administrative Process

•Administrators

Moderation Process

•Moderators

•Directors

Translation Process

•Raw material finders

•Timers

•Translators

•Proofreaders

•Editors

•Encoders

Raw Material Reception

Timing Translating Proofreading EditingEncoding and Distributing




Figure 4: Professional Subtitling Process in State-run Studios

By comparing fansubbing processes to professional subtitling workflow, I argue that

fansubbing implies a “semi-professional” tendency due to its assimilation of the advantages

of the established industrial production model. On the other hand, the fact that three

fansubbing communities have their own patterns of production, promotion and release implies

that Chinese fansubbing groups mediate and carry out a relatively autonomous surrogate

demand-supply distribution and circulation system, or in other words, a “productive

autonomy” as described by Rong (2014:105). Through participation, the three communities

apply a “self-selecting” and “self-distributing” rule when choosing raw materials and

uploading subtitled works. Both rules are free from the pre-censorship and post-censorship

procedure imposed by SAPPRFT12 which is the case for the four state-run studios and private

companies. The allocation of tasks in fansubbing communities is normally based on personal

interests and is never mandatory unless translators are in short supply, and the distribution of

final works is completed by uploading files to domestic third-party subtitle-sharing or

video-sharing websites, such as SubHD, Zimuku, and Bilibili. Formal media supervision is

absent in the production stage of fansubs. This provides fansubbers with an unparalleled

degree of power over the flow of media and enables them to be transformed from passive

consumers into active producers, creating autonomous individuals (Kelty 2008:210). The

production model of fansubbing also displays the democratic power of subtitle creation and

the lack of pressure from dominant institutions or authorities, which fosters a self-mediating

dynamic of social interaction.

12 SAPPRFT is the acronym of the State Administration of Press, Publication, Radio, Film and Television. It is a

ministry-level agency directly led by the State Council of China and its main duty is to supervise and

administrate the media industry.

First Review by SAPPRFT

Translate the

Original Transcripts

Proofread

and

Check

EditPost

productionFinal

Review

Pass to SAPPRT and Await

Release




However, although the formal monitoring mechanism is absent in the production stage of

fansubbing, censorship imposed by the government does happen at other levels or stages of

the practice, such as monitoring fansubbers’ products on third-party video-sharing websites.

For instance, Bilibili claims that all the content of films and TV played on the website will be

reviewed and that contents that do not meet their standards will be blocked or removed from

the platform. To avoid their content being blocked or deleted from third-party websites, the

three fansubbing communities suggest a tendency of self-censorship either explicitly or

implicitly. Self-censorship refers to a set of unconscious moral ideologies of individuals

struggling between self and context (Bar-Tal 2015:37). Self-censorship rules are formulated

by community members themselves. For example, in ShinY, on the administrative district of

the forum, there is a top note explicitly referring to the self-censorship rule:

In order to stay in line with Internet censorship regulations, participants are

strictly forbidden to publish and translate any politically sensitive, violent or

sexually explicit content either on their forum or QQ groups. Once found, you

will be kicked out of the community permanently (original in Chinese,

translated by the author).

The results suggest that the three communities are highly aware of the existence of the

government policies. They explicitly show how they stay in line with the state’s ideologies,

including Internet regulations and national copyright laws. The top notice of the QQ groups of

Fixsub declares:

Any politically sensitive utterances are forbidden, otherwise you will be

kicked out. Moderate sexual content is fine but be careful not to be too

excessive (original in Chinese, translated by the author).

As Bourdieu notes, competent players within a field are those who can negotiate, reinterpret,

or break the rules by keeping the appearance of the rule or its supposed outcome, rather than




those who conform to norms as cultural dopes (Reckwitz 2002:256). Thus in order to

maintain the status-quo, fansubbers have reproduced the accepted governmental ideologies

through reinterpreting and negotiating the mainstream ideologies in the community’s rules. In

Orange, the top notice declares the requirements of obeying national laws and Internet

regulations, and the consequences that may arise from illegal actions. In ShinY, there is a

“monitoring system” (see Figure 5). Administrators of the forum will monitor members’

inappropriate utterances, and ordinary members are encouraged to conduct mutual

supervision and are rewarded for reporting such violations. Members are strictly forbidden to

publish any politically sensitive utterances or sexually explicit contents. Violators will be

warned or expelled, and serious cases will be subject to legal action.

Figure 5: Screenshot of ShinY’s Monitoring System (highlighted in red)

Despite the three fansubbing communities having relative autonomy over deciding which

material to subtitle, the results demonstrate that fansubbers attempt to keep away from

material that is highly sensitive or that violates accepted power ideologies. Below is a

dialogue from a group discussion in Orange regarding the translation of an R-rated13 film,

13 An R-rated film is defined as restricted film by the Motion Picture Association of America (MPAA) film

rating system and requires a parent or adult guardian for those under 17.




Fifty Shades of Grey. The community consequently gave up subtitling the film due to the

potential risks triggered by strong sexual content and nudity in the film. China’s Internet

censorship has been referred as “China’s Great Firewall 14 ” and has strict rules and

prohibitions for detailed sexual plots including nudity. In order to avoid being sanctioned by

China's Great Firewall, fansubbers are enforcing accepted power ideologies to maintain their

status quo.

Internet laws have changed the production of fansubbing translation not only in the treatment

of the issue of sensitive content but also with regard to copyright infringement. Since the

spread of the “Great Clean-up” policy15 in 2014 and the closure of China’s largest subtitle

website Shooter, the strict copyright laws either promoted by the nation and commercial film

companies have forced fansubbing communities to merely provide subtitles rather than the

whole videos. For example, in the Resource Download District on the official website of

ShinY, the majority of the resources are marked as “subtitles download only” (Figure 6). This

means the files to be downloaded are subtitle files (usually in SRT. or ASS. format)

containing only text. In Orange and Fixsub, on their video downloading page, subtitle files

have been put in the prioritised place for downloading (Figures 7 and 8).

14 China’s Great Firewall (中国防火长城) is China’s Internet censorship system regulated by the government

led by the leading Communist Party from 2000. It aims to take legislative actions to prohibit selected foreign

websites and control the distribution of harmful contents including sex, violence and politically-sensitive

information. More information can be found here: https://www.bloomberg.com/quicktake/great-firewall-of-china 15 The “Great Clean-up” policy was launched in 2014 by the state, aiming to close and block any content on the

Internet that was against the law.

https://www.bloomberg.com/quicktake/great-firewall-of-china




Figure 6: Screenshot of ShinY’s Download District (highlighted in red)

Figure 7: Screenshot of Fixsub’s Download Page (highlighted in red)




Figure 8: Screenshot of Orange’s Download Page (highlighted in red)

In terms of deciding which digital material to subtitle, the three fansubbing communities not

only focus on members’ interests but also pay attention to market expectations. For example,

in ShinY, the raw material finders are required to conduct questionnaires or interviews with

audiences regularly, or let audiences vote for the films or TV series they most want to watch

in order to understand the mass audiences’ demands and capture the most popular materials.

In Orange, moderators construct a voting system that encourages audiences to vote for their

favourite video resolution or the most highly-anticipated documentaries (Figures 9 and 10).

This implies that fansubbing communities tend to subtitle the products that are most preferred

and demanded by the audiences and follow the logic of the market to enhance their visibility.

In general, it can be inferred that compared with the state-run studios and private subtitling

companies, online fansubbing communities have some autonomy to select whatever content

they want to subtitle, how they would like to translate, and where they want to distribute their

translated work. However, the fact that they have developed self-censorship rules to ensure

that the content they subtitle as well as the messages they post on their forums do not contain

any politically or sexually sensitive content demonstrates that their activities are not free from

the influence of dominant ideologies. The forces from the power field still constrain

fansubbing practice via imposing Internet censorship and copyright laws to a great extent.




Figure 9: Screenshot of Voting for the Favourite Video Resolution in Orange

(highlighted in red)

Figure 10: Screenshot of Voting for the Most Highly-Anticipated Documentary in Orange

(highlighted in red)




Figure 11 functions as a summary of the previous section, displaying the power relations of

fansubbing with the political and economic fields and other two agents in the subtitling field

in China. As discussed above, state-run studios and private subtitling companies both enforce

the accepted governmental ideologies and indicate a higher degree of the heteronomous

principle of hierarchization that exists within the field of power. The degree of influence

exerted by the power field in fansubbing is lower than for the other two agents; however, the

forces from the political field constrain fansubbing practice through imposing Internet

censorship and copyright laws, resulting in an increasingly lower degree of autonomy. After

examining the external power relations of fansubbing within multiple social fields, in the next

section the internal power relations and ideologies within the community in terms of capital

competition in the three communities will be discussed.

Figure 11: The Power Relations of Fansubbing in the Subtitling Field in China




5. Competition for capital and power structure in fansubbing

5.1 Three dimensions of capital in fansubbing

5.1.1 Fansubbing and culture capital: recruitment process, in-group languages and etiquette

As seen above, relative autonomy has enabled fansubbing to develop its own appropriate

practices and behaviours, and therefore become a “field” in its own right with internal power

relations and ideologies. The same as any other cultural field, fansubbing is recognised as a

field with its various norms and values, and as having various types of capital. One of the

most renowned aspects of fansubbing is its presence of cultural capital through constructing

several cultural conventions. The result shows that unlike the wider acceptance of entries that

mostly rely on the applicant’s educational qualifications, the three communities all require

newcomers to answer a questionnaire, take an in-group test and undertake a certain period of

internship (see Figure 12 below). This demonstrates that fansubbers not only need

institutionalised cultural capital in the form of educational qualifications recognised by formal

institutions to join the community (i.e. university degree certificate, College English Test,

IELTS or TOEFL16), but also embodied cultural capital, because the questionnaire, in-group

test and internship can be seen as an examination of fansubbers’ embodied abilities. For

example, in the questionnaires, participants will be provided with a series of very detailed

movie-related questions to examine whether they are really experienced in and passionate

about watching foreign media products. This illustrates that the recruitment process of

fansubbing communities requires an applicant’s cultural capital in its embodied form that

cannot be acquired instantaneously, but costs time, and the time must be invested personally

by the investor rather than “second hand”, because the interest and passion for, and skill in

handling foreign media products is a long-term process of acquisition by the agent

him/herself.

16In China there are four major qualifications to evaluate a citizen’s language level, namely a university degree

certificate, College English Test (CET), IELTS and TOEFL. CET is a national standardised English test

organised by the Higher Education department of the State Ministry of Education and can be divided into three

levels: band 4, band 6 and band 8. IELTS and TOEFL, the International English Language Testing System and

the Test of English as a Foreign Language, are two international English tests set by the University of Cambridge

and the American Educational Testing Service for foreign students who want to study at universities in

English-speaking countries.




Figure 12: Recruitment Processes in the Three Communities

Language Skills Resource

Required

Time Dedication Entry

Test

Internship

ShinY At least College English Test Band

6 or other equivalent qualifications

Not required

Not specified

Yes

Yes

Fixsub No certificates or language test

scores required

Fast Internet

connection

At least two

afternoons or

evenings free

every week

Yes

Yes

Orange At least a first degree in national

elite universities or overseas

universities; overseas experience

preferred; higher language

qualifications preferred

Not required

Not specified

Yes

Yes

(at least one

month)

Furthermore, the three fansubbing communities tend to build their own cultural knowledge, in

terms of having their own in-group language and etiquette. This cultural capital is a shared

and collective intelligibility that fansubbers are committed to making sense of and giving

sense to for other members. To exemplify, in-group language includes fansubbers’ own

nomenclature for the digital material, such as “熟肉 (‘cooked meat’ –subtitled works)” and

“生肉 (‘raw meat’ –un-subtitled works)”; nomenclature for the different levels’ members,

such as “萌新 (‘sprout’ – newer members) and “大佬” (‘gangster’ –senior members).

Etiquette thus involves a system of addressing individuals which shows the community’s

members seniority as well as the community’s hierarchization. Newcomers are called “小白

(little rabbit)” and should show their modesty and respect towards the existing members by

calling others “老板 (boss)” or “老司机 (old driver)”. A “master-apprentice” mode is also

found in fansubbing communities. New members are regarded as apprentices and should not

feel ashamed at having to learn from the senior members who are referred to as “master.” This

kind of internal power relation may be seen as a result of the wider social structures

influenced by the accepted ideologies of Confucianism. Confucian ideas have been deeply

rooted in the Chinese context for centuries, and as such people are encouraged to show their

modesty and respect to others, especially to people who are located in a higher position




(Hofstede and Bond 1988). How fansubbers use in-group language and adhere to group

etiquette reflects the degree of appropriate community knowledge, the level of hierarchy and

tacit power relations, as new members and apprentices ‘accept’ to respect seniors and be

modest. It is also possible that accepting and reproducing group etiquette is a kind of

“symbolic violence” as described by Bourdieu (Bourdieu and Passeron 1990), implying an

ideology that is imposed on subordinated members by the dominant group(s) to maintain and

naturalise the status quo, and which is internalised and recognised by the dominated members.

5.1.2 Fansubbing and symbolic capital: the credit system and the value of avatars

Symbolic capital implies status and power, and each field has its specific rules of constructing

symbolic power. In fansubbing, symbolic power is usually calculated by a credit system or a

virtual avatar. In ShinY, a virtual credit and prestige system are constructed on the forum.

Based on the rules, the higher credits fansubbers get, the higher prestige they will receive. The

credit is presented as a number and the prestige is presented as an emoji (Figure 13),

involving a combination of star, moon and sun emojis. This system is developed to allow

fansubbers to spot their most outstanding members and to show reputation in the community.

The changing of a credit number, and the changing from the emoji from “star” to “sun”, are

fansubbers’ symbolic and highly visual ways of representing the level of symbolic capital in

the community. Fansubbers in ShinY are therefore encouraged to keep accumulating their

credits and keep changing their emojis to be visibly experienced fansubbers, as a symbolic

form of distinction from other members. Having this form of symbolic capital helps construct

the continued participation in a community, as well as enabling fansubbers to acquire cultural

capital through exchanging credits for more digital resources in the group. Lower levels of

credit, on the other hand, directly influence fansubbers’ symbolic capital and their access to

the cultural capital of the community. Additionally, a high reputation and influence provide

more opportunities for social networking, as in the virtual world fansubbers are more willing

to communicate and make friends with those who have higher credits or a higher number of

emojis. Therefore, symbolic capital in turn also increases fansubbers’ social capital.




Figure 13: Screenshot of ShinY’s Credit and Prestige System (highlighted in red)

Regarding Fixsub and Orange, although the two communities do not have an explicit credit

system of building symbolic capital as shown in ShinY, both communities use fansubbers’

avatars to signal reputation and establish prestige, which could be referred to as “avatar

capital” following Castronova (2005). An avatar is of considerable importance in a virtual

environment as it can become a brand in its own right – a well-known avatar in the

fansubbing communities can imply large stocks of symbolic capital. Seen in this way, avatar

capital could be considered a particular type of symbolic capital used by fansubbers in the

construction of identity, recognition and self-branding. Fansubbers’ avatars, alongside their

pseudonyms, have the symbolic power to signal someone’s contribution and participation,

because the more other members are familiar with an avatar and pseudonym, the more

experienced or well-known the fansubber in question will be.

5.1.3 Fansubbing and social capital: the building of ‘community’

Social capital focuses on the durable network and relationships accrued through individuals’

participation in group activities. Social interaction in the three communities starts with the

assignation of a membership, that is, a commitment to participation in the group. Then,




fansubbers build social capital through notions of ‘communities’. QQ groups, Wechat, and

forums are the platforms for fansubbers to build and accumulate such capital. Building a

community is seen by group members as a way to increase bonding and mutual belonging

among each other, which in turn helps to build up social capital. Fansubbers are encouraged to

sign in to record their attendance every day and participate in group discussions actively, as

this contributes to the building of a durable and lasting connection among fansubbers and

increases the degree of mutual acquaintance, recognition and accountability.

Generally, the fansubbing communities under investigation share the characteristics of two

types of communities: a community of knowledge and a community of interest. The

‘community of knowledge’ is described by Jerkins (1992), referring to an online community

centred around sharing knowledge and building collective intelligence. In the case of

fansubbing, it is a self-sufficient community for fansubbers to solve translation or technical

problems (see examples below). Fansubbers who share a common interest in subtitling work

together to find solutions to a certain translation issue or software problem. Additionally,

cultural capital can also be acquired passively through learning knowledge from other

members. Some fansubbers use the community as a chance to make ‘academic’ friends and

their discussion contents go beyond the community level, covering various aspects such as

their own studies at university. This can also be interpreted as a matter of boosting fansubbers’

status and credentials to gain more recognition and power against other members within the

field. In terms of the community of interest, based on different films or TV series, each

fansubbing community consists of several sub-communities. Fansubbers are free to join any

sub-communities according to their own interests to find like-minded people. Friendships can

be formed, and it is interesting to note that some members are not only friends inside the

community but have formed long-lasting friendships in offline society as well.




5.2 Fansubbing’s hierarchy system

Every field is built on relations. These relations are defined and constrained by the capital the

agents hold. Owning different amounts of capital shows the different positions in fansubbing

communities (Bourdieu 1993). Organizational divisions and membership criteria indicate

members’ distinctive amounts of power held and each fansubbing community has a clear

division between members’ roles. Membership criteria are based on a combination of each

member’s cultural, social and symbolic capital. ShinY has two major types – administrators

and ordinary members. The administrator is responsible for the whole operation of the forum,

including designing, planning and coordinating forum members. Based on the different

amount of various forms of capital, especially the accumulation of symbolic capital in the

form of virtual credits, the administrator role is further divided into eight levels, while the

ordinary member role is further divided into 11 levels.




Figure 14: Membership Criteria in ShinY

Administrator Ordinary Members

Official Administrator ShinY Expert Top Level

Super Moderator ShinY Expert Level 3

Moderator ShinY Expert level 2

Intern Moderator ShinY Expert level 1

Editor Forum Senior

Monitor Premier Members

Auditor Advanced Members

VIP Intermediate Members

New Members

Restricted Members

Visitors

Fixsub’s membership imitates a company management style and is assessed by members’

online time, contributions and frequency of participation. It is mainly divided into eight

levels:

Figure 15: Membership Criteria in Fixsub

Orange’s membership17 categories display a very interesting style. The names of membership

17 Besides group leader, administrator and director, ‘crosstalk comedian’ (相声演员) is the fourth level of

member type in Orange. This type of member usually possesses a large amount of capital. As the name indicates,

they are competent in producing interesting works, and good at socializing and have a high-level networking

ability. ‘Activist’ (活跃分子) literally means active members. They are the fifth level of member type in Orange.

‘Commenter’ (吐槽) is an Internet neologism in Chinese, literally referring to a person who is humorous and

loves making jokes and commenting. ‘Bubbling’ (冒泡) is an Internet neologism in Chinese, referring to the

members who seldom talk in the community and have a limited social network. ‘Diving’ (潜水) is the lowest

level of member type in Orange. This word is also borrowed from an Internet neologism and refers to the

members who seldom or never talk in the community and have a very limited communication circle.

Group

Leader

Deputy Manager

Manager Administrator DirectorDirector

Assistant

Ordinary

MembersInterns




types are borrowed from Internet neologisms. Member levels in Orange rely heavily on levels

of networking ability or the accumulation of social capital:

Figure 16: Membership Criteria in Orange

As Bourdieu (1993) notes, social differences are exposed through systems of power and

competition, which occur in areas of cultural practice and symbolic exchange. The

membership criteria in each community indicate the existence of hierarchy (Figure 17).

Hierarchy in the three fansubbing communities demonstrates that individuals hold different

amounts of capital. The power structure in fansubbing communities indicates that the

members who have a higher degree of social capital, symbolic capital and cultural capital are

more powerful in the community, such as the case of group leaders who have a higher degree

of capital and are considered to be the most powerful members who have the prioritised right

to establish or modify certain rules or regulations. By contrast, new members are seen as at

the lower level of capital accumulation: they are less familiar with the group rules or etiquette

(less cultural capital), they have limited connections with other fansubbers (less social capital)

and they are seldom recognised by others (less symbolic capital). In turn, more capital helps

the dominant hold and reinforce their existing positions. This can be demonstrated by the fact

that new members do not find it easy to enter a fansubbing community or gain certain roles,

as the established members continually work hard to accumulate various types of capital to

maintain their status quo.

Group

LeaderAdministrator Director

Crosstalk

ComedianActivist Commenter Bubbling Diving




Figure 17: Relationship Between Capital, Role and Power in a Fansubbing community

Nevertheless, the positions held by different agents are not static, as there are continuous

struggles within a given field (Bourdieu 1992). The power hierarchy in fansubbing

communities referred to above changes over time and is a dynamic process rather than a fixed

state. For example, fansubbers are engaged in and compete for the accumulation of cultural

capital in the form of language capacity or Internet-related technological competence, such as

in the case of the existence of a “大神 (big god)” in the three communities. The “big god”

is someone considered to be talented in dealing with various technical issues, or competent in

solving difficult translation problems. Being a “big god” implies the highest amount of

cultural capital a fansubber can possess, and this in turn helps the fansubber occupy a more

dominant position in the community. It is interesting to note that “the big god” is not actually

a specified role; instead, it is a kind of “symbolic role” which is legitimately recognised

among fansubbers. The embodied cultural capital helping “the big god” to gain his/her

reputation illustrates the conversion from cultural capital into symbolic capital.

6. Conclusion

This article uncovered both the external and internal power relations of fansubbing practice in

the Chinese context by empirically employing netnography through the analysis of data such




as archival documents and fieldnotes in three fansubbing communities (ShinY, Orange, and

Fixsub). The analytical tools of field and capital make Bourdieu’s theory a valid approach for

highlighting amateur subtitling mechanisms. According to my data, the three fansubbing

practices considered can be seen as the result of power negotiations within and among

multiple social fields influenced by the government and immersed in the field of power as a

wider structure. Specifically, the article reveals that the field of subtitling in the communities

under scrutiny is defined by a type of field-specific capital – subtitling capital. This

field-specific capital differentiates the subtitling field’s agents from other external agents by

focusing on the specific expertise of producing subtitles. Additionally, compared with the

state-run subtitling studios and private subtitling companies, even though fansubbers in the

communities considered have some supposedly autonomous activities in terms of power

through conducting self-selection and through self-distribution, they still have to ensure that

the content they translate, as well as any other digital materials shared on their online

platforms, do not contain politically or sexually sensitive content. The fansubbers’ compliance

to dominant governmental policies and market-oriented raw material selection indicate

fansubbers’ heteronomous principle of hierarchisation that exists within the field of power,

and that the fansubbing field in China is still characterised by a very low degree of autonomy.

In terms of internal power relations, the three communities’ fansubbing developed a set of

in-group hierarchies and behaviours, implying an ideology that is imposed on subordinated

members by the dominant groups to maintain and naturalise the status quo. The internal

power relations in the analysed fansubbing communities are centred on the accumulation and

conversion of distinct forms of capital by agents. The varying degrees of capital possessed by

members of the three communities show that diverse position-takings enable a dynamic

mechanism within fansubbing communities.

The article has contributed to discussions of the theoretical and methodological approaches to

fansubbing’s social dynamics in a Chinese context. However, further research is necessary to

involve in-depth discourse analysis to focus on the extensive array of texts on fansubbing

communities’ websites, forums, and social media platforms, as online resources prove to be a




good place for discussion of language, cultural and ideological issues. Theoretically, one

limitation of the article to be noted is the lack of discussion about the status of non-human

objects such as technology as a way of experiencing and negotiating the field. Thus further

research is required to address the role of technology, such as the design features of the

websites and forums of fansubbing communities, in shaping the social struggle and dynamics

within these communities. Methodologically, further research could benefit from involving

elicited netnographic data, such as surveys and interviews, to look into the driving forces

behind a given agent’s accumulation of various types of capital.

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Uchenna Oyali, The Semantic Elaboration and Subversion of ‘Iko’ in Igbo Bible Translation, 130-162 130

The Semantic Elaboration and Subversion of Iko

in Igbo Bible Translation

Uchenna Oyali

University of Abuja, NIGERIA

[email protected]

ABSTRACT

Before their contact with Christianity in the mid-1800s, several Igbo communities practiced

iko mbara, an institution where a married person openly had a paramour with the consent of

their spouse. This practice was condemned by the Christian missionaries as further reflected

in their use of the term during Bible translation. Therefore, this study poses the following

questions: What did iko mean prior to its use in the Igbo Bible? In what ways is its use in the

Bible different from its use prior to the Bible translations? How has its use in the Bible changed

the perception of the term among Igbo speakers? What are the implications of these practices

in contexts of translation in Nigeria? To provide answers to these questions, I compared the

traditional Igbo practices that are designated with the term iko with the different contexts where

the term is used in Igbo Bible translation. Findings show how iko was re-semanticized during

Bible translation to now mean any form of sex outside a monogamous marriage framework,

which includes concubine, adultery, fornication and prostitute. This ideological strategy was

apparently aimed at giving iko a pejorative meaning, thereby discouraging Igbo Christians

from the practice. I also conducted a survey (questionnaire) findings from which show how

iko is perceived among Igbo speakers. This study contributes to research on the linguistic

impact of missionary translations on African languages. Methodologically, it demonstrates

how questionnaire survey could complement descriptive analysis in exploring the impact of

translations in the receiving language and culture.

Keywords: Bible translation; Igbo language; iko mbara; semantic elaboration; ideology in

translation; missionary translation practices

Ụtọ ka na iko “There is more fun with the iko” – Igbo women

Gị akwala iko “Do not engage in iko” – The Bible

1. Introduction

Alongside Hausa and Yoruba, Igbo is one of the three major native languages spoken in Nigeria

According to the Nigerian National Population Commission, the population of Nigeria is



approximately 182 million1. The 2017 CIA World Fact Book states that the Igbo make up 18% of

the Nigerian population2. These statistics place the population of Igbo speakers at approximately

33 million. As a native language, Igbo is spoken in Abia, Anambra, Ebonyi, Enugu, and Imo States

and in parts of Delta and Rivers States of Nigeria (see Figure 1). Although many Igbo people have

migrated to different parts of the world where they have formed Igbo communities and use the

Igbo language for communication, Igbo is spoken as a native language only in the Nigerian States

mentioned above.

Figure 1: Map of Igboland (Oyali 2018)

1 http://population.gov.ng/nigerias-population-now-182-million-npc/ (accessed 2 August 2018) 2 https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/geos/ni.html (accessed 2 August 2018)

http://population.gov.ng/nigerias-population-now-182-million-npc/

https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/geos/ni.html



Before their contact with Christianity in the mid-1800s, several Igbo communities practiced iko

mbara, an institution where a married person openly had a paramour with the consent of their

spouse (Uchendu 1965). However, in the 1800s, missionaries of the Church Missionary Society

(CMS), a society of the Church of England, arrived in Igboland for evangelism. Part of their

evangelism activities included translating the Bible from English into Igbo. These missionaries

condemned the practice of iko mbara. To further demonstrate their disapproval of the institution,

used the term iko during their process of Bible translation to designate different sexual activities

considered sinful in Christianity although iko did not have negative associations in the Igbo culture.

The decision to use this term is important in that subsequent translations of the Bible into Igbo

maintain this ideological use of iko for supposedly sinful sexual activities, with wider implications

for social practices in Igbo Christian communities until today.

This study thus explores how the appropriation of iko in Igbo Bible translation has changed the

meaning of the term over time. It is guided by the following questions: What did iko mean prior to

its use in the Igbo Bible? In what ways is its use in the Bible different from its use prior to the

Bible translations? How has its use in the Bible changed the perception of the term among Igbo

speakers? What are the implications of these practices in contexts of translation in Nigeria? To

provide answers to these questions, the study first presents Igbo cultural practices that are

designated with the term iko (5.0). These are then juxtaposed with the different contexts where iko

is used in Igbo Bible translation (6.0). This comparative approach shows how the use of iko in the

Bible differs from its use prior to the Christianization of the Igbo. To situate these findings in

contemporary contexts, I also share findings drawn from a questionnaire survey administered to

Igbo speakers which shows their perception of the concept (7.0). In this way, this paper shows the

enduring impact of the first Igbo versions of the Bible and the importance of investigating

historical translations of the Bible in contexts of Translation Studies. It also showcases how results

from surveys could complement descriptive studies in the exploration of the impact of translated

texts in their target languages and cultures. Before expanding further on these points, I first present

an overview of the history of Bible translation into Igbo (2.0). I then highlight the concept of

semantic elaboration (3.0) and its ideological use as a tool for cultural subversion during

missionary Bible translation in Nigeria (4.0), before moving on to its implications in more

contemporary Nigeria (Igbo) translation contexts.



2. An Overview of Bible translation into Igbo

To date, there are eight translations of (portions of) the Bible into Igbo. The earliest of these were

Oku Omma nke Owu Matia: The Gospel according to St. Matthew (1860) and Ma Oru nke

Apostoli: The Acts of the Apostles, the Epistles of Paul to the Corinthians, Galatians, and

Ephesians (1866), published in the Isuama dialect of Igbo. The first translation of the complete

New Testament (NT), Agba Ofu nke Dinwenu-Ayi na Onye-Nzoputa-Ayi Jesu Kristi n’Asusu Ibo

(1900), was published in the Niger or Onitsha dialect. This was followed by Bible Nsọ: Union

Version (1913, the NT was published in 1908); Baịbụlụ Nsọ (1988), published by the International

Bible Society (IBS); Baịbụl Nsọ: Nhazi Katọlik (2000), by the Roman Catholic Church; Baibul

Nsọ: Ndezigharị Ọhụrụ (2007), published by the Bible League International; Baịbụl Nsọ: Nsụgharị

Ụwa Ọhụrụ nke Akwụkwọ Nsọ (2007), by the Watch Tower Bible and Tract Society; and Baịbụl

Ofufe-Nro na Ọmụmụihe nke Rhapsody of Realities: Ọgbụgbandụ Ọhụrụ by Christ Embassy

Church. For ease of reference, I use the following terms for the different Bible translations: Isuama

Igbo Bible for the translations of portions of the NT into Isuama Igbo (1860/66); Niger Igbo Bible

for the first complete NT, done in Niger or Onitsha Igbo (1900); Union Igbo Bible for Bible Nsọ:

Union Version (1913)3; Igbo Living Bible4 for Baịbụlụ Nsọ (1988); Igbo Catholic Bible for Baịbụl

Nsọ: Nhazi Katọlik (2000); Igbo Revised Edition5 for Baịbụl Nsọ: Ndezigharị Ọhụrụ (2007); Igbo

New World Translation6 for Baịbụl Nsọ: Nsụgharị Uwa Ọhụrụ nke Akwụkwọ Nsọ (2007); and

Igbo Rhapsody Bible for Baịbụl Ofufe-Nro na Ọmụmụihe nke Rhapsody of Realities: Ọgbụgbandụ

Ọhụrụ (2015). Table 1 summarizes salient aspects of the different Igbo Bible translations.

3 This translation is called “Union” because it is done into an amalgam, and thus artificial, dialect created from five

different dialects of Igbo. Igbo has many dialects some of which are not mutually intelligible. The Union dialect was

then created with the hope that it would be intelligible to every Igbo speaker. 4 The source text for this translation was the English Living Bible. The simplified language and verses of the Igbo

translation were also modelled on the English Living Bible 5 This translation is identified as Igbo Revised Edition on the copyright page of the publication. It is presented as a

revision of the Union Igbo Bible. 6 The Igbo translation was not only published by the same society that published the English New World Translation

of the Holy Scriptures, the English text was also used as the source text for producing the Igbo version



Table 1: Salient Aspects of Igbo Bible Translation

Bible

translation

Year Source Texts Dialect Bible Sections

Translated

Institutions

Isuama Igbo

Bible

1860/66 King James

Bible

Isuama Igbo Portions of the

New Testament

Anglican

Church

Niger Igbo

Bible

1900 King James

Bible

Niger

(Onitsha) Igbo

New Testament Anglican

Church

Union Igbo

Bible

1913 King James

Bible

Union Igbo Old and New

Testaments

Anglican

Church

Igbo Living

Bible

1988 The Living

Bible

Central Igbo Old and New

Testaments

Living Bible

International

Igbo Catholic

Bible

2000 Unspecified

(English-

based) Bible

Standard Igbo Old and New

Testaments

Catholic

Church

Igbo Revised

Edition

2007 King James

Bible


Testaments

Bible Society

of Nigeria

Igbo New

World

Translation

2007 New World

Translation

of the Holy

Scriptures


Testaments

Watch Tower

Bible and

Tracts

Society

Igbo

Rhapsody

Bible

2015 King James

Bible

Standard Igbo New Testament Christ

Embassy

Church

In Table 1, there is one translation of portions of the New Testament (Isuama Igbo Bible), two

complete translations of the New Testament (Niger Igbo Bible and Igbo Rhapsody Bible), and five

complete translations of the Old and New Testaments (Union Igbo Bible, Igbo Living Bible, Igbo

Catholic Bible, Igbo Revised Edition and Igbo New World Translation). This shows the sequence

in which the various books of the Bible were translated into Igbo, from portions of the New

Testament to the complete New Testament before the Old and New Testaments were done. The



New Testament of the Igbo Rhapsody Bible is the most recent translation, which indicates that the

translation of the Old Testament is still in progress.

Table 1 also presents the different institutions that produced the translations. The Isuama Igbo

Bible, Niger Igbo Bible and Union Igbo Bible were done or supervised by CMS missionaries from

Europe or other African countries while the subsequent translations were done by Igbo native

speakers with little or no supervision from without. Of the five translations done by Igbo native

speakers, two were by non-denominational or inter-denominational societies and three by specific

Christian denominations. Despite the different institutions of Bible translations and the periods of

publication, their representation of iko seems to be unanimous, as espoused shortly.

Table 1 further shows the different source texts from which the different translations were made.

Of the eight Igbo Bible translations, five were done from the King James Bible, one from the

Living Bible, one from the New World Translation of the Holy Scripture, and one from an

unspecified English Bible. The source texts of two of the translations – the Igbo Catholic Bible

and the Igbo Revised Edition are quite controversial and need further clarification here. According

to Ifenatuora (2000: vii), the Igbo Catholic Bible was made from several sources, namely Biblia

Hebraica Stutttgartensia (in Hebrew), Septuagint (in Greek), Vulgate (in Latin), the Revised

Standard Version (Catholic Edition) and the Jerusalem Bible (both in English). Interestingly,

Ezeogu (2012: 175), who participated in the translation project, reports that “translation from the

original languages had been ruled out from the outset, as this would make the project too time-

consuming and too expensive”. Secondly, some seminarians who participated in the translation

are said to “not have sufficient knowledge of Hebrew and Greek to work from the original Biblical

languages” (Ezeogu 2012: 176). Consequently, the present study holds that the translation was

probably done from the English based texts mentioned by Ifenatuora (2000), namely the Revised

Standard Version (Catholic Edition) and the Jerusalem Bible. Ifenatuora’s (2000) presentation of

Hebrew and Greek texts as part of the source texts might be a political move to improve the image

and reception of the translation for a translation said to be done from the original Biblical languages

would be perceived as being more authentic.

On the Igbo Revised Edition, although Otubelu (1983) and Ogharaerumi (1986) submit that this

translation was done from Hebrew and Greek source texts, Oyali (2018: 130) insists that this might



not be the case. For one, the translation is described as “Igbo Revised Edition” on the publication

details page of the Bible, which presupposes the existence of an earlier text on which the revision

is based. Secondly, Oyali (2018) demonstrates that the major difference between the Union Igbo

Bible and the Igbo Revised Edition is in the orthography used in both translations, i.e., while the

former was done in the Lepsius orthography7, the latter was done in the Onwu orthography8, which

is the current approved standard. In other words, this paper submits that the Igbo Revised Bible,

being a revision of the Union Igbo Bible, was translated from the King James Bible.

It is significant that all the Igbo Bible translations were done from English source texts and not

from the original Hebrew or Greek languages. As espoused in the next section, Bible translation

generally entails appropriating terms and concepts in the receiving language and culture to

represent Biblical concepts. In other words, translating the Bible into English entails using terms

and concepts in the English language and culture in the translation. Using English texts as source

texts for the Igbo translations then means that the Igbo versions were based on the indigenized

forms of the Biblical concepts in English which were necessarily the same as those used in the

original Biblical languages. For instance, as presented in Oyali (2018: 59), Biblical Greeks and

Romans would normally recline at table during meal. However, the King James Bible used “sit at

table” (see John 12: 2). The Igbo Bible translations using Igbo equivalents for “sit at table” in the

same passage shows their derivation from English source texts and not directly from Biblical

Hebrew or Greek. The focus of this study is on how an Igbo concept – that of iko – became re-

semanticized in Igbo during Bible translation. For this reason, the emphasis of inquiry is on the

Igbo concept of iko and the English concepts this term is used to represent in the English-Igbo

Bible translation. Thus, the study does not investigate the meanings of the said concepts in the

original Biblical languages as such discussions would not make any significant contribution to the

localized contexts of the discussion of English-Igbo translation in hand during this study.

7 This orthography was produced by Richard Lepsius (1863) at the instance of the CMS for use in the missions in

Africa. 8 This is the current Igbo standard orthography, produced in 1961 by an eleven-man committee headed by Dr S. E.

Onwu



3. Semantic elaboration in Bible translation

The concept of language elaboration was developed in the literature on language planning,

especially in discussions built around Haugen’s ([1966] 1972 and 1983) model. Haugen ([1966]

1972: 252) isolated “four aspects of language development […] as crucial features in taking the

step from ‘dialect’ to ‘language’, from ‘vernacular’ to ‘standard’”. Bamgbose (2004: 74-75)

summarizes the four stages in Haugen’s (1966) model thus:

1. selection of a norm (one of a number of competing languages, modification of an

existing language variety or creation of a new standard),

2. codification of form (establishing the selected norm by adopting an appropriate

script, devising an orthography and linguistic description),

3. elaboration of function (expanding the language to cope with use in wider domains,

particularly vocabulary expansion) and

4. acceptance by the community (stamp of authority on the selected norm by the

government).

Haugen (1983:273) defines elaboration as the “continued implementation of a norm to meet the

functions of a modern world”. By “implementation”, or acceptance in the original version, he

means “the activity of a writer, an institution, a government in adopting and attempting to spread

the language form that has been selected and codified”, and this activity includes “producing

books, pamphlets, newspapers, and textbooks in the language” (Haugen 1983: 272). So, language

elaboration involves steps taken to spread a (dialect of a) language that has already undergone

codification.

Semantic elaboration is the expansion of the meaning of a word when it is used in a new domain

(Oyali 2018). It is one of the processes of lexical expansion adopted as a result of the functional

elaboration of a language. An outcome of such functional elaboration is the discovery that the

language lacks functional equivalent terms (Nida 1964) for concepts in the new domain. To make

up for this lexical gap, new words are created in the language or existing words given new

meanings in the new domain. Nida’s (1964) concept of dynamic equivalence suggests several ways



Bible translators could represent strange Biblical concepts in a language by utilizing existing

resources in the language, thereby making for an effective indigenization of the Bible in the

language and culture. However, Nida’s (1964) dynamic equivalence gives the impression that the

new ideas introduced in the receiving language and culture had always been a part of the language

and culture (Pym 2010: 21). Pym’s (2010) concept of directional equivalence foregrounds the fact

that some new ideas have been introduced into the receiving language and culture during the

process of Bible translation, i.e., the use of existing terms in a language to represent strange

Biblical concepts effectively adds new meanings to the language and culture9. The present study

adopts only the concept of semantic elaboration to foreground the semantic changes that have

occurred on the Igbo concept of iko as a result of its use in Bible translation.

Semantic elaboration induced by Bible translation usually occurs when the Bible is translated for

the first time into a language, particularly a language with little or no written form. This was the

case with Igbo when the first Bible translations were carried out. According to Neil (1976:287),

[t]he essential strangeness of the Gospel must never be forgotten. When it comes for

the first time to a people, it opens up to them a whole new world, and introduces them

to concepts which are wholly new and for which no suitable expressions exist in the

language which they use.

In the case of Igbo, the speakers had a distinct system of religious beliefs and practices prior to

their encounter with Christianity (Oyali 2016). So, translating the Bible into Igbo entails using the

language to express ideas in the new religion (Christianity) that were strange and new to the Igbo

language and worldview. The translation process resulted in the expansion of the Igbo lexicon

through the creation of new terms or use of existing terms with new meanings. For example, to

represent the concept of kingdom in Igbo, the word alaeze was created during Bible translation by

combining ala “land” with eze “king”. Thus, alaeze literally means “the land of the king”. Also,

nsọ “sacred prohibitions” became semantically extended to also mean holy in the Bible

translations. In some cases, the new terms or meanings spread beyond their use in the Bible and

get integrated into the language. In other instances, they became restricted to Bible reading and

9 See Oyali (2018 and 2019 forthcoming) for a detailed exposé of Nida’s (1964) concept of dynamic equivalence

vis-à-vis Pym’s (2010) concept of directional equivalence, and how both concepts contribute to language

elaboration.



contexts of the church only. As the analysis below shows, the semantic elaboration of iko in the

Bible translations spread far beyond the Bible itself. However, beyond the semantic expansion of

iko, the analysis of the data gathered from the survey also shows that the use of iko during Bible

translation resulted in the subversion of the very concept in the Igbo culture itself. The next section

expatiates on cultural subversion during Bible translation, especially the translations carried out

by the missionaries.

4. Cultural subversion in missionary Bible translation

One of the challenges faced by Bible translators is how to negotiate Christian theology as espoused

in the Bible with the worldview of the receiving culture, especially where there are conflicts in

both worldviews. In such instances, Bible translation sometimes goes beyond being a means of

introducing the message of the Bible to the host communities to also being a site for interrogating

aspects of their cultural practices as well as imposing Judeo-Christian worldviews on them in order

to front the ideology of the Christian missionaries. In the words of Simon (2000:10),

[t]ranslations during the colonial period…were an expression of the cultural power of

the colonizer. Missionaries, anthropologists, learned Orientalists chose to translate the

texts which corresponded to the image of the subjugated world which they wished to

construct. Translations materialized modes of interpretation whose terms were rarely

questioned.

In other words, the decision to translate the Bible and not texts on economics or politics was

ideological as the Bible expresses an image of the world that the missionaries would want their

host communities to imbibe. Furthermore, the meanings given to terms in the Bible translations

tend to, over time, become the standard or generally accepted meanings of the terms.

Remarkably, there are instances where the receiving languages have existing functional equivalent

terms for some Christian concepts, but these were not used during Bible translation apparently to

avoid equating the referents, which are considered idolatrous, with their Christian counterparts.

For example, the Igbo dibịa was a functional equivalent for “priest” or “prophet”. Dibịa is defined

in Echeruo (1998:38) as “diviner or spiritualist; one who can intercede (through divination or

sacrifice) with the spirit world on behalf of clients; fortune-teller”. Of the eight translations of the



Bible into Igbo, only the Isuama Igbo Bible (1860/66) used dibịa for “priest”. All the subsequent

translations replaced dibịa with other terms. None of the translations used dibịa for “prophet”.

This non-use of dibịa in the translations for equivalent Christian concepts lexically distinguished

Christian prophets and priests from their Igbo counterparts. Secondly, as more Igbo people convert

to Christianity, the terms for non-Christian priests and prophets become demonized as they then

became associated with idol worship.

Beyond subverting concepts in the receiving culture, albeit subtly, by lexically differentiating them

from their Christian counterparts and demonizing them, the Bible translations also sometimes re-

define the meanings of some existing terms and concepts in the receiving languages by using them

to represent negative concepts in the Bible. For example, in the Union Shona Bible, the word

“drunkard” is translated as kana anosinwa doro “someone who drinks beer”. An outcome of this

usage is that “some Shona readers of the Bible today…think that being intoxicated by wine is not

against the Christian teaching since the Bible (1 Corinthians 5:11) forbids beer (doro) not wine

consumption” (Togarasei 2009:27). In other words, doro has acquired a pejorative connotation as

a result of the context in which it is used in the Bible. Another example from the Union Shona

Bible is the translation of “banqueting” in 1 Peter 4:3 as mabira, a term that refers to “all Shona

rituals to appease ancestors” (Togarasei 2009:31, fn.2). Ancestral veneration is central in Shona

cosmology and mabira are meant for specific purposes like “asking for rainfall (mukwerekwere),

giving a name (kagadza rita), bringing home the spirit of the dead (kurova guva)” among many

other ceremonies (Togarasei 2009:32). Mabira are “associated with beer drinking, meat eating and

general feasting. It was the occasion when members of the extended family and indeed the whole

tribe came together. Therefore, participation in mabira gave one a sense of belonging and indeed

identity” (Togarasei 2009:33). Listing mabira as one of the vices that should be shunned in 1 Peter

4:3 demonizes all Shona ceremonies associated with mabira such that many Shona Christian

faithful see participation in mabira as participation in idol worship (Togarasei 2009:35). A similar

re-definition of an existing cultural concept is done in the use of iko in Igbo Bible translation. The

next section presents the practices associated with iko in Igbo cultural practices. These practices

predate the Bible translations and thus show the uses of the term prior to the Bible translations.



5. Iko in Igbo cultural practices

The word iko is defined in Echeruo (1998:70) as:

1a friend, usually of the opposite sex, with whom one has a romantic relationship,

usually outside marriage; mistress; concubine; 2(in the Ngwa area) a person extending

sexual privileges to a partner outside marriage; a man chosen by a spinster to father

her children; a sex-mate.

Here, Echeruo (1998) provides two broad meanings of the word iko. The first is general and not

restricted to any given domain. On the contrary, the second defines the word within specific Igbo

cultural practices or institutions. As espoused shortly, the general meaning was apparently an

extension of the meaning within the institutions. Focus here then is on the use of iko in these

cultural practices.

One of the cultural practices is the institution of iko mbara practiced in many Igbo communities,

e.g., Ngwa, Aguku, Awka, Owerri, among others (Uchendu 1965). In Nsugbe, this institution is

called agịrị. It is an institution that permits a married person, male or female, to have a paramour.

It is such that the spouse not only knows about the paramour but also gives their consent to the

union, which makes it not a clandestine union. As Uchendu (1965:190) puts it, “iko is a generic

term for a paramour, and mbara may be rendered as ‘public, not clandestine’”.

The closest functional equivalent of iko mbara in English is “concubine”. However, there are some

differences between concubine and iko. The Cambridge Dictionary defines concubine as “a

woman who, in some societies, lives and has sex with a man she is not married to, and has a lower

social rank than his wife or wives”. From this definition, only men can have concubines and only

women can be concubines. On the contrary, in the Igbo culture, both men and women can have

iko and both men and women can be iko.

One of the functions of the iko mbara institution is purely for sexual pleasure. The institution

provides an accepted avenue for sexual satisfaction for widows and widowers. A man who does

not satisfy his wife sexually might be pressurized to approve of her having an iko mbara. Among

the Ngwa, it is believed that unfaithfulness in a wife, here defined as clandestine extra-marital sex,

brings sickness or misfortune to her husband (Uchendu 1965:190). To avoid such ill fortunes, the



husband approves of her having a paramour. Besides, many Igbo societies enforce a long period

of post-partum taboo whereby a man does not have sex with his wife for a very long period after

child-birth. Having an iko mbara then provides a solution to the man’s sexual desires (Uchendu

1965:193). That notwithstanding, there are instances where the spouse(s) do not approve of an iko

mbara and the union is not established. Uchendu (1965) reports the case of a man who had three

wives out of which two were bearing children. When the man asked for permission to have an iko

mbara, the wives resisted it because he could not claim sexual starvation as the reason for wanting

the union. The argument was that he always had one of the wives available to satisfy his sexual

needs.

The other Igbo cultural practice alluded to in Echeruo’s definition of iko above relates to the Igbo

idea of fatherhood. Among the Igbo, a man does not claim a child as his just because he got the

mother of the child pregnant. A man can only claim a child as his when he has paid the bridal

wealth of the child’s mother. If nobody has paid the bridal wealth, the child then belongs to the

girl’s father. Hence the idea of a “legal” and a “biological” father (Oyali 2007). The legal father is

the one who has paid the bridal wealth while the biological father is the one who gets the child’s

mother pregnant. Among the Igbo, the legal father is not necessarily the biological father.

Besides, Igbo society is largely patrilineal. So, there is a lot of emphasis on having a male child

who would perpetuate the man’s lineage. Consequently, a man who is unable to get his wife

pregnant might agree that she have an iko who could then get her pregnant. The child that results

from this union belongs to the husband of the woman and not the iko. This way the man’s lineage

is sustained. A man with only female children might also have one of his daughters stay unmarried

and, through an iko, produce male children for him in order to preserve his lineage.

Furthermore, women generally do not have property inheritance rights among the Igbo. So, having

a male child is the assurance the woman has that, at least, her son(s) have a share in their father’s

property. This is worse in a polygamous home if a woman’s co-wives have sons and the woman

does not. In such instances, the woman might go as far as paying the bridal wealth of a younger

lady who would have sons for her through her husband or through an iko.

In sum, the iko institution offers sexual and economic benefits, according to localized Igbo cultural

practice. For many members of the community, this practice helps to sustain a man’s lineage as



well as creating a social space in which both men and women can seek sexual satisfaction. In these

contexts, iko is not understood as a clandestine union but rather one that is accepted and regulated

by the society in which it emerges.

6. The appropriation of Iko in Igbo Bible translation

According to Echeruo (1999), the missionaries frowned upon the iko institution and only supported

sexual activities within a monogamous marriage framework. Any union outside this framework

was perceived by these missionaries as being sinful. This negative attitude towards the iko

institution thus seemed to inform its use to represent illicit sexual practices in the Igbo Bible

translations, examples of which are listed in Table 2.

Table 2: Concepts Represented with Iko in Igbo Bible Translation

Concepts Representation Meaning Bible translations

Concubine Iko nwaanyị Female iko All the translations

Adultery Ịkwa iko Engaging in iko All the translations

Fornication Ịkwa iko Engaging in iko All the translations

Prostitute Ndị inyom nke na-akwa iko Women who engage in iko Union Igbo Bible

From Table 2, iko is used in the Bible translations to represent negative concepts of illicit sexual

relations, namely concubine, adultery, fornication and prostitute. As mentioned above, the closest

functional equivalent term in English for iko is concubine. However, iko is slightly different from

concubine in that only woman could be concubines and only men can have concubines. In Igbo

cultural settings, however men and women could be and have iko. Consequently, the term iko

nwaanyị “female iko” clarifies that the referent is female and not male. All the same, the use of iko

for concubine in the Bible is an instance of register extension, i.e., using a term that belongs to a

given register to represent a concept in another register (Tamanji 2004:85). Iko was used for Igbo

cultural practices until Bible translation extended the use to Christian contexts. So, the use in the

Bible expands the domains in which the term is used.



Unlike the use of iko for concubine, its use to represent adultery, fornication and prostitute entails

two other forms of elaboration. Firstly, it involves a semantic extension of iko to embrace these

concepts. The Cambridge Dictionary defines adultery as “sex between a married man or woman

and someone he or she is not married to”. In Echeruo (1998:180), adultery is defined as ügwa10

(spelt ụgwa in Standard Igbo). Ụgwa is defined as “sexual relations with the wife of a relative”

(Echeruo 1998:164). This definition relates to adultery that involves a married woman and her

husband’s relative. It does not cover all forms of adultery, e.g., between persons who are not related

by marriage. Therefore, the use of iko for adultery in the Bible expands the meaning of iko to

embrace all forms of adultery. The Cambridge Dictionary also defines fornication as “the action

of having sex with someone who you are not married to”. This definition presents a range of sexual

activities beyond the range covered by iko in Igbo cultural practices. In other words, sex within

the iko institution is regulated by societal norms, whereas fornication is open-ended and seen as

contravening social norms. As such, the use of iko for fornication in the Bible also entails

expanding the meaning of the term to cover every form of sexual activity between persons who

are not married to each other. This is in contrast to its usage in Igbo cultural practices for a specific

range of sexual activities. Lastly, the Cambridge Dictionary defines prostitute as “a person who

has sex with someone for money”. Again, the iko union is not necessarily contracted for financial

gains. So, the use of iko in the Bible entails the semantic extension of iko to cover a person who

provides sex in exchange for money.

The other form of elaboration resulting from the use of iko in the Bible is semantic pejoration,

whereby a term that had a positive meaning is given a negative one. The concepts of concubine,

adultery, fornication and prostitute are frowned upon in the Christian religion and considered

sinful. Thus, with the widespread conversion of Igbo people to Christianity especially at the turn

of the 19th century AD, Igbo speakers are increasingly exposed to the re-semanticization of iko in

the Bible. For instance, while Uchendu (1965:192) reports that Ngwa women “confess to being

more indulgent to their iko than their husbands”, expressed in the saying ụtọ ka n’iko “there is

more fun with the iko”, the Bible in Exodus 20 expressly gives the command: gị akwala iko “do

not engage in iko (do not commit adultery)”. Over time, through Bible reading and evangelism,

10 Echeruo (1998) uses what he calls the New Standard Orthography (NSO), which uses c, ö, ü, and ї for Standard

Igbo ch, ọ, ụ and ị respectively. Thus, in this study, instances where the NSO spelling is different from Standard

Igbo are glossed with the Standard Igbo spelling.



the concept of iko becomes unpopular among the Igbo. In fact, iko becomes associated more with

the concepts it is used to represent in the Bible than with its original meaning. Consequently, rather

than perceive iko as referring to institutions accepted by the society in its localized settings, more

Igbo speakers now see it as embodying attributes that should be avoided if one is to be a good

Christian. Put simply, iko has acquired negative associations as a result of the meanings it has been

given in the Bible, the implications of which are far-reaching.

7. A survey of Igbo terms for concubine

As one way of exploring the impact of these first Igbo Bible translations, I explored a little further

whether Igbo speakers associate the term iko with concubinage, the closest equivalent to its

meaning in Igbo cultural practices, or not. I present here findings from a survey11 that asked, among

other things, for Igbo terms for concubine (see Appendix). 186 Igbo native speakers at Nsukka in

Enugu State took part in this survey. I chose to carry out this survey in Nsukka in particular as

Enugu, where Nsukka is located, is one of the states where Igbo is the sole native language spoken

(see Figure 1), which means that Nsukka is in the heart of Igboland. My criteria for selecting the

respondents relate to their status as native speakers of Igbo, that is, a) their parents were Igbo, b)

they themselves could speak, read and write in Igbo.

Of the 186 respondents, 111 (60%) were women while 75 (40%) were men. Although there were

more female participants in the survey than male participants, the difference between the number

of members of both sexes does not thwart the result from the survey. Rather, this study took into

consideration other constitutions of the participants, which were generational and educational in

scope. The survey thus examines the impact of age on the data supplied. As the nature of the

questionnaire requires some level of literacy in Igbo and English, the questionnaire was

administered to respondents with at least a post-secondary education. The minimum age of the

respondents was 16 because that is the minimum age at which a person can officially start post-

secondary education in Nigeria. Of the 186 respondents, 96 were within ages 16-25, 53 within 26-

35, 25 within 36-45, and 12 above 45. These statistics show that the findings from the survey

reflect a range of perceptions from both sexes and from perspectives of different age groups.

11 The survey was conducted as part of a bigger project (see Oyali 2018) and was aimed at exploring the spread of

some lexical and conceptual innovations occasioned by Bible translation into Igbo. The present study focuses only

on data supplied for the concept of concubine.



Although the respondents who were above 45 were few, the richness of their responses added

interesting qualitative dimensions to the data, as will be discussed further.

Regarding their religions, 184 of the respondents said that they were Christian, one claimed to be

an adherent of Judaism and one did not specify his religion. This suggests that their response must

have been influenced by their identification with the Christian religion. What is more, these

Christian respondents represent different denominations: 79 Catholic, 62 Pentecostal, 32 Anglican,

3 Presbyterian, 3 Jehovah’s Witnesses, 1 Greek Orthodox, 1 Methodist, 1 Evangelical Church of

West Africa, 1 Latter-Day Saints and 1 unspecified Other.

I also asked for the highest level at which the respondents learnt or studied Igbo in a formal setting.

104 respondents (56%) studied Igbo at the secondary school level, 49 (26%) at the post-secondary

school level, 16 (9%) never studied Igbo in a formal setting, 11 (6%) at the primary school level

and 6 (3%) did not provide any response to the question. This suggests that their use of Igbo must

have been greatly influenced by Standard Igbo, which is taught and spread through the educational

institutions. The first attempts at creating a literary standard variety of Igbo moreover was carried

out by Christian missionaries through Bible translation and the current Standard Igbo, in a way,

was derived from the dialects used in the Bible translations (Oyali 2018). In other words, the

respondents were not only Christian who had been exposed to the language of the Bible but were

also taught Standard Igbo which in itself had been greatly influenced by the language of the Bible.

The respondents were asked what kinds of texts they read in Igbo. Figure 2 presents their

responses.



Figure 2: Written Materials Read in Igbo

From Figure 2, academic texts top the list with 51 tokens, followed by the Bible (48 tokens) and

fiction (37 tokens). This further supports the earlier statement that the respondents have been

exposed to Standard Igbo, this time through academic texts and fiction. They have also been

exposed to the Igbo in the Bible. Put simply, the Igbo spoken by the respondents would be

influenced by the school system and the church. Interestingly, apart from those who stated that

they read academic texts, fiction and the Bible alone, almost all the remaining respondents reported

that they read a combination of these with other materials, which gives some indication of the key

place and high status of these three materials in their lives and linguistic usages.

51

48

37

11

6 6 5 4 3 3 3 2 2 1 1 1 1 1

0

10

20

30

40

50

60



In the questionnaire, the respondents were asked to supply at least two Igbo terms for concubine,

each term accorded equal value irrespective of whether it was mentioned first or second. Table 3

presents the terms supplied by the respondents. Only terms supplied by more than one person are

presented.

Table 3: Igbo Terms for Concubine Supplied by the Respondents

Terms for concubine Meaning Tokens

Enyi nwaanyị Female friend/lover 48

Iko Paramour 21

Enyi Friend/lover 8

Nwunye di Co-wife 6

Ọyị Friend/lover 6

Inyom Woman 6

Ọyị di Husband’s lover 5

Agịrị Paramour 3

Akwụna Prostitute 3

Nwa ụlọ Bastard 3

Ashawo Prostitute 2

Nwaanyị anụghị anụ A woman who is not married 2

Nwaanyị ọyị Female lover 2

Ndị inyom Women 2

Nwaanyị iko A woman who is a paramour 2

From Table 3, the term with the highest number of tokens is enyi nwaanyị with 48 tokens (26%)

followed by iko with 21 tokens (11%). Enyi nwaanyị is a compound term formed from enyi “friend

or lover” and nwaanyị “woman or female”, thereby meaning “female lover”. It is the popular Igbo

term for girlfriend. This suggests that the word “concubine” is associated with girlfriend than with

an institutionalized union between a married man and a woman he is not married to. Enyi nwaanyị

is not used in the Bible translations for concubine, which also suggests that the use of iko nwaanyị

in the Bible for concubine apparently did not spread beyond the Bible.



The age range of the respondents who supplied enyi nwaanyị and iko for concubine (Figure 7.14)

shows some interesting dynamics.

Figure 3: Age Range of Respondents who Supplied Enyi Nwaanyị and Iko

Figure 3 shows that, on the one hand, 30 of the respondents who supplied enyi nwaanyị were within

16-25 years, 12 within 26-35 years, and 6 within 35-45 years. No respondents over 45 years

supplied enyi nwaanyị as the Igbo word for concubine. However, 8 of the respondents who

supplied iko were within 16-25 years, 4 within 26-35, 5 within 36-45, and 4 above 45. Table 4

presents these figures in percentages in relation to the total number of respondents in each age

range.

Table 4: Percentage of Enyi Nwaanyị and Iko according to Age Range

Age

Range

Total Respondents

by Age Range

Number that

Supplied Enyi

Nwaanyị

% Number that

Supplied Iko

%

16-25 96 30 31% 8 8%

26-35 53 12 23% 4 8%

36-45 25 6 24% 5 20%

46+ 12 0 0% 4 33%



Table 4 shows that enyi nwaanyị was supplied by 31% of respondents within the 16-25 years age

range while iko was supplied by only 8% of respondents in this age range. 12% of respondents

within the 26-35 age bracket supplied enyi nwaanyị while only 8% of the same population supplied

iko. There is not much difference between the population of respondents within 36-45 who

supplied enyi nwaanyị and those who supplied iko. Conversely, for respondents aged above 45,

0% supplied enyi nwaanyị while 33% supplied iko. In other words, the older the respondents, the

more likely that they would use iko and not enyi nwaanyị for concubine. On the contrary, the

younger the respondents, the more likely that they would use enyi nwaanyị and not iko for

concubine. This pattern is significant because it shows the conceptualization of concubine

emerging differently along generational lines. The younger generation of Igbo speakers thus

seemed to understand concubinage as a form of “girlfriendship”. It is not incidental that no

respondent above 45 supplied enyi nwaanyị. It is rather an indication that this generation of Igbo

speakers understands that a concubine is not just a girlfriend or a woman who has sex with a man,

but a woman in a formal union regulated by the society in which it is practiced. The terms supplied

by respondents who are above 45 are agịrị “paramour” (2 tokens), iko “paramour” (4 tokens), and

nwunye di “co-wife” (literally “husband’s wife”, 2 tokens). The first two terms – agịrị and iko –

are the terms for the practice of concubinage among Igbo people. The third term refers to a co-

wife in a polygamous marriage. This is significant because it suggests the gradual loss of the

meaning of iko among members of the younger generation. It is remarkable that very few

respondents within the 16-25 and 26-35 age ranges supplied iko, despite the fact that it is the key

word in the compound iko nwaanyị used in the Bible translations for concubine. The implication

of this is that the use of iko nwaanyị in the Bible for concubine is apparently restricted to Bible

readings and thus, from these findings, not used by these participants beyond that. Secondly, it

suggests the dwindling understanding of iko as referring to concubinage, especially with the use

of the term in the Bible to refer to “all sexual relationships outside the framework of a monogamous

marriage – polygamy, adultery, fornication, prostitution, and rape” (Echeruo 1999:296).

What is more, the practice of iko mbara is apparently dwindling within Igbo communities as more

Igbo people have over time converted to Christianity and so perceive it as a sinful practice. Thus,

on the one hand, the pejorative meaning given to iko in its use in the Igbo Bible translations in

representations of not only concubine but also fornication, adultery and prostitute could be read as

influencing the people’s perception of the practice of iko mbara. On the other hand, the use of the



word iko for these four concepts all of which have to do with sexual relationships outside marriage

has changed the meaning of the word from a paramour within some regulated contexts to any form

of sexual relationship outside marriage.

8. Reflection and conclusion

According to Simon (2000:11), translations are a veritable “site for investigating intercultural

contact” as they would seem to be “the impressionable surface which preserves the intricate

tracings of contact”. She also adds that in post/colonial settings, translations “report on areas of

interchange between colonizer and colonized; they also reveal the nature of the interaction”. In

other words, translations between languages are a form of language contact and a study of these

translations would reveal the forms of the impact the cultures in contact have on each other.

Incidentally, most linguistic studies of the contact between English and Igbo, for example, tend to

focus on the impact of Igbo on English and the emergence of Igbo English (e.g., Igboanusi 2002).

Very little attention has been paid to the impact of English on Igbo, especially as reflected in

translations from English into Igbo. This study contributes towards filling this gap in research in

translations in Nigeria, in particular in the case of translations carried out by the missionaries from

their language of power (in this case study, English) into the local languages – and communities –

in which they proselytized their faith and ideologies (in this case, Igbo).

This study is then a step towards investigating the nature of one of the many changes Bible

translation during colonial times has made to Igbo language and culture. The analysis above has

shown that, prior to its use in the Igbo Bible, iko referred to a sexual union between persons who

are not married to each other, regulated within its localized contexts. The union is thus recognized

and regulated by the society in which the practice emerged. It is not clandestine and did not, before

the arrival of Christian missionaries, have negative associations. Its use in the Bible therefore

entails three forms of semantic elaboration. First, the range of registers in which it is used has been

extended, i.e., from Igbo cultural practices to the new (Christian) religious domain. Second, its

meaning has been extended beyond referring to the sexual union regulated by the Igbo society to

any form of sex outside a monogamous marriage framework. Third, its use to designate negative

concepts has affected its erstwhile more positive perception as a “practical” way of regulating

sexual satisfaction and localized norms of patrilineal birth lines. The concept has become



reconfigured, and thus perceived as a negative concept. These semantic changes on the concept of

iko have spread into Igbo to the extent of “official” inclusion in Igbo dictionary entries for iko –

as seen in Echeruo’s (1998) definition presented above. In other words, the ideological move of

the Christian missionaries in re-defining iko during Bible translation has not only changed the

meaning of the word but also engendered its spread within Igbo language fields of knowledge.

At this point, it is pertinent to acknowledge the impact of writing on this phenomenon of change.

Igbo was largely an oral language prior to the arrival of the missionaries on Igbo soil. Bible

translation was one of the earliest activities that necessitated the creation of a written form for the

language. This historical juncture is significant because writing preserves the communicated idea

in more static formats – e.g. in books – in ways different to oral communication whose preservation

relies on temporal contexts of collective or individual memories of its articulation. Writing thus

gives more “static” permanence to the information transmitted. In relation to the concept of iko,

the meaning of the term in Igbo cultural practices is largely restricted to parts of Igboland that have

the institution. However, Bible translation makes the use in the Bible accessible to all parts of

Igboland. In effect, children born into Christian homes and exposed to Christianity – who are in

the majority – would, on the one hand, be exposed to the meaning of the term in the Igbo Bible,

and, on the other hand, perceive the cultural practices as being against their religion. An indication

of the reality and impact of the written forms of the meanings of iko in the missionary translations

is how subsequent Bible translations carried out by Igbo native speakers retain the ideological use

of iko as first carried out by the first missionaries. The meaning of iko in Igbo cultural practices is

however transmitted largely orally and mainly within communities where this institution is

practiced.

Methodologically, this study has demonstrated how questionnaire survey of localized groups of

participants can be used to complement descriptive linguistic analysis in studies of the impact of

translation on the receiving language and culture in specific localized ideological contexts. The

survey done in this study presents an indication of how the semantic elaboration and subversion

of the concept of iko during Bible translation has spread among Igbo speakers. It also shows a

gradual shift in perceptions of iko along generational lines.



In conclusion, this study brings to the fore the impact of Bible translation by the missionaries on

the Igbo language and culture. The study highlights the historical context of Bible translation in

Nigeria and how the conflicting Christian and Igbo worldviews on matters of sex were negotiated

by the early Christian missionaries and later sustained by native Igbo Christians through further

Bible translations. The re-semanticization of iko by the Christian missionaries reflects the attitude

of the missionaries towards cultural practices in their host communities which they perceived as

conflicting with their Christian beliefs. This study thus demonstrates the power dynamics between

the missionaries and their converts to Christianity. The missionaries’ bid to dissuade their converts

from the Igbo institution of iko resulted in their redefining the concept during Bible translation.

Over time, this ideological re-semanticization of an Igbo cultural concept within a specific

religious (Christian) context spread into the Igbo language beyond its limited Christian beginnings.

Today, the new meanings given to the concept of iko has not only gained wide acceptance among

Igbo speakers as well as dictionary entries, they have also affected the attitude of the Igbo towards

their age-long institution for maintaining patrilineal birth lines and regulating sexual satisfaction.

References

Bamgbose, Ayo (2004) ‘Language planning and language policies: Issues and prospects’, in P.

V. Sterkenburg (ed.) Linguistics Today: Facing a Greater Challenge, Amsterdam: John

Benjamins, 61-88.

Echeruo, Michael J. C. (1998) Igbo-English Dictionary: A Comprehensive Dictionary of the Igbo

Language, with an English-Igbo Index, New Haven: Yale University Press.

Echeruo, Michael J. C. (1999) ‘The natural history of Igbo concubinage: IKO, ÖYЇ, and ENYI, in

Paul F. A. Kotey (ed.) New Dimensions in African Linguistics and Languages, Trenton,

NJ: Africa World Press, 289-299.

Esposito, Don (2015) Hebraic Roots Bible: With study notes (3rd ed.). Jerusalem: Congregation

of YHWH.

Ezeogu, Ernest M. (2012) ‘The politics of Bible translation in Africa: The case of the Igbo

Catholic Bible’, in Musa W. Dube, Andrew M. Mbuvi, & Dora Mbuwayesango (eds.),

Postcolonial Perspectives in African Biblical Interpretations. Atlanta: Society of Biblical

Literature, 171-183.



Haugen, Einar ([1966]1972) ‘Dialect, language, nation’, in Einar Haugen (ed.), The Ecology of

Language: Essays by Einar Haugen, Stanford: Stanford University Press, 237-254.

Haugen, Einar (1983) ‘The implementation of corpus planning: Theory and practice’, in J.

Cobarrubias & J. A. Fishman (eds), Progress in Language Planning: International

Perspectives, Berlin: Mouton, 269-289.

Ifenatuora, Christopher A. (2000) ‘Baịbụl: Akwụkwọ Chineke na mmadụ dere dịka ndị Katọlịk

sịrị hụ ya’, in Baịbụl Nsọ: Nhazi Katọlịk. Ibadan, Nigeria: St. Paul Publications, vi-vii.

Igboanusi, Herbert (2002) Igbo English in the Nigerian novel. Ibadan: Enicrownfit.

Neil, Stephen (1976) ‘Translating the word of God’, The Churchman, 90(4): 285-288.

Nida, Eugene A. (1964) Toward a Science of Translating: With Special Reference to Principles

and Procedures Involved in Bible Translation. Leiden: E. J. Brill.

Ogharaerumi, M. O. (1986) The Translation of the Bible into Yoruba, Igbo and Isekiri

Languages of Nigeria, with Special Reference to the Contributions of Mother-tongue

Speakers. Doctoral Thesis, University of Aberdeen.

Otubelu, Gideon Nweke (1983) New Igbo Translation of the New Testament, Agba Ọhụụ.

Address presented at the 5th Synod of the Anglican Diocese of Enugu in St. Mary's

Church, Enugu Ngwoo. July 5.

Oyali, Uchenna (2007) ‘What is in a name? Chukwuemeka Ike’s use of names for character

delineation in Conspiracy of silence’, ZAJOLA: Zaria Journal of Liberal Arts, 1(1): 177-

187.

Oyali, Uchenna (2016) ‘A two-headed pagan god in the Christian holy of holies: The strategy

and technique of creating the Igbo equivalent of the Christian God’, in Justyna Giczela-

Pastwa and Uchenna Oyali (eds) Norm-focused and Culture-related Inquiries in

Translation Research, Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 157-179.

Oyali, Uchenna (2018) Bible Translation and Language Elaboration: The Igbo Experience.

Doctoral Thesis, Universität Bayreuth.

Oyali, Uchenna (2019 forthcoming) ‘Bible translation and the reconceptualization of the

universe: Negotiating the Christian and traditional Igbo conceptualizations of life after

death’, in Ali Almanna and Juan Jose Martinez Sierra (eds) Reframing Realities through

Translation, Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang.

Pym, A. (2010a) Exploring Translation Theories. Abingdon: Routledge.



Lepsius, Richard C. (1863) Standard Alphabet for Reducing Unwritten Languages and Foreign

Graphic Systems to Uniform Orthography in European Letters (2nd ed.), London:

Wlttajams & Norgate, Henrietta Street, Covent Garden.

Simon, Sherry (2000) ‘Introduction’, in Sherry Simon and Paul St-Pierre (eds) Changing the

Terms: Translating in the Postcolonial Era, Ottawa: University of Ottawa Press, 9-29.

Tamanji, Pius N. (2004) ‘Indirect borrowing: A source of lexical expansion’, in George Echu

and Samuel Gyasi Obeng (eds) Africa Meets Europe: Language Contact in West Africa,

New York: Nova Science, 75-88.

Togarasei, Lovemore (2009) The Bible in Context: Essay Collection, Bamberg: University of

Bamberg Press.

Uchendu, Victor Chikezie (1965) ‘Concubinage among Ngwa-Igbo of Southern Nigeria’, Africa:

Journal of the International African Institute, 35(2): 187-197.



Appendix: Questionnaire

Hello,

Many thanks for taking out time to fill out this questionnaire. The project is part of my on-going

doctoral research at the Bayreuth International Graduate School of African Studies, University of

Bayreuth on Bible translations and language elaboration. Findings from this survey would be

treated with the utmost confidentiality it deserves.

QUESTIONNAIRE

Tick the option that best describes you and, where required, provide precise answers to the

questions.

A. Personal profile

1. State of Origin: ⧠ Abia

⧠ Anambra

⧠ Delta

⧠ Ebonyi

⧠ Enugu

⧠ Imo

⧠ Rivers

2. Local Government Area: _________________

3. Town/village/city: _______________________

4. Age range: ⧠ 16-25

⧠ 26-35

⧠ 35-45 ⧠

⧠ 46+



5. Sex: ⧠ Female

⧠ Male

6. Profession: ⧠ Student

⧠ Unemployed

⧠ Civil servant

⧠ Academic

⧠ Farmer

⧠ Business man/woman

⧠ Other __________

B. Religion

1. Your religion: ⧠ Traditional Igbo

⧠ Christianity

⧠ Islam

⧠ Atheist/agnostic

⧠ Others ________________

2. If Christian, which denomination?

⧠ Catholic

⧠ Anglican

⧠ Jehovah’s Witnesses

⧠ Pentecostal

⧠ Others (please specify)

3. You attend church services/mass/ meetings in

⧠ English

⧠ Igbo

⧠ English and Igbo

⧠ Others (specify)

C. Proficiency in Igbo

1. At what level did you stop formally learning/studying Igbo?

⧠ I never learnt/studied Igbo



⧠ Primary

⧠ Secondary

⧠ Post-secondary

2. How well can you read in Igbo?

⧠ I cannot read in Igbo

⧠ Below average

⧠ Average

⧠ Above average

⧠Very well

3. What do you read often in Igbo?

⧠ Facebook posts

⧠ Bible

⧠ Other religious texts (specify) ______________

⧠ Fiction

⧠ Academic set texts

⧠ Others (specify)

D. How are the following called in Igbo? Feel free to provide more than one response

1. A piece of material, especially cloth, that hangs across a window or opening to make a room or

part of a room dark or private

i. ____________________________

ii. ____________________________

2. The person that inherits a property or position, like a throne, from another person when the

second person dies

i. ____________________________

ii. ____________________________

3. The person that sees some event happen, for instance, a crime or an accident and is called to

testify

i. ____________________________

ii. ____________________________



4. A strong belief in the doctrines of a religion, based on spiritual conviction

i. ___________________________

ii. ___________________________

5. A short, simple story that teaches or explains an idea, especially a moral or religious idea, like

those told by Jesus Christ in the Bible

i. ___________________________

ii. ___________________________

6. The act of making something new

i. ___________________________

ii. ___________________________

7. An unusual and logically unexplainable happening that is thought to have been caused by God

because it does not follow the usual laws of nature

i. __________________________

ii. _________________________

8. A follower or pupil of a teacher, leader, or philosopher

i. ___________________________

ii. ___________________________

9. A building devoted to the worship of a sacred or holy being

i. __________________________

ii. __________________________

10. A person who has never had sex before

i. ____________________________

ii. ____________________________

11. A person who has special powers to tell people about things that will happen in the future

i. ____________________________

ii. ____________________________

12. A building for Christian religious activities:

i. ___________________________

ii. ___________________________



13. A table or flat-topped block used for making offerings or sacrifices to a deity

i. __________________________

ii. ___________________________

14. (In Christian and Jewish belief) the supreme spirit of evil

i. ___________________________

ii. __________________________

15. The place where sinners are sent after death to be punished forever

i. __________________________

ii. __________________________

16. A tenth of a person’s income given to the Church

i. ___________________________

ii. ___________________________

17. The spiritual part of a person that continues to exist in some form even after their body has died

i. ____________________________

ii. ____________________________

18. A Christian ceremony in which a person has water sprinkled on their head, or is immersed into a

pool of water

i. ____________________________

ii. ____________________________

19. The place good people go to after death to be rewarded for their good deeds

i. __________________________

ii. __________________________

20. The day of the week God rested after creation

i. __________________________

ii. __________________________

E. What are the Igbo word(s) for the following? Also feel free to provide more than one

response

English Igbo Other Igbo words Context of usage

1. Beast

2. Kingdom



3. Witness

4. Parables

5. Conversion

6. Saint

7. Angel

8. Apostle

9. Eternity

10. Sacred

11. Messiah

12. Sacrilege

13. Creation

14. Church

15. Baptism

16. Taboo

17. Harlot

18. Gospel

19. Priest

20. Demon

21. Holiness

22. Concubine

23. Sabbath

24. Scripture

25. Altar

26. Temple

27. Salvation

28. Snow

29. Synagogue

30. Righteousness

31. Wilderness

32. Prophet



33. Unclean spirit

34. Summer and winter

35. Christianity

36. Religion

37. Repentance

38. Gentile

39. Confession


Michael Richardson, Negotiating Power and Translation in a Bilingual (British Sign Language/English)

Rehearsal Room, 163-184 163

Negotiating Power and Translation in a Bilingual

(British Sign Language/English) Rehearsal Room

Michael Richardson

Heriot-Watt University, UNITED KINGDOM

[email protected]

ABSTRACT

Deaf people are typically encouraged to participate in theatre through the medium of sign

language interpreted performances, translation events that the majority of deaf spectators

do not consider effective in providing accessibility. This article draws on doctoral

research that interrogates theatre-making techniques that might provide equality of

participation in performances for deaf and hearing people. Drawing on Participatory

Action Research and Applied Theatre methodologies, deaf and hearing actors create

bilingual (British Sign Language and English) performances without pre-existing source

texts, a process that is dependent both on the translation strategies employed within it,

and on the societal conditions of deaf-hearing inequality. A socio-analysis of the power

dynamics within two examples of practice is facilitated by conceptualising deaf and

hearing as Bourdieusian fields. The analysis suggests that, whilst it is possible to over-

ride the impact of hierarchies within such a translation event, more typically societal

inequalities that impact negatively on translation processes are maintained.

Keywords: Deaf; Bourdieu; Freire; Applied Theatre; Translation; Interpreting

1. Introduction

The prevailing translation paradigm intended to provide access for deaf 1 people at

mainstream (spoken language) theatre performances is the sign language interpreted

performance (SLIP). This involves the simultaneous translation of spoken dialogue into

British Sign Language (Rocks 2015), typically (in the UK) by a single sign language

interpreter positioned in the far downstage corner (Gebron 2000). Such performances

represent translation events of significant complexity for theatre interpreters (Turner and

Pollitt 2002; Richardson 2017). Furthermore, the majority of deaf spectators do not consider

them effective in providing the access that they claim to offer (Richardson 2018).

This article draws on a doctoral research project that aims to move beyond the paradigm of

the SLIP, by identifying different techniques for creating theatre that are equally accessible to

deaf and hearing actors and audiences. Situated in a bilingual British Sign Language

1 In italicising deaf and hearing throughout, I follow Bourdieu’s convention of marking certain terms to indicate

their specific meaning within the context of his field theory (see section 2 for a fuller discussion).




(BSL2)/English rehearsal room, the researcher seeks to answer the question: how can

different methods of theatre making encourage equality of participation in performance

processes for deaf and hearing people? More specifically, here I aim to answer the questions:

how is power exercised and negotiated within the creative and translation processes of

devised bilingual theatre? And: how do negotiations of power influence the achievement of

equality for participants?

I commence by introducing a conceptualization of deaf and hearing cultures as Bourdieusian

fields, a notion that allows the socio-analysis of the power dynamics within the project,

particularly considering the inequality of deaf and hearing groups in wider society. I also

discuss the Freirean methodology that informs the research, and the specific methods

employed. Subsequently, I present data concerning communication and translation within the

creative processes of the project. In so doing, I consider translation not as a cultural product,

traditionally the focus of theatre translation scholars (Aaltonen 2000; Anderman 2005), but

instead as a complex collaborative process that is integral to the production of bilingual

dialogue without a pre-existing source text. Finally, I discuss the negotiation of power within

these interdependent processes, and conclude that when hierarchies are flattened, translation

strategies can be put in place that maximise inclusive dialogic communication. Conversely,

the maintenance of the inequality of wider society within the rehearsal room inhibits effective

translation, and participation remains restricted to those in positions of dominance.

2. Conceptualizing deaf and hearing as Bourdieusian fields

As a number of Bourdieu’s concepts are relevant to the conceptualization of deaf and hearing

fields, I summarise them here before applying them to my project.

A field contains individuals and institutions who occupy positions in relation to each other

(Bourdieu and Wacquant 1992), and those in dominant positions have power to control that

field (Thomson 2014). Bourdieu (1998) describes fields as competitive games, and the

(unwritten) rules of that game are the doxa of the field, grounded in ideologies that have been

accepted and internalized by the individuals within the field. The internalization of doxa is

the process through which individuals acquire their habitus, most significantly from family

and education systems (Bourdieu 1977). Habitus is the predisposition to behave in particular

2 My adoption of the acronym ‘BSL’ throughout this paper reflects the common practice of users of that

language to refer to it by finger-spelling BSL rather than by signing BRITISH SIGN LANGUAGE in full.




ways (Bourdieu 1990). The greater the match between an individual’s habitus and the field’s

doxa, the better that individual will be able to ‘play the game’ and the more likely they are to

occupy a powerful position within the field (Maton 2014). The achievement of dominance is

also supported by the acquisition of field-specific symbolic capital; social, cultural and

linguistic assets (Bourdieu 1986; Bourdieu 1997) that elevate an individual’s position in a

field (Swartz 1997).

In Bourdieu’s theory, field and habitus are mutually interdependent, each structuring of and

structured by the other. Individuals’ habitus predisposes them to behave in certain ways.

These practices structure the field and the social space created by the field conditions. In turn,

field conditions continuously structure individuals’ habitus. This process is exaggerated when

there is abrupt field change. In such a scenario, an individual’s habitus may no longer match

the field and existing capital may be rendered worthless (Bourdieu 1997). This is hysteresis, a

process that may offer transient opportunities for social change (Hardy 2014).

Field theory offers a means of understanding identity that is fluid and flexible, a more useful

way of conceptualizing social groups than over-deterministic notions of culture (Swartz

1997). Here I conceptualize both deaf and hearing as Bourdieusian fields. In the case of the

former, I build on O’Brien’s (2012) work in suggesting that field theory offers an effective

way of understanding the range and diversity of deaf identities (see below). Furthermore, in

the absence of adequate definitions of hearing culture, the conceptualization of a hearing

field allows a coherent exploration of the power imbalance between deaf and hearing

individuals and groups.

Conceptualizing the deaf field

O'Brien (2012) argues that all deaf children develop a distinct deaf habitus. They are unlikely

to acquire this from their parents, as 90% of deaf children are born to hearing adults (Lucas

and Schatz 2003). Similarly, the majority of deaf people are now educated in mainstream

schools (Ladd 2003), hence the acquisition of deaf habitus through shared participation in

‘embodied actions’ (Bourdieu and Wacquant 1992) at deaf schools is in decline. I suggest

that the acquisition of a deaf habitus is not a uniquely sociological phenomenon, but rather

that audiological deafness creates a physiological requirement to develop what Bahan (2014)

calls a visual-tactile orientation to the world. Furthermore, it is this visual-tactile orientation,




as much as internalized ideologies, which predisposes deaf people to adopt particular deaf

behaviours: deaf habitus is thus both a physiological and a sociological phenomenon.

Typically, deaf behaviour includes the use of signed languages, which carry significant

linguistic capital within the deaf field, and often act as a boundary marker between deaf ‘Us’

and hearing ‘Them’ (Armstrong 1999; Irvine and Gal 2002). Hearing people with little or no

knowledge of signed languages have negligible linguistic capital in the deaf field.

Historically, symbolic capital in the deaf field has accrued not only to users of signed

languages, but also to people who are members of deaf social networks. Particularly

significant capital was accorded to deaf children of deaf parents. These notions underpinned

early definitions of deaf identity (see for example Padden and Humphries 1988). More

recently, however, there has been a greater understanding of the diversity, and indeed fluidity

of practices displayed by people who self-identify as deaf. These include not only those born

deaf, but also those deafened after acquiring spoken language, deaf-blind people, hard of

hearing people, and in the case of children of deaf adults, those who are fully hearing but

whose first language is a signed language3 (Leigh (2009) provides a useful exploration of the

variety of deaf identities). Conceptualizing a deaf field is a useful way of including this

diversity of people who self-identify as deaf.

Linguistically, the deaf field also incorporates variety. Vernacular signed languages may hold

the highest symbolic capital, but in practice, signed (and gestural) languages exist on a

continuum, ranging from ‘full’ signed language (with a complex visuo-spatial grammar) to

simple visual communication using only mime and iconic gesture. Additionally, most deaf

people are to some extent bilingual, having some competence in their local spoken/written

language. Indeed, written communication in the local spoken language is commonplace and

often expected (see the data from Group 4A in Section 5), even though literacy levels may be

comparatively low (Harris et al. 2017).

Conceptualizing the hearing field

Within the literature, most explorations of hearing cultural practice are from the perspective

of deaf writers. Hearing is defined as not-deaf (Padden and Humphries 1988), or, more

3 In the latter case, the acquisition of a primary deaf habitus by hearing children within deaf families is a purely

sociological phenomenon: physiologically, they have the choice of both auditory and visual-tactile channels,

but familial influence leads them to acquire a primary deaf habitus.




provocatively, as the absence of deaf ways of being (Bauman and Murray 2014). For the

purposes of this article, it is sufficient to focus on only one feature of hearing habitus and

consequent practice: phonocentrism.

Phonocentrism is the ability, choice and assumption of using a spoken language. Historically,

humans have seen themselves as “becoming human through speech” (Bauman 2004:242).

Furthermore, spoken language can often be represented symbolically as text; indeed, the

existence of a written mode is often used to give a language legitimacy (McCoullogh 2000).

Consequently, the hearing field (in the dominant northern/western context) is not only

phonocentric, but also graphocentric. Given this phonocentrism, it is unsurprising that

spoken/written languages accrue high levels of linguistic capital in the hearing field.

Possession of this linguistic capital provides access to every sphere of hearing public

activity, and these languages dominate political, social and cultural discourse, contributing to

the maintenance of hearing hegemony (Corker 1998).

When deaf people enter social spaces created by hearing field conditions, they often have low

levels of linguistic capital, and adapt to this by drawing on all the communicative resources

available to them. Often thought of as deaf bilingualism, by for example Grosjean (1992),

Kusters et al. prefer to think of this as ‘translanguaging’, a practice in which individuals use

not only bilingualism but also a wide range of other semiotic repertoires to facilitate

communication: “image, text, gesture, gaze, facial expression, speech, posture, objects and

the environment” (2017:11). Although translanguaging facilitates communication between

deaf and hearing people, anecdotally hearing people are more likely to expect deaf people to

adapt to hearing phonocentrism. Deaf people seem to accept this responsibility, and Kusters

et al. argue that deaf people are generally better equipped for this, because of the "fluidity

and transformative quality of signs/gestures" (2017:6), and because they are more likely to be

multilingual than hearing people.

Deaf-hearing hierarchies

The different linguistic expectations of deaf and hearing people reflect the dominant position

of the hearing field over the deaf field. The majority of deaf-hearing interactions occur within

hearing social spaces: deaf people are "acculturated to, but not assimilated in, larger society"

(Murray 2008:102), whereas few hearing people spend time in deaf social spaces. As a result,




hearing doxa influences practice within deaf - hearing interactions. The relevant ideology

here is what Humphries (in an unpublished essay in 1975) coined as ‘audism’, "the notion

that one is superior based on one's ability to hear or behave in the manner of one who hears"

(Bauman 2004). It can be expressed by individuals, and also at an institutional level (Turner

2006:240). Furthermore, audist ideology may be uncritically internalized by deaf people,

triggering what Gertz (2008) calls ‘dysconscious audism’.

Audism creates what Bourdieu would describe as symbolic violence, an often unnoticed

phenomenon as it is not, or at least not only, mediated through physical violence (Schubert

2014: 180). Symbolic violence perpetrated by hearing people against deaf people is

expressed as, for example, the stigmatisation of deaf people as unintelligent or disabled. As a

result of audism, spoken languages are prioritized over signed languages: the majority of deaf

children are educated using spoken language in mainstream schools (Ladd 2003); and their

parents are encouraged not to use signed languages (Hauser and Kartheiser 2014).

Additionally the notion of deaf as a culture is increasingly medicalized: health professionals

attempt to restore ‘sufferers’ to a more ‘normal’ life (Miller et al. 2010); and hearing parents

of deaf children are strongly advised by (hearing) doctors to have their children fitted with

cochlear implants so that they can start to hear and learn a spoken language (Sparrow 2005).

Each of these can be considered as an act of symbolic violence against deaf people.

The ever-present audist doxa of the hearing field maintains the linguistic dominance of

hearing people over deaf people. The practices dependent on that doxa represent what van

Maanen (2004) would describe as the societal frame of this performance project, and suggest

that the effective negotiation of complex pre-existing power dynamics will be essential if

participants are to adopt translation strategies that support a successful creative process.

3. Adopting a Freirean methodological approach

This project seeks to achieve equality of participation in performance processes. In an attempt

to encourage the flattening of societal hierarchies, I adopt a methodology grounded in the

work of Paolo Freire (1996). His ambition was for the oppressed (those suffering symbolic

violence) in late 20th century Brazil to achieve equality with their former oppressors, without

achieving dominance over them: "the oppressed must not, in seeking to regain their humanity

[...] become in turn oppressors of the oppressors, but rather restorers of the humanity of both"




(Freire 1996:26). He proposed a transformative process led by the oppressed, as only they

truly understand their oppression. Any contribution by allies (who derive from the oppressor

group) should be carried out with the oppressed, rather than for them, ensuring that the

oppressed have agency in the process leading to their own emancipation.

Although Freire was not overtly influenced by Bourdieu, the triggers for his pedagogy align

closely with those for Bourdieu and his field theory: dominance and oppression (Burawoy

2011). Both understand society as a site of struggle in which the ideologies (or doxa) and

institutions of the dominant classes establish and maintain hierarchies that subjugate the

oppressed. For Bourdieu, however, this is a permanent state. Habitus is difficult to over-ride

(Bourdieu 1977) and even a state of hysteresis that results in the restructuring of a field

(Hardy 2014) does not remove the doxa that define that field. His approach is a ‘rationalist

pedagogy’ in which all strive to emulate the practices of the dominant group: audism is an

example of practices derived from a rationalist pedagogy. By way of contrast, Freire’s

approach is a bottom-up, transformative ‘populist pedagogy’ (Burawoy 2011). For Rancière

(2003), Bourdieu’s ‘sociocratic’ perspective is fundamentally anti-democratic, disallowing

any meaningful move towards equality. He agrees with Freire that the removal of hierarchies

is possible, through agonistic confrontation within a pluralist democracy.

Freirean pedagogy is relevant here as it is central to Participatory Action Research (PAR), a

collaborative methodology that aims to empower oppressed groups by giving them the tools

to generate local knowledge and instigate societal change (see for example Finn (1994),

Cornwall and Jewkes (1995) and Reason and Bradbury (2001) for further discussion). Such

methods are advocated by Wurm and Napier (2017) as a means of addressing inequality

between hearing researchers and deaf research participants, and inform the design of this

project.

Freirean pedagogy is also relevant to the specific performance methods used in this project.

Freire’s approach was adopted by Boal (2000) in his Theater of the Oppressed, and the

techniques he pioneered became influential in the field of Applied Theatre (AT). AT is an

umbrella term, originally coined by Ackroyd (2000) to include all forms of theatre with high

indices of participation and transformation. It is a specific form of PAR, in which theatre

practitioners disempower themselves in the pursuit of creating a democratic process within

particular communities or particular places. Participation is an interactive embodied practice




as a means of generating what Fabian (1999) calls performative knowledge. Through

participation, projects aim for personal, educational, social and/or political transformation.

(See Nicholson (2014) for a comprehensive overview of the field of AT).

Within this AT project, the specific methodological approach adopted by the actors is

devising. In this technique there is an expectation of “members of the group contributing

equally” within “a model of cooperative and non-hierarchical collaboration” (Heddon and

Milling 2016:4). Importantly, the starting point is the absence of a script, and participants in

this project are required to produce cross-cultural, and often bilingual, theatrical material.

Given the range of audiological statuses and linguistic competences of the participants (see

section 4), the creative process is dependent on effective translation practices. Indeed,

translation and creative activities are mutually interdependent.

4. Research methods

The project took place over five days in June 2017. Ten actors participated in the project,

recruited from extended networks via social media. Five of the actors self-identified as deaf

and five as hearing. Of the five deaf actors, all were able to use BSL and had some

competence in written English. Three of the five could also communicate in spoken English,

their receptive skills supported at least partially by technology (hearing aids or cochlear

implants) and lip-reading. Of the five hearing actors, all were competent in spoken and

written English, but only one was able to use BSL. In addition to the ten actors, two

professional BSL/English interpreters supported the research activities.

The actors were tasked with identifying bilingual performance techniques that offer equal

access to deaf and hearing participants, and subsequently with creating new performance

material using those techniques. On day one of the project, they used the activity of free-

listing (Weller and Romney 1988) to generate potential approaches, and these were refined

into a working list. During the remainder of the project, the techniques on that list were used

as the starting point for actors to work in smaller, more practicable groups to devise new

scenes. The composition of these groups was determined by discussion and mutual

agreement, and the groups created their own theatrical material, without external direction. If

they required communication support they could request the input of one of the BSL/English




interpreters, but this was optional; the interpreters were on standby rather than being

automatically embedded within the groups.

As well as the raw data of the finished scenes, the project generated metadata in various

formats: my own field notes, participants’ and interpreters’ reflective diaries (written English

and BSL video4), and structured reflexive interviews that the actors undertook on the final

day of the project. Metadata were also generated from a semi-structured interview that I

conducted in spoken English with one participant, Dan, at his request, in response to his

frustration at the ongoing power imbalance within his group. When quoting data, I refer to

acting participants using their own names, a convention agreed within the ensemble to allow

the subsequent presentation of data in the language in which they are generated5. In contrast,

the interpreters wished to maintain professional boundaries and accordingly their data are

anonymized.

5. Two examples of practice

What follows is an analysis of data from the fourth re-grouping of the participants, on the

afternoon of day three, into Groups 4A and 4B, as these examples most usefully shed light on

factors that influence the exercise and negotiation of power within the project. In Group 4A,

societal hierarchies are maintained and unequal power dynamics influence the working

practices and translation strategies of the group, with negative consequences. In the case of

Group 4B, however, the participants successfully negotiate power dynamics, adopt effective

translation practices, and facilitate a more productive creative process.

Group 4A

This group has six acting participants. Of these, three self-identity as deaf. All three can use

BSL, but Holly and Ruth have hearing aids and use of their voice, and can thus also access

spoken communication. Mehwish, however, is profoundly deaf and communicates

predominantly using BSL. The hearing participants (Dan, Elle and Steph) all use spoken

English, and Dan also has functional competence in BSL. In summary, five of the actors can

communicate using spoken English; BSL is available to four. All the participants also have

4 Where quotes from BSL video diaries are presented in English below, these have been translated by the author,

who is hearing and a competent user of both languages. 5 As signed languages are produced on the body (including the face) and can only meaningfully be recorded

using video technology, data generated in a signed language cannot be disseminated in their source modality

without compromising anonymity.




some competence in written English. At the start of the creative process, they choose to work

without an interpreter.

Within the group there are no established leaders: the actors who have previously adopted

positions of power within the project are now all working in Group 4B. Ruth notes that

[One issue is] personal power within the group, because a few people like to force

their way, dominate the conversation, and other people's ideas are ignored. I

realize that ideas were challenged. People have their own view and want to take

control of the group (BSL video diary, day four).

Or, as Steph summarizes, “Too many directors, not enough actors” (written English diary,

day four).

Participants identify the relatively large size of the group and the lack of a recognized leader

as conditions that allow a power struggle to develop. Elle suggests that “There’s six people,

with six ideas, and six opinions and it’s taking time navigating through them […] it’s been

hard to make decisions and keep moving forwards […] I think we’ve been lacking a bit of

team work” (written English diary, day four). For her, the solution (in retrospect) would be to

appoint “someone who is going to go ‘here we are everybody, we are going with this, that's a

great idea, no we're not doing that’” (hearing actors reflexive interview, day five). Dan

agrees, although despite his own greater awareness of deaf/hearing inequality issues than his

peers (as a student BSL/English interpreter), he rules himself out of holding this

responsibility: “I'm not the one in charge; I'm not the one who should be telling everybody

what to do” (semi-structured interview, day four).

Power dynamics within the group are mediated entirely in spoken English, by both deaf and

hearing actors. No translation is provided for Mehwish, despite her not having access to

spoken language. The deaf participants who can use BSL choose only to speak, and an

interpreter also notices, “The bilingual hearing participant does not sign and elects to use

voice at most points” (written English diary, day three). Dan notes that the group is

using hearing cultural norms to try and settle dominance […] It is [collaborative],

but only in the sense that it would be with a hearing group, where the person who

shouts loudest gets to speak and people listen … it's a case of the turn taking




being done by the loudest voice wins. Which doesn't work for everyone, just for

the person with the loudest voice (hearing actors reflexive interview, day five).

Ruth points out that the lack of translation means that “information is being missed […]

there's a communication breakdown […] The hearing people are speaking but the deaf aren't

getting it at all - so they aren't involved in what is going on” (BSL video diary, day four).

Mehwish adds, “When hearing people are speaking, sometimes I don't understand anything”

(BSL video diary, day three).

Progress within Group 4A is slow. In an attempt to facilitate the creative process, Steph

writes “a script to give the idea a structure […] which made it easier to understand” (written

English diary, day three). She writes in full, grammatically correct English. This is often

challenging for deaf people, who typically have relatively low literacy levels (Harris et al.

2017), and my instinct is that, without translation, this will add to the exclusion of the

profoundly deaf participant. An interpreter notes that “using English to agree scripting shows

a slight dominance to the English language” (written English diary, day three). Dan also

observes that “the script was definitely being written (and thought about) in English, even the

bits in BSL”, rather than the “English sections [being] devised in English and the BSL

sections in BSL” (ibid.). The profoundly deaf actor is “largely left out of the writing process”

(ibid.). Furthermore, I note in my field notes that the script is used as a tool for maintaining

hierarchies. Two participants assert its status as the definitive version of the scene, and when

Mehwish creates something different, they criticize her for getting it wrong.

The dominance of spoken and written English within this process leads the interpreters and

me to reassess the initial translation strategy of interpreters being on standby rather than

actively inserting themselves into interactions. On ethical grounds, i.e. the exclusion of the

one profoundly deaf participant, the interpreters intervene, but the group’s hearing

communication strategies have reached a point where it cannot function in an interpreter-

friendly way. Participants talk over each other in a manner that compromises the interpreting,

and Ruth notices that the interpreters attempt to resolve this by adopting a powerful position

within the interactions: “The interpreters are trying to control things, slow it down and

explain more” (BSL video diary, day four). Inclusivity in the group, however, does not

improve. Dan notes that Mehwish is




not being given the opportunity to kind of say “Hang on guys, can I be involved"

because her involvement is almost always to catch up with what has already been

discussed, and the only time she is getting into it is where somebody has

specifically stopped and said [to her] "Hang on, what do you think?" And that is

not happening very much (semi-structured interview, day four).

Neither the use of the (untranslated) written script nor the intervention of the interpreters are

strategies that encourage inclusive, dialogic communication within the group. The creative

process is slow, and participants’ frustration pushes them increasingly towards using hearing

strategies. As Dan comments, “The deaf actors that can speak or listen in any form are just

reverting to that because it is so much quicker” (semi-structured interview, day four). He

suspects, however, that in the interests of working as quickly as possible, “some of the deaf

actors […] will just say something, or lip-read, and even if they haven't fully understood it,

it's still quicker than waiting for the interpreter to finish” (ibid.).

To support progress towards completion of the scene, I invite Moira, one of the actors in

Group 4B, to spend a short time directing the group. Moira is profoundly deaf, a first

language user of BSL, and a student of performance on the Royal Conservatoire of

Scotland’s ‘BA in Performance in BSL and English’ course. She directs the actors using a

mix of BSL, mime and gesture. The process remains hierarchical, as Moira adopts a position

of power over the group, but her fluidity of communication choices encourages a noticeable

shift in communication preferences and translation strategies within the group. The

interpreter is no longer required. One of the bilingual deaf actors reverts to using only BSL;

the other alternates between speech and sign, sometimes undertaking self-translation. One

hearing participant opts to replace speech with a lingua franca of gesture and mime. For the

hearing actors, the intervention of a director, whilst creating a power dynamic of its own, is

essential in making this group effective. Dan notes that “having Moira direct was a vital

change to the process [...] This is a vital step for restructuring the power in the room. It was

the first time the process has felt properly inclusive” (written English diary, day four,

emphasis original).

Later, when Moira has returned to her own group, the previous hierarchies begin to re-

emerge. Two participants again dominate Mehwish by asserting the accuracy of the written

script and criticizing her when they judge that she is doing it wrong. I intervene, remove the

written script, and create a new hierarchy by placing Ruth in charge, on the grounds that she




is deaf, can speak and sign, and works as a teacher, and thus presumably has some leadership

skills. I comment in my field notes that “the rehearsal became more fair and fast moving – the

hierarchy removed”, and the group eventually completes the scene they are working on.

Group 4B

Group 4B works at the same time as Group 4A. It has four participants, two deaf (Moira and

Sean) and two hearing (Jasmine and Michaela). Moira is profoundly deaf and has no use of

spoken English. Sean has hearing aids and is competent in both BSL and spoken English.

Jasmine and Michaela are both users of spoken English. Neither have competence in BSL,

but both are experienced in physical theatre techniques and are predisposed to

communicating visually rather than using dialogue. All four participants have some

competence in written English.

During the project, Moira and Jasmine have both emerged as leaders within the different

creative processes. Furthermore, Jasmine and Sean have volunteered to lead warm-up games

and exercises on different days. Despite (or perhaps because of) the shared experience of

power embodied by Group 4B, no observable hierarchy is created. Moira notes that

everybody “is throwing in ideas” (BSL video diary, day three), and I observe in my field

notes that the creative process also includes a number of well-known drama exercises,

initially described by Boal (2002), which involve organic shifts of leadership between the

participants. The resulting ethos allows the development of a genuinely collaborative

approach, underpinned by a flexible approach to communication and translation strategies.

Importantly, these actors do not prioritize one language as the language of the creative

process. Instead, all four actors use all the semiotic tools at their disposal to make

communication work, what Kusters et al. (2017) might call translanguaging. As Michaela

notes, “We devised by writing things down, or finger-spelling. Myself and Jasmine spoke

clearer with bigger lip movements, and Sean helped us as he can speak and sign” (written

English diary, day three). Gesture and mime become a lingua franca. Importantly, as Moira

points out,

We started with movement; we held back on dialogue and just did actions to help

the improvising. It helped us think of the words that we would put into a script




but for now, we kept that to one side and just focussed on the actions (BSL video

diary, day four).

The process is supported by each actor’s efforts to build their own bilingual competence.

Michaela notes that “learning more BSL words/phrases every day has helped me understand

and communicate – and it was very easy to pick it up” (written English diary, day three).

Jasmine similarly undertakes small moments of self-translation using signs she has learnt

during the earlier part of the project. From the other end of the linguistic spectrum, Moira

tries to develop her lip-reading skills, working with Michaela on sections of spoken dialogue.

“When we were ready we sat with each other like in a mirror and I was watching her lip

pattern, so we could practice picking up our cues from that” (BSL video diary, day three). By

the fourth day, she reports that

I'm much more confident at lip reading … It all comes from practice. Compared

with the first or second day when it was really confusing, now I feel much more

confident to discuss things with hearing people and to try to lip read (BSL video

diary, day four).

Where these competences are insufficient, and translation is required, Sean undertakes intra-

group interpreting whenever possible. Jasmine notes that this is particularly useful. “Having a

BSL to English speaker in the group made it easier to negotiate dialogue and what was going

to be said” (written English diary, day three).

Group 4B creates two new scenes in the time in which Group 4A creates one. During the

creative processes of both their scenes, the group requests an interpreter to support

communication on only one occasion, to work out specific issues of narrative development

and to clarify small moments of miscommunication. Michaela notes that the group “rarely

used an interpreter” (written English diary, day three) and I observe the actors building

rapport directly rather than having their communication mediated by an external agent.

As with Group 4A, this group also uses written English on flip chart paper to ensure that the

physical improvisation develops a consistent structure. The process here, however, is

different. This group begins not with discussion and writing, but with physical improvisations

from which they produce a bullet-pointed list of actions, the function of which is supportive

rather than prescriptive. Only when they are certain how they wish the sketch to unfold do

they create a more formal script, to ensure that bilingual dialogue can be delivered




consistently and accurately. I observe that rather than making language choices that match

their own predispositions, and ignoring the necessity for translation, each participant ensures

that their peers understand what is happening. The group is consistently inclusive and the

result is a successful bilingual creative process.

6. Discussion and conclusion

The data suggest that effective communication within the creative processes of this project is

supported by linguistic flexibility and a high degree of functional bilingualism. This includes

not only individuals who can code-switch and provide intra-group translation, but also the

practice of translanguaging (Kusters et al. 2017), which here includes language-free

communication using gesture and mime, and written materials in simple English. Conversely,

effective communication is compromized by practice that places one language in a dominant

position, such as the use of untranslated spoken English by Group 4A.

Furthermore, inclusive communication is maintained by favouring the use of intra-group

translation wherever possible, rather than having an embedded interpreter. Occasional

professional interpreting is sometimes required, but the data from Group 4B suggest that

without one, individuals can build relationships with each other directly and develop effective

translanguaging practice. This contradicts the doxa of both deaf and hearing fields that

includes the ideology that the use of a BSL/English interpreter is the default solution for

communication problems between deaf and hearing individuals. The data from Group 4A

suggest that the use of an interpreter gives all participants an understanding of the general

flow of an interaction, but does not necessarily facilitate meaningful dialogic communication.

The different translation strategies adopted by the two groups are influenced by the power

dynamics at play within their creative processes. Consider Group 4A. Here the audist use of

spoken English excludes the single profoundly deaf participant. Each of the three oppressive

practices described by Freire (1996:122ff) are observed. There is ‘cultural invasion’ in that

the dominant practice of speech is imposed on a deaf participant who is a competent theatre-

maker in BSL but cannot now contribute. There is ‘manipulation’, in that the deaf actors with

voice are subconsciously persuaded to participate through speech, even though this is

exclusive, and, as Chin (1991) warns, is a means of deforming the minority group. Through a




combination of cultural invasion and manipulation, there is also ‘divide and rule’: two of the

deaf participants work with the hearing actors; one cannot.

The hierarchy created is the natural condition of spaces where practice is determined by

Bourdieusian field conditions, in this case the hearing field. Spoken English is understood

ideologically, in this context, as being dominant, and all actors, deaf and hearing, have

internalized the doxa that speech is the language modality of power. Individuals’ levels of

field-specific linguistic capital create a hierarchy, and in this case, the habitus of those with

higher levels of linguistic capital predisposes them to use speech. For the deaf actors who can

use their voice, this is an example of dysconscious audism. Those with no linguistic capital,

in this case Mehwish (profoundly deaf with no spoken language competence), find

themselves at the bottom of the hierarchy, a position in which they are excluded from spoken

interactions, which in this case means all interactions. Those in positions that are more

dominant do not recognize the effect of linguistic capital on their position in the field, and

focus only on the creative process. No translation is offered for Mehwish, an act of symbolic

violence against her. The process becomes a vicious cycle. As habitus and field are each

mutually structuring and being structured by the other, the more the participants speak, the

more the social space resembles the hearing field, which in turn predisposes individuals to

communicate more using spoken rather than signed language.

The field conditions influencing the work of Group 4A are disrupted when I ask Moira to join

the group as their director. In this role, Moira is in a de facto position of power, but her

habitus does not match the field that she enters. Rather her symbolic capital is drawn

predominantly from the deaf field. She has significant social capital as a political activist

within the deaf community. She has acquired cultural capital as a deaf performer and

undergraduate at the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland. Most significantly, being a first

language user of BSL gives her significant linguistic capital. The impact of Moira entering

the space of Group 4A is for its field to be significantly, if only temporarily, restructured by

her habitus and capital: she introduces the conditions of the deaf field and the rehearsal

begins to resemble deaf social spaces. Fully inclusive dialogic communication is not

achieved, but the group is at least transported away from acceptance of hearing doxa by the

translanguaging strategies that she uses.




During Moira’s intervention, the two actors with no access to BSL have their contributions

curtailed. One remains focused on the written English script, unable to participate in the deaf-

led experience. Dan notes that, “The other hearing actors were visibly uncomfortable and

didn’t understand” (written English diary, day four). This is the phenomenon that Bourdieu

calls hysteresis, a mismatch between habitus and field and a situation in which individuals

have the potential to over-ride the predispositions of their habitus and contribute to the

shaping of a new field (Swartz 1997). Moira undermines the arbitrary language ideology that

places English as dominant. When she leaves the group, two of the participants modify their

communication and translation strategies to be more inclusive. The field conditions

introduced by Moira may have partly restructured their habitus, although this would most

likely be temporary, and Bourdieu (1977) would argue that such a restructuring is difficult,

and only achievable after a long time. Indeed, two other participants are unable to adapt so

quickly, and remain trapped in the earlier hierarchies created by their group, using only

speech (even though one is deaf and could use BSL) and focusing on the written English

script (as already described).

The power dynamics exhibited by Group 4B are somewhat different. In Bourdieusian terms,

this group embodies a large amount of pre-existing symbolic capital, particularly Moira and

Jasmine’s social capital as leaders and cultural capital as performers, as well as a diversity of

linguistic, or more accurately, communicative capital acquired during the week by all four

actors as a result of their willingness to make communication work. The data suggest that the

group do achieve effective communication, and that the precondition for that achievement is

the willingness of participants to negotiate power and adopt a range of communication and

translation strategies that reflects the language needs of the Other rather than the

predisposition of the Self. Whenever possible, no specific codified language is used, and

gesture and mime are adopted as a lingua franca. When formal language is required,

linguistic ideologies are not asserted, and rather than being used to maintain power, language

and translation choices are made that create conditions of equal participation.

In Bourdieusian terms, the actions that support the creation of effective communication

require a significant act of will by each individual to over-ride the predispositions of their

habitus and the doxa of the field with which they self-identify. Leaving doxa behind,

particularly those drawn from linguistic and audist (and indeed anti-audist) ideologies,

suggests that the space in which effective communication occurs cannot in itself be described




as subject to the conditions of a Bourdieusian field, because it is not a site of inequality and

struggle. Of course, this is context specific, as such a space is likely to sit within other fields,

defined by other doxa, and thus containing other hierarchies that are not created by the

unequal acquisition of linguistic capital. Furthermore, the pre-existing fields are not

destroyed, as their inherent hierarchies are still present in the societal frame of the external

world. Deaf-space still represents practice generated by the deaf field; hearing-space remains

a feature of the hearing field. In contrast, this ‘third space’ (after Bhabha (1990) and

Greenwood (2005)) is a liminal space, situated between deaf and hearing fields, and offering

the individuals who achieve it the liberty to act, free from linguistic ideology and doxa.

This third space is, then, a utopian goal, undefinable in Bourdieusian terms. It is achieved

using a bottom–up approach, a Freirean populist pedagogy rather than Bourdieu’s top-down

rationalist pedagogy (Burawoy, 2011). It is created by dominant and oppressed groups

working together to negotiate a position of equality through the creation of a public sphere of

interaction. This new public sphere is not aligned with Bourdieu’s view of society and its

realization supports Rancière’s (2003) rejection of field theory as an anti-democratic

sociological system that condemns those with little symbolic capital to remain at the bottom

of hierarchies, kept in their place by the institutions of the capital-rich.

The example of Group 4B suggests that such a Freirean third space is achievable within a

bilingual rehearsal room, even after only a few days of working. The data from Group 4A,

however, and the subsequent socio-analysis, both point to a paradigm in which work within

the rehearsal room can only be separated with difficulty from the influence of wider

institutional and societal contexts, in this case deaf-hearing inequality. Linguistic ideologies

pervade the rehearsal room, and only with significant effort by participants to override their

ideological positions can hierarchies be flattened. When they are, however, all actors can

have equal agency in the mutually interdependent processes of translation and collaborative

creativity.

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Wenqian Zhang, Translation Networks and Power: An Archival Research on the English Translation of Mo Yan’s

‘The Garlic Ballads’, 185-205 185

Translation Networks and Power: An Archival Research on the

English Translation of Mo Yan’s The Garlic Ballads

Wenqian Zhang

University of Leeds, UNITED KINGDOM

[email protected]

ABSTRACT

While the translator’s agency has attracted increasing attention in Translation Studies, it is

rarely the translator alone who determines how to shape a translation. Other agents, such

as literary agents, editors and publishers, are also involved in the translation production,

with underlying power dynamics at various stages throughout the translation process.

This article draws on a Bourdieusian framework to examine how the translation network

of multiple agents interplayed in Howard Goldblatt’s English translation of Mo Yan’s The

Garlic Ballads. By analysing the translator’s archival materials, the article shows that

although the translation project was initiated by the translator, it was completed for the

mutual benefit of different agents, with the publisher having the strongest power in the

translation network. Although the translator only played a minor role at the later stages of

the translation process, the capital he gained in the translation field provided him with

resources with which to play in the publishing field, which in turn enhanced his position

in the translation field.

Keywords: Archival materials; Bourdieu; Howard Goldblatt; power; The Garlic Ballads;

translation network

1. Introduction

With approaches from fields of Cultural Studies and Sociology being increasingly applied to

Translation Studies, the scope of the translation process has expanded from a mere linguistic

translating activity, to what Toury calls the translation event (1995:249), a process defined by

Chesterman (2007:173) as “starting with the client’s request for a translation and ending with

its reception by other agents on various levels”. Since Simeoni’s (1995) call for an

agent-grounded study of translation, regarding Translation Studies as “human science”, many

researchers have adopted sociological approaches, such as Bourdieu’s sociology of cultural

production and Latour’s Actor-Network theory (ANT), to analyse the concept of agency

within the translation process across a variety of actors, particularly the translator him/herself

(e.g. Milton and Bandia 2009; Kinnunen and Koskinen 2010; Khalifa 2014). However,

excessive attention to the role played by the translator alone may lead translators to the

awkward position where all the possible problems and errors in the translated text are




attributed to them. Howard Goldblatt is a salient example of a translator and his translations

having been exposed to public scrutiny, especially after Mo Yan’s winning of the Nobel Prize

for literature in 2012. On the one hand, he was hailed as the foremost English translator of

Chinese literature, on the other he was criticised by Chinese scholars for rewriting and

manipulating the original, being market-oriented, holding an orientalist translation philosophy,

etc. Goldblatt himself, in a self-interview, made it clear that what he “wish[ed] for in a review

of [his] work is a broader critique” (Ge 2011: 99). With this in mind, it is necessary to

investigate the broader concept of the translation process in which different agents exert their

power. The present article draws on Bourdieu’s concepts of field, habitus and capital as tried

and tested tools to examine the translation network of multiple agents formed around

Goldblatt’s English translation of Mo Yan’s 天堂蒜薹之歌 The Garlic Ballads (ST 1988; TT

1995), aiming to view the translator and his translation fairly, to show how different agents

negotiated and conflicted with each other, and most importantly, to show who had the power

to shape the fate of the translation.

2. Theoretical framework

The theoretical framework underpinning this article is provided by Bourdieu’s concepts of

field, capital and habitus. Bourdieu refers to the field as “a separate social universe having its

own laws of functioning, its specific relations of force, within the field of power” (1993:163).

A field is internally and externally structured in terms of power relations. To be specific,

inside a field, “the agents struggle for the maintenance or change of power relations on the

basis of the various types of capital they have” (Wolf 2011: 4). Different forms of capital

represent important resources – economic, cultural, social, symbolic – that allow agents to

join a field. The volume and types of capital they possess determine whether they can achieve

dominance in the field, so that “centers of power and force are created around those agents

who dispose of the strongest forms of capitals” (Wolf 2011:6). In other words, the more

capital an agent has, the more powerful he/she is in the field. The habitus of different agents,

i.e. the dispositions that inform decisions of cultural producers (Bourdieu 1990: 53), generates

the strategies which enable them to seek the accumulation of capital. When it comes to the

external level, there are many different fields of activities, such as the literary field, the

political field, the economic field, etc., located in the field of power, which means the

common shared social space. Each practice-specific field can be divided into different

subfields, which are driven by specific stakes and interests at a given time. It is worth




mentioning that the boundaries of fields are fuzzy, so different fields tend to interact with each

other (Tyulenev 2014:184). The power relations operating between fields mean that the

dominant field always tends to impose its rules, values and logic onto other fields.

Bourdieu’s theory has been widely applied to Translation Studies (e.g., Simeoni 1998;

Gouanvic 2002; The Translator 2005; Sela-Sheffy 2005; Meylaerts 2010; Hanna 2016).

However, researchers mainly examine the agency of an individual agent or the relationship

between agency and structure, rather than the interaction and negotiation between different

agents. The persuasiveness of Bourdieu’s framework for an analysis of the interplay between

different translation agents lies in that it enables researchers to explore how power relations

between and within fields have structured agents’ behaviour, how a translation was produced

and who had the decisive power to shape it. For Bourdieu, “[t]o enter a field … means

‘investing’ one’s (academic, cultural, symbolic) capital in [the most advantageous way] as to

derive maximum benefit or ‘profit’ from participation” (1993:8). As a socially-situated

activity, the translation practice is located in several fields. Although some of the agents

operating in the translation field come from its adjacent fields and may have different

standpoints, for example, the editor and publisher from the publishing field, the reviewer from

the reviewing field, they have a common goal based on mutual interest – to invest in this

translation project, publish the translated text and all gain benefit from it. Meanwhile, when

encountering the external social, economic, cultural and political constraints and norms, the

translation field also interacts with its adjacent fields, particularly the publishing field. After a

translation project is commissioned, the translation network of multiple agents is formed at

the intersection of the translation field and the publishing field. Each translation project

functions as a web, with different agents interacting with each other, aiming to bring the

translated text to market.

The completion of each translation project depends on “multiple translatorship” (Jansen and

Wegener 2013:1) or the “agential network” (Qi 2016:42), which means the translator is not

the sole decision-maker in the translation process, but rather his/her agency is inextricably

intertwined with that of other agents in multiple ways. However, the role played by other

agents like the literary agent, the editor and the publisher are easily overlooked and the power

differentials between various agents also remain largely invisible in the published final

products. In order to trace their presence and produce a bigger picture of translation and

translation history, researchers have shifted their focus to archives (e.g., Munday 2013, 2014;




Qi 2016, 2018; Summers 2017; Paloposki 2017). Archival materials, such as a translator’s

papers or a publisher’s record, can not only “provide information on [the translator’s] past

working conditions, practices, personal networks and decision-making as well as on the

professional hybridity on individual translation persons”, but also “further unveil a broader

framework of a translation event with its dynamic power relations as well as economic and

commercial constraints” (Kujamäki 2018:247).

In the case of Howard Goldblatt, the last decade witnessed a sharp increase in the number of

studies on him and his translation, particularly after Mo Yan won the Nobel Prize for literature

in 2012. Most of these studies are product-oriented, some of which use ST-TT comparison in

terms of narratology or some linguistic features to examine how the translator deals with the

source text, while others use corpus-based methodologies to analyse the translator’s style. A

considerable number of researchers examine Goldblatt’s translation philosophy, or conduct an

overview of his translation career, aiming to see what we can learn from his success in order

to promote Chinese literature abroad. Only a limited number of researchers approach the

translator and his translations from a sociological perspective, using Bourdieu’s sociology or

Latour’s ANT to examine the translator’s habitus and trajectory, the translation production

process of a certain project or the accumulation of the translator’s capital (e.g., Yan 2013;

Wang 2014; Xie 2016). Although there are perhaps already too many studies focusing on

Goldblatt’s translation of Mo Yan, the agential network in the translation process is still

underexplored. For this article, I systematically analyse the correspondence between the

translator Howard Goldblatt, the author Mo Yan, the literary agent Sandra Dijkstra, the editors

Nan Graham and Courtney Hodell, as well as other representatives of the publisher Viking

Press, which were collected from the Howard Goldblatt Collection at the Chinese Literature

Translation Archive1 (University of Oklahoma, USA). So far, only two researchers have

conducted research on the archival materials in the Howard Goldblatt Collection, either

exploring the broader sense of translation process in Goldblatt’s translation career (Xu 2016a,

2016b), or the multiple authorship in translating contemporary Chinese novels into the

American publishing industry (Yan forthcoming). Based on a socio-archival analysis of the

translator’s papers in the archive, this article aims to sketch the translation network of agents

from different fields in the translation process and uncover the power differentials between

them.

1 For more information about the archive, please see:

https://libraries.ou.edu/content/chinese-literature-translation-archive, accessed on 21 January 2019.

https://libraries.ou.edu/content/chinese-literature-translation-archive




3. Power dynamics underlying the translation network in The Garlic

Ballads

The publication of The Garlic Ballads (hereafter Garlic) was the outcome of a translation

network formed at the intersection of the translation field and publishing field. At that time,

the field of translating Chinese literature to the US (the translation field) and the field of

publishing translated Chinese literary works in the US (the publishing field) were not strong

enough to be stand-alone fields, but rather were regarded as the subfields of the American

literary field.

Figure1. The translation network of multiple agents situated at the intersection of the

translation field and the publishing field.

This network was initiated by Goldblatt (the translator in capital letters) and functioned as

follows: Author ← TRANSLATOR → Literary Agent → Publisher. The author and

translator came from the translation field, while the literary agent and publisher came from the

publishing field. Goldblatt, the translator, was the key player in this network, who decided to

translate Mo Yan because of his literary taste and judgment. His literary agent was responsible

for seeking potential publishers who were willing to publish this book.

3.1 Selecting the original

The power relations in the translation process are inherent from the beginning, in the selection




of texts to be translated into the target language. Garlic was selected mainly because of

Goldblatt’s social capital, cultural capital and habitus. The author-translator relationship

between Mo Yan and Goldblatt started in 1988 when one of Goldblatt’s friends in Hong Kong,

William Tay sent him a copy of the Chinese magazine Shiyue (十月, October), in which

Garlic appeared in the first issue of 1988. After reading this novel, Goldblatt said he was

absolutely knocked out, and had never been so stunned by a piece of literature (Goldblatt and

Efthimiatou 11 December 2012). He immediately wrote to Mo Yan to ask for permission to

translate it and find a publisher, and Mo Yan agreed (Sparks and Goldblatt 26 May 2013). At

the time that Garlic was published in China, Chinese literature was gradually being liberated

from political and ideological constraints, with different types of literature emerging, such as

scar literature, root-seeking literature and avant-garde literature, all of which attracted great

attention from Western sinologists and researchers (Zhao 1993; Goldblatt 1995). Around the

1980s, there was hardly any market for modern and contemporary Chinese literature in

English, and translated Chinese literary works were mostly published by university presses

(Hung 1991). These translation projects were mainly initiated by translators “who were

mostly academics teach[ing] Chinese at various universities in the West” (Hung 1991:39). The

reason behind their translation was usually because of “a shortage of available up-to-date

teaching material, or in many cases from the translator’s own enthusiasm for a certain writer’s

works” (ibid.). Translation activities at that time were not strong and systematic enough to

form an independent translation field. In this sense, when analysing the production of Garlic,

the field of translating Chinese literature into the US is regarded as a subfield of the American

literary field.

In order to analyse the power interplay between different agents, it is necessary to investigate

their positions and trajectories in the related fields. Before writing to Mo Yan in 1988,

Goldblatt’s translations, including single volumes and short stories, were largely related to his

academic research and published by university presses in the US or literary magazines in

Taiwan and Hong Kong. Although Goldblatt did not receive any formal training as a translator,

his habitus in the translation field was converted from his habitus attained as a research-active

professor in Chinese literature, and indirectly gained from his education and past translation

activities. These early translations earned him social capital (connection with many famous

Chinese authors), cultural capital (published translations, translation competence, literary taste)

and symbolic capital (expert in Chinese literature, famous English translator of Chinese

literature) in the translation field. As for the author, before Goldblatt wrote to him in 1988,




Mo Yan was an emerging writer who not only explored experimentation in terms of content

but also in the narrative form and structure of his own work. He began to make a name for

himself in the Chinese literary scene because of the publication of his two important works,

透明的红萝卜 Radish (ST 1985; TT 2016) and 红高粱 Red Sorghum 2(ST 1987; TT 1993).

Although there had been some translations of Mo Yan’s works into English, these translations

were mainly short stories and did not arouse so much reaction in the global readership. What

is more, Mo Yan cannot speak English and did not have knowledge of the translation

procedures and publishing procedures in the USA, so he lacked the field-specific capital.

Goldblatt claims that when he wrote to ask for Mo Yan’s permission, Mo Yan was “a bit of

nobody” (Goldblatt 12 October 2012). Goldblatt’s social connection with his Hong Kong

friend William Tay provided the conditions for his discovery of Mo Yan’s great novel. His

cultural capital in the form of artistic evaluation skills and scholarship in Chinese literature

enabled him to spot Mo Yan’s literary merit and potential. To a certain extent, Mo Yan was

passively introduced into the American literary market and the translator had more power than

the author in the translation field.

It is important to note that in the process of translating and publishing Garlic, Goldblatt, as a

translator, already had his own literary agent Sandra Dijkstra. The literary agent’s agency

cannot be easily overlooked because her participation in the translation process highlights its

“networked and economic dimensions … which can help explain the commercialization of

translations as cultural commodities in literary markets” (Meng 2018:212). Having a literary

agent gave access to the trade market for publishing translations of Chinese literature in the

US, and Goldblatt’s translation projects began to connect more closely with the publishing

industry. Since commercial trade houses in the US were reluctant to publish translations

because of production cost and economic risks, relatively few translated Chinese literary

works were published by the commercial presses. In this sense, the field of publishing

translated Chinese literature in the US is also regarded as a subfield of the American literary

field. Goldblatt’s social capital was instrumental in forming the partnership between him and

Dijkstra. When Goldblatt was contacting publishers by himself to sell his translation of

another of Mo Yan’s novels, Red Sorghum, his friend Amy Tan, the Chinese American author

of the bestseller The Joy Luck Club (1989), introduced her agent Dijkstra to Goldblatt. Before

the collaboration with Goldblatt, Dijkstra did not have any experience of promoting translated

2 Although The Garlic Ballads was the first novel of Mo Yan that Goldblatt began to translate, Red Sorghum was the first

one that was published in English.




Chinese literature and there was no Chinese author on her client list. Although Dijkstra did

not know Chinese, she had “a literary taste honed by a Ph.D. in French literature, a keen

editorial eye trained during a decade of university teaching, and selling smarts … on the

business front”3. Dijkstra’s cultural capital in the form of literary taste and her Ph.D. in

literature, as well as her habitus attained from education and past working experience granted

her a high position in the publishing field, being regarded as “the most powerful literary agent

on the West Coast”4. Their partnership reflects the fact that Dijkstra shared the same ‘feel’ as

Goldblatt, namely that Mo Yan is a great writer with remarkable literary merit. Having a

literary agent was also a demonstration of Goldblatt’s power and influence, since relatively

few translators had agents. The capital Goldblatt had accumulated in the translation field

could be converted into important resources for him to deploy in the publishing field, which,

in turn, made the literary agent trust Goldblatt’s expertise in translation and Chinese literature.

In Mo Yan’s authorisation letter dated November 15, 1991, he gave permission to Dijkstra to

sign any and all agreements on his behalf with publication and royalty issues for his present

and future works translated by Goldblatt (Stalling forthcoming). Dijkstra began to represent

Mo Yan and dealt with the overseas copyrights for his works.

Although Goldblatt had more power in the translation field, when the translation field was

interacting with the publishing field, he was no longer in a dominant status. The literary agent

acts in the interests of the author (and the translator), hoping to sell the content to the most

appropriate publisher who offers the best price and contract, whereas the publisher has the

final say in determining the pace of promoting and publishing a foreign author. As a risky

business, “to publish a book in translation will always cost more than one originally written in

English” (Schulte 1990: 1), which requires “a significant initial outlay for translation rights,

the translator’s fee, and marketing” (Venuti 1998:124). The economic factor contributes to the

reluctance of publishers to publish translation and the marginality of translation in the US

literary market. In a letter of December 16, 1992 from Nan Graham to Sandra Dijkstra,

Graham responded to several of Dijkstra’s concerns in her previous letter of December 9

(Folder 2 Correspondence, Box 7 Mo Yan, Author Series). Dijkstra believed that it was

necessary to negotiate a contract for Mo Yan’s Song of Garlic in Paradise County5 before

publishing Red Sorghum, if they did not do so, in her words, they would hurt Mo Yan (ibid.).

3 Sandra Dijkstra Literary Agency: https://dijkstraagency.com/sandra-dijkstra.php, accessed on 21 January 2019. 4 Ibid. 5 The original English title of The Garlic Ballads.

https://dijkstraagency.com/sandra-dijkstra.php




But Graham responded that they should

stall publication of SONG OF GARLIC until the paperback of RED SORGHUM

has been available for at least six months. The idea is, especially in introducing a

challenging new international writer, to expand the readership with paperback

publication and then to convert some of those readers to hardcover the next time

around (ibid.).

Graham’s words reflect that when bringing a “challenging new” foreign author into the

American literary market, the publishers would weigh the balance to see whether they could

make a profit. Before signing a contract with Mo Yan on Garlic, they needed time to see

whether the first novel Red Sorghum would be well received or not. As Graham claimed,

Viking had paid “an unearned advance” on Red Sorghum and did not want to pay another

(ibid.). Even though she believed that Mo Yan “is a writer we all feel will earn a place on the

stage of world literature”, “it may take as long as it took Vargas Llosa or Rushdie or even

Gordimer” (ibid.).

The opposing standpoints between the literary agent and the publisher in this letter

demonstrate their conflicts of interest. It is important to note that what the literary agent aimed

to promote was not a single volume of the author’s book, but rather the author himself.

Dijkstra’s concern was to maximise the benefits of the author (and the translator) because if

they could have the translations of two of Mo Yan’s strong novels together, this author would

leave a deep impression on American readers. She wanted to accelerate the pace of promoting

Mo Yan into the US market, and in turn, she could get commissions from advances and

royalties. As for the publisher, although Viking intended to publish Mo Yan’s Garlic, the

publisher had to consider the market and sales figures because everyone enters the field to

play the ‘game’ not to lose but to get a stake in it.

Even after the publication of Red Sorghum, the publication of Garlic was still delayed

because of economic considerations. In a letter of October 20, 1993 from Nan Graham to

Howard Goldblatt (Folder 2 Correspondence, Box 7 Mo Yan, Author Series), Graham stated

The sales reps (and, in fact, publicity, too) feel that we should wait on hardcover

publication of GARLIC until we’ve given RED SORGHUM a chance to expand

Mo Yan’s reputation through the paperback. They just think that some months of

course adoption will help the next book a lot. Hence, they would like to publish

GARLIC in the spring of 95 (ibid.).




Because there is no follow-up correspondence or translation contract for this book available in

the archive, we cannot know when the contract for Garlic was signed. This book was

published in May 1995 as stipulated in Graham’s letter mentioned above, and the final say

about when to publish the translated product lay in the publisher’s hands. The publisher had

more power than other agents in the translation network. Before having a literary agent,

Goldblatt had to contact the publisher himself in order to sell the translation. After Goldblatt

and Dijkstra agreed on translating and promoting Mo Yan into English, the literary agent, on

behalf of the author and the translator, was responsible for the job of selling the content, and

negotiating contracts and terms with the publisher. Sitting on opposite sides of the table in

promoting Mo Yan and Garlic, what the literary agent and the publisher competed for was the

economic capital, which could then be converted into other forms of capital, like symbolic

capital and the cultural capital. The economic capital was important for the literary agent

Dijkstra because the capital she gained in this translation project could be applied to future

projects and used to spot and sign more writers with literary talent based on her own tastes

and evaluation. Economic capital was important for Viking because they needed to finance

the translation and publication of books at different stages. In the early stages, they had paid a

large advance to the author and were unsure whether they could make a profit from it. Later,

the publisher also needed to invest in producing, editing, packaging and marketing the

translated book. At this early stage of initiating the translation project, it is obvious that the

publisher had more control over the translation process.

3.2 Translating and editing

In a publishing house, the most valuable editor is one who has “the right combination of

judgement, taste, social flair and financial nous” (Thompson 2010:6). In the translation

process, the editor is potentially an influential presence, whose views on linguistic, stylistic or

narrative issues, as well as readers’ expectation in the target culture will affect the transfer

from the source text to the target text. As their agency is usually invisible to the public,

archival materials such as the correspondence between the translator and editor, as well as the

translation drafts can provide substantial evidence for researchers to explore the role played

by editors. The translator’s practices are influenced by the constraints or norms that the

editor/publisher imposed in the process of editing the manuscript. In order to make a

well-received translation, the translator has to follow the norms that govern the translation

market, bearing the target readers and market in mind.




The editorial job of Garlic was mainly done by Courtney Hodell, and Goldblatt also

expressed his thanks to Hodell in the “Translator’s Note” for her “editorial insight and

unflagging enthusiasm” (Mo 1995). In a letter of May 5, 1994 from Hodell to Goldblatt

(Folder 2 Correspondence, Box 7 Mo Yan, Author Series), she gave very detailed suggestions

on how to edit and adapt the translated text, including several aspects listed below.

- Title

- Occasional jarring translation of idiomatic language

- Inconsistency in expressing currency and translating names

- Dealing with the repetition in Mo Yan’s “scenic” writing

- Mo Yan is lost in “his intricate series of flashbacks with flashbacks” and “the chronology

seems a bit bizarre at times”.

- The biggest issue is with the end of the manuscript, ask Mo Yan to rewrite it.

Editorial interventions are very common in translating Chinese literature into the US, which is

mainly because of the absence of editing and low status of editors in China’s publishing

houses, and the quality of the original Chinese writing (Jenner, 1990; Goldblatt 2000;

Goldblatt 2004). The general rule in editing translated Chinese literature is that the translated

texts “need to be polished till we forget that they are translations, like a window so clean that

we are not aware that it stands between us and what we are looking at” (Jenner 1990: 193).

From among the six aspects listed above, Hodell’s aim was to deal with flaws in the translated

text and make it acceptable to target receivers. For example, the original English title of

Garlic was Song of Garlic in Paradise County, which was translated literally from the

Chinese title Tiantang Suantai Zhi Ge. In correspondence among themselves, they had been

calling it Song of Garlic for short. Hodell thought this short title “might be a more palatable

title for Western tongues than SONG OF GARLIC IN PARADISE COUNTY” which “also

echoes nicely the rhythm of RED SORGHUM” (Letter from Hodell to Goldblatt, May 5,

1994). The title of a book is the first thing readers see when choosing among a number of

books. It is important to choose a title that catches the reader’s eye and is easy to remember

and pronounce. Although the final title of this book is not Song of Garlic, the published title

The Garlic Ballads is presumably adapted from Song of Garlic.

Hodell’s aim of dealing with the translations of idiomatic terms and proverbs is also to make

the translation acceptable and readable. However, her suggestions seem to contradict the




fluent and invisible translation strategy that is prevalent in the Anglo-American context. For

example, Hodell mentioned that the translation of some “relational terms like pal, daddy,

gramps, and so on … sound too American to come out of rural China”. In terms of Chinese

proverbs, she claimed that “they are a powerful window onto a completely alien body of

tradition and thought”, so she suggested if Goldblatt could try for translations that were not

greatly influenced by the American culture (Letter from Hodell to Goldblatt, May 5, 1994).

As for the translation of currency, she proposed “sticking with the Chinese units”, and

“put[ting] an appendix at the back giving a rough equivalence in U.S. money, along with any

endnote-type explanations you (Goldblatt) may feel necessary” (ibid.). As for names, her

suggestion was to “leav[e] all the names in Chinese and translat[e] them at back” (ibid.).

From Hodell’s perspective, it was important to keep the exoticness of the original. Her efforts

were designed to ensure the quality of the translated text, making it reliable and trustworthy

for domestic readers. When dealing with the repetition in Mo Yan’s “scenic” writing - which

means the scene itself is also a character, a prominent feature of Mo Yan’s writing style -

Hodell believed that this kind of description of environment and circumstances “slows the

pace to the point where the narrative drive is lost”, so she tried to “cut judiciously so none of

the atmosphere is lost but the story also moves briskly enough to keep the reader’s eyes from

making great jumps down the page” (ibid.). Hodell also edited some chronologically bizarre

details and inconsistency in the author’s description, “for clarity and consistence. … [and] did

the minimal alterations necessary to make it read smoothly” (ibid.).

When it comes to the original end of the novel, Hodell and Graham both felt that “it didn’t

have the same power as the rest of the novel: Mo Yan seems to lay down all the threads he’s

tied together so carefully, and relies on the trick of the courtroom speech and newspaper

article to make a tidy conclusion” (Letter from Hodell to Goldblatt, May 5, 1994). Hodell

thought they would have to ask Mo Yan to fix it. What she and Graham wanted to see was “an

account of what judgement the garlic protesters do get … [to] let the characters show us what

to feel, instead of having a speech tell us” (ibid.; emphasis original). In a letter of May 9, 1994,

from Graham to Goldblatt, Graham also expressed her attitude towards the questions

proposed by Hodell. She agreed with Hodell that “sometimes the language just seems too

idiomatic or (American) cliched”, it is necessary to find out “whether there is any other

alternative to the original Chinese”. She pointed out the same problems as Hodell had

mentioned, such as “landscape is itself a character” which can be cut to speed up the pace of

the plot, the occasional details which were lost in the flashbacks within flashbacks; the




chronological confusion and, most importantly, the “last 25 pages”. Graham said that they

really wanted to know what happened to the main characters of the novel and they felt “totally

cheated and … betrayed”. She asked Goldblatt if he could convince Mo Yan to “end with the

story a bit more”. In a letter of June 15, 1994 from Mo Yan to Goldblatt (Folder 2

Correspondence, Box 7 Mo Yan, Author Series), Mo Yan stated that,

我重写了第二十章……毫无疑问现在的第 20章比原先的结局要圆满的多了，

要漂亮的多了。希望您能不辞辛苦，把这一部分全译出来。个别地方，如您

认为不合适，请尽管修改。 I rewrote Chapter 20 ... There is no doubt that the current ending is much more

complete and beautiful than the original one. I hope that you could spare no effort

to translate this part. In some places, if you think it is inappropriate, please do not

hesitate to modify it. (my translation)

Mo Yan rewrote Chapter 20 of this novel and asked Goldblatt to translate it into English. All

the Chinese reprinted versions of this novel issued after the publication of the English

translation adopted this new ending.

These three letters reflect the translation product as the output of multiple agents, and even the

potential influence of international editors/publisher on the writing of the original author. The

editor negotiated with the translator in terms of the structure, style and register of the

translated text in order to reduce its flaws and sweep away the obstacles for the target

receivers’ understanding. The norms that governed translators to render Chinese literary

works into English were to rewrite the original and make it read like a work originally

produced in English (Duke 1990; Jenner 1990; Balcom 2008). While Goldblatt rewrote the

original and remained invisible behind the text, the editors thought some of Goldblatt’s

translations were too American for a foreign literary work. The editor and the publisher knew

well what kind of novel could attract the readers’ attention and sell well, so they imposed their

rules and norms on the translator. Mo Yan and Goldblatt agreed to change the end of this

novel, because only by complying with the norms imposed by the publisher, could this

translation project be continued. In this way, they can acquire capital from participation and

improve their positions in the network. The editor, who normally at the request of the

publisher, attempted to render the translation into a readable and marketable product, ensuring

that the cultural capital can be successfully converted into economic capital. Although the

translator is the only one who had the bilingual ability and bicultural knowledge to do the

translating job, it is the publisher who shaped the production of the translation from the




outside.

3.3 Packaging and marketing

When the translated text was ready to be published, what the literary agent and the publisher

competed for was how to package and market the translated text. “Marketing comprises a

range of activities concerned with informing potential customers of the availability of a book

and encouraging them to buy it” (Thompson 2010: 21). The paratext, specifically the peritext

like the book cover, preface and afterword, is “the zone that is the direct and principal …

responsibility of the publisher” (Genette 1997:16), which can function as a marketing tool to

help sell the cultural product. If target readers are not familiar with the source language, text

and culture; paratexts – which are intentionally crafted by the publisher, can guide the readers’

perception and understanding of the translated text.

Even after Garlic was published, there were conflicts between the literary agent and the

publisher about how to package and market this book. Two major problems that Dijkstra

concerned about were how Viking could make use of 1) the fact that Mo Yan could not get out

of China to visit the US, 2) the praise “If I were to choose a Nobel Laureate, it would be Mo

Yan” bestowed by the Japanese Nobel Laureate Kenzaburo Oe (Letter from Dijkstra to Paul

Sovak, May 16, 1995; Letter from Dijkstra to Grossman, July 5, 1995; Folder 2

Correspondence, Box 7 Mo Yan, Author Series). As for the first point, Dijkstra considered the

fact that Mo Yan could not travel to the US as a selling point, suggesting Viking to “pitch a

profile of an author whose [sic] unable to stand on American soil for his portrait”, or

alternatively that Barbara Grossman and Goldblatt could “craft such a profile and sent it out

to the booksellers nationwide, with the word WANTED plastered across the top” (Letter from

Dijkstra to Paul Sovak, May 16, 1995). As for the second point, Dijkstra suggested that

Viking should spend money on getting “the Oe quote into even small ads in the NYT daily”

(ibid.). She claimed that “Mo Yan IS the most likely candidate for the Nobel”, so she felt

“amazing that Viking elected to hide [the Oe] quote INSIDE the jacket” (Letter from Dijkstra

to Grossman, July 5, 1995, emphasis original) of Garlic rather than on the book cover of it.

She questioned Viking’s seriousness and interest in continuing to publish Mo Yan. She made a

list of reviews on Mo Yan from The New York Times, Washington Post, Kenzaburo Oe, etc.,

insisting Viking to “make use of these amazing quotes in a series of ads which announce to

the American public the international importance of this writer” (ibid.). At last Dijkstra




expressed her attitude towards the future plans to publish Mo Yan, saying that Goldblatt was

working on a synopsis of Mo Yan’s next novel, which was “considered to be Mo Yan’s most

important novel, but you need to give him and us a reason to stay at Viking” (ibid.). In a letter

of July 5, 1995 (Folder 2 Correspondence, Box 7 Mo Yan, Author Series), Grossman replied

to Dijkstra, claiming that they were serious about publishing Mo Yan, but she did not think

more advertising would help sell more copies in hardcover and paperback either at that time

or in the future.

These three letters illustrate that the literary agent and the publisher were motivated by

different interests when making the translated text circulate in the literary market. The literary

agent believed that by using various marketing tools and strategies, they could raise the sales

figures of the book and make the author known to the American general reading public.

However, the publisher did not want to invest in the translation project any longer because

they did not believe the book could sell well through more marketing strategies. In the end, it

was the publisher who had the power to shape the fate of the translation. What the literary

agent and the publisher competed for was still the economic capital, because the capital

generated from (potential) literary success could be converted into an accumulation of capital

in the future. The conflicts, struggle and divergence between the translator, literary agent, and

the publisher suggest that it became difficult for them to find mutual interests and goals. In the

translation project of Mo Yan’s next novel The Republic of Wine, although it was originally

sold to Viking, the contract was terminated and sold to the Arcade Publishing House. The

translation network of agents was formed because of their common interests, but it only

existed temporarily. If agreement between the different parties could not be achieved, the

network would be dissolved and a new translation network would be formed.

Another point suggested by these letters is that the translator also became a kind of

promotional capital for the marketing of the author and the translated book. In Dijkstra’s

letters, she mentioned several times that Goldblatt should become involved in marketing

activities promoting Mo Yan, for example, designing posters and leaflets. Although there are

not many details of the specific role Goldblatt played in marketing, we can speculate that the

capital he gained in the translation field would increase Mo Yan’s visibility in the US literary

market. For example, as a famous literary translator, his translation could become an

endorsement of the translated book (his symbolic capital would be transferred into the

translated product and author); he could write book reviews or critical essays to guide the




readers’ perception of the translated book (cultural capital); as a research professor in Chinese

literature, he could set courses on the works and authors he has translated (academic capital).

With Goldblatt becoming more famous, he could play an increasingly important role in the

publishing field. In turn, the resources he gained from the published field may bring him more

translation projects, reputation and influence in the translation field. Goldblatt’s current

position as the best-known brand in the field of Chinese-English literary translation is the

explicit outcome of the accumulation of various forms of capital. This powerful and

influential status contrasts with the translator’s traditional invisible, secondary and

subordinate status.

4. Findings and Conclusion

Based on a socio-archival analysis of the translator’s correspondence, this article has

illustrated that the power conflicts in the translation project of The Garlic Ballads existed not

only between different agents, but also between different fields, namely, the translation field

and the publishing field. The translation norms and the economic aspect of the publishing

business were two important factors that caused the power conflicts among different agents.

Goldblatt’s social capital, cultural capital and habitus played an important role in the selection

of Garlic, and brought the literary agent Dijkstra into the translation network. It can be

speculated that based on a trust of Goldblatt’s reputation (symbolic capital) and translation

expertise (cultural capital), Dijkstra decided to promote and represent Mo Yan. Dijkstra was

instrumental in facilitating the commission of the translational project. Based on her

professional judgement and sales expertise, she later tried to negotiate a contract for the

author (and the translator) and urge the publisher to employ various strategies to market the

foreign author. The involvement of the literary agent in the translation network means that the

translation practice was closely linked to the publishing business, highlighting the economic

aspect of the translation practice. Although both the literary agent and the publisher

recognized the literary merit of Mo Yan and his works, the competition for different forms of

capital, particularly the economic capital, led to conflict over when to publish the book and

how to market the book. While the suggestions given by the editors seem to contradict the

universal invisible and fluent strategy discussed by Venuti (1995), their aim was to sweep

away the obstacles that would hinder the readers’ perception. In other words, the editing

process was to make the translated text meet the readers’ expectations and well-received in

the target culture. It is obvious that the publisher was the most powerful agent in the network,




while the translator only played a minor role and occupied a peripheral status in the later

stages of the translation process. It is also evident that the translation field was still very weak

within the literary field. In cases of conflict with the adjacent publishing field, the translation

field had to be subservient to it. The power conflicts and struggles between different agents

show that it is not always easy and smooth to publish a literary translation in the US market.

The translation network is formed based on the shared interests and purpose of various agents

at the intersection of the translation field and the publishing field, but if agreement cannot be

reached, the translation network will be broken.

At the time of translating and publishing Garlic, the translation field and the publishing field

were not strong enough to be independent fields themselves. Since the publication of Garlic

was only a single translational event, it seems difficult to investigate the development of

different fields or changes of agents’ positions. However, this case suggests that with more

agents getting involved in the translation activities - for example, more authors seeking global

reputation and readership, more commercial publishers being willing to publish translated

Chinese literature and realising its market potential, more institutional agents providing

funding and subsidies to translators - both the translation field and publishing field may grow

into stand-alone fields. As for the interaction between the translation field and the publishing

field, the capital gained by the translator in the translation field enabled him to pursue his

interests and his dominance in the publishing field, which may in turn enhance his position in

the translation field. In comparison to the translator’s traditional invisible and submissive

status, Goldblatt’s trajectory shows that the translator can also become a powerful and

influential brand. As for the literary agent, her collaboration with Goldblatt opened up new

opportunities for her, with translated Chinese literature as an underexplored market. The

potential success of the authors and the works she represented strengthened her partnership

with the author, translator and publisher (social capital); earned her more contracts and

translation projects (economic capital), and a reputation as an expert in spotting and

marketing Chinese authors and literary works (symbolic capital). The publisher Viking’s

choices told a different story. Before the project of Garlic, Viking has already possessed a

dominant position in the publishing field. Although publishing works of a (potential)

brand-name author can earn them symbolic capital, they paid more attention to the economic

costs. Different from existing research which only focused on the textual aspects of

Goldblatt’s translation, this article shows that the translation is shaped through the

collaboration and competition between multiple agents and archival materials are essential




sources to unravel the underlying factors that influence the agents’ behaviour and

decision-making.

Acknowledgement

I am grateful to the reviewers and editors for their valuable comments and suggestions. I am

also grateful to the Great Britain-China Education Trust for their financial support towards my

Ph.D. study. I also acknowledge Professor Jonathan Stalling, the curator of the Chinese

Literature Translation Archive, for allowing me to use the archival materials, as well as Dr.

Frances Weightman and Dr. Pei Meng for their constructive comments.

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Remy Attig, Abstract of Ph.D. thesis i

Translation in the Borderlands of Spanish:

Balancing Power in English Translations

from Judeo-Spanish and Spanglish

Remy Attig

Saint Francis Xavier University, CANADA

[email protected]

ABSTRACT

Literature emerging from borderland, transnational or diaspora contexts does not always fit the

mould of the dominant national culture where the author resides. Usually this literature is published

in the language of the larger society, but sometimes authors prefer to use the language variety in

which they write as one of many tools to resist assimilation and highlight their independent or

hybrid identity; such is the case with Matilda Koén-Sarano's Judeo-Spanish folktales and Susana

Chávez-Silverman’s Spanglish crónicas, which are the focus of this study. In both cases the authors

undermine the prevailing power structures of the societies in which they live in order to prioritize

their own linguistic identities. Given this, if there is any hope that the reader of the translation will

understand the contribution of the work to the source culture, translation from these varieties must

be done in a way that preserves the resistance to assimilation in a different linguistic context. The

overarching goal of this study is to present a critical framework that translators and Translation

Studies scholars can use to reflect on how such literature, that has received relatively little critical

attention to date, can be approached in a way that is mindful of the larger intersecting cultural

concerns. This study is timely as more and more literature is emerging in transnational Spanish

varieties such as Judeo-Spanish, Spanglish, and Portuñol and with an increase in production may

come an increasing demand for translation.

In this thesis I draw from postcolonial and borderlands theories to understand the tools available

to the translator for approaching literature such as this. I begin with a sociolinguistic description

that defines Judeo-Spanish and Spanglish as language varieties, considers who uses them and who

writes in them. I then lean on Literary Studies and Jewish and Latinx Studies to understand the

political context and personal motivations of the authors. I then problematize the broad issue of

translating texts written in nonstandard language varieties into a global language. I consider power

in translation generally and into English more specifically and nuance the binary between rejecting

translation completely, as some theorists may suggest, and embracing it wholeheartedly as

essential. In the final two chapters I turn my attention to specific challenges that presented


Remy Attig, Abstract of Ph.D. thesis ii

themselves in English translations from Judeo-Spanish and Spanglish and explain how these

challenges informed my approaches and strategies.

No single translation approach or strategy emerges as a monolithic solution to all of the problems

that this thesis raises. Nevertheless, my original contribution to knowledge lies in the critical

approach to translation and unconventional applications of varying degrees of ethnolects (or

literary dialects), Global Englishes, writing based in phonetics, and intralinguistic translation that

are explained and that are illustrated in the original translations found in the appendices. While

translators rarely use such literary devices, this study shows that at times such approaches to

translation may be among the few tools available to convey the linguistic resistance in the source

text into a different cultural context.

KEYWORDS: Ethnolects; hybridity; Jewish studies; Latinx studies; postcolonial theories;

transnationalism

Completion of Thesis

Place : University of Ottawa

Year : 2018

Supervisors : Associate Professor Clara Foz

Assistant Professor James Nelson Novoa

Original Language : English


Remy Attig, Abstract of Ph.D. thesis iii

Traducir en las fronteras del español:

El equilibrio de poder en las traducciones hacia el inglés de textos en

judeoespañol y spanglish

RESUMEN

La literatura que emerge de contextos fronterizos, transnacionales o diaspóricos no siempre se

conforma con las expectativas de la cultura nacional dominante del país donde reside el autor.

Aunque esta literatura se suele publicar en la lengua de prestigio de la sociedad en su conjunto, a

veces los autores prefieren usar la variedad lingüística en la que escriben como una de las muchas

herramientas para resistir la asimilación o resaltar sus identidades independientes o híbridas. Así

es el caso con los cuentos tradicionales judeoespañoles de Matilda Koén-Sarano y las crónicas en

spanglish de Susana Chávez-Silverman, en los cuales se enfoca este estudio. En ambos casos las

autoras socavan las estructuras de poder establecidas de las sociedades en las que viven,

priorizando en su lugar sus propias identidades lingüísticas. Ante esta situación para que exista la

posibilidad de que el lector de la traducción entienda la contribución de la obra a la cultura de la

cual emergió, el traductor de estas variedades lingüísticas debe asegurarse de preservar la

resistencia a la asimilación en un contexto lingüístico diferente. El objetivo principal del presente

estudio es desarrollar un marco crítico al que pueden recurrir traductores y traductólogos para

considerar cómo esta literatura, que hasta la fecha ha recibido poca atención académica, puede

traducirse de manera atenta a las preocupaciones culturales de la fuente. Este estudio emerge en el

momento oportuno dado que se publica cada vez más literatura en variedades transnacionales del

español como, por ejemplo, el judeoespañol, el spanglish, o el portuñol y es posible que este auge

de producción venga acompañado por una demanda más alta de traducción.

Esta tesis emplea teorías poscoloniales y fronterizas (borderlands) para contextualizar las

herramientas disponibles al traductor que se acerca a esta literatura. Empezando por una

descripción sociolingüística se define el judeoespañol y el spanglish como variedades lingüísticas

y se reseña a los hablantes y escritores de ambos. Luego se recurre a estudios literarios, hebraicos,

y Latinx (latinos estadounidenses) para entender el contexto político y las motivos de los autores.

Se problematiza la decisión de traducir textos escritos en variedades lingüísticas no estandarizadas

hacia un idioma global considerando la relación entre el poder y la traducción de manera general

y, más específicamente, en el contexto del inglés. Luego, se matiza la dicotomía entre el rechazo

total de la traducción, como sugieren algunos teóricos, y la invitación con entusiasmo de ella como

esencial o necesaria. Los últimos dos capítulos se concentran en los problemas específicos que

hubo que considerar al traducir desde el judeoespañol o el spanglish hacia el inglés. Finalmente se

explica cómo dichos problemas se manifestaron en los acercamientos y en las estrategias

empleados.


Remy Attig, Abstract of Ph.D. thesis iv

No emerge ningún acercamiento ni ninguna estrategia que responda a todos los problemas que

plantea esta tesis. Sin embargo, su contribución original queda en el enfoque crítico en la

traducción y el uso innovador de etnolectos (o dialectos literarios), Global Englishes, formas de

escribir basadas en la fonética, y la traducción intralingüística que son todos explicados y

empleados en las traducciones originales que se encuentran en los apéndices. Aunque pocos

traductores emplean estas técnicas, el presente estudio demuestra que, a veces, son las pocas

opciones disponibles para captar en un contexto cultural nuevo la resistencia lingüística de la

fuente.


Engliana, Abstract of Ph.D. thesis i

Cognitive Behaviors in the Translation Process:

A Case Study of Student Translators

Engliana

Universitas Indraprasta PGRI, INDONESIA

[email protected]

ABSTRACT

Studying the cognitive translation process of student translators can offer valuable research

insight, as this category of translators is more likely to share with researchers the challenges

faced and successes achieved when completing a translation task. Previous studies have been

rather inconclusive in providing a basic process model representing the mental operation of

student translators in classroom practice. Therefore, the goal of this study is to build a model

for the process of translation based on data gathered from the observable behaviors of student

translators. The process comprises four translation stages: comprehending, transferring,

restructuring, and editing. The research adopts Nida’s theoretical construct of the translation

process as a starting point and leverages two psychological models namely Attkinson-Shiffrin’s

memory model and the Craik and Lockhart’s information processing model to identify and

analyze the cognitive behaviors of student translators. Four student translators completing their

postgraduate program in Translation Studies were selected as respondents and asked to translate

an English text into Indonesian. The methods used for collecting the data are (a) direct

observations (e.g., screen recording, room observation, keyboard logging); (b) personal

background questionnaire; (c) predicted behavior observation checklist; (d) interviews –

conducted to elicit information on the way the respondents perceived their actions during the

process. The study found that the cognitive behaviors at the comprehending stage include

planning behavior, analyzing behavior, and executing behavior. The comprehending stage was

a planning phase for gathering information on the source text, i.e., to identify and establish the

relationship between words and the combination of words in the entire text. The cognitive

behaviors at the transferring stage were decision-making behavior and referencing behavior.

The transferring stage was a phase where the respondents made decisions on how both explicit

and implicit messages of the source text can be produced in the target text. The restructuring

stage involved producing behavior and decision-making behavior. Cognitive behaviors at this

stage were mostly influenced by the respondents’ knowledge structures which were previously

planned and outlined in the comprehending and transferring stages. The editing stage involved

adjusting behavior and comparing behavior. Issues such as accuracy, consistency, and style

were the focal points of this stage. The behaviors showed that the translation process was not

linear. Competence, language fluency, role awareness, and cognitive components were

categories that influenced the students’ behaviors. A better understanding of cognitive

behaviors in the translation process may assist teachers and trainers in planning and developing


Engliana, Abstract of Ph.D. thesis ii

effective classroom activities. As for student translators, the proposed model can serve as a

guide for completing translation tasks successfully.

KEYWORDS: Cognitive behavior; observation; student translator; stages of translation

process


Place : Atma Jaya Catholic University of Indonesia

Year : 2017

Supervisors : Professor Bahren Umar Siregar, Ph.D.

Katharina Endriati Sukamto, Ph.D.



Engliana, Abstract of Ph.D. thesis iii

Perilaku Kognitif dalam Proses Penerjemahan:

Studi Kasus Terhadap Siswa Penerjemahan

ABSTRAK

Mempelajari proses penerjemahan kognitif siswa penerjemah dapat menawarkan wawasan

penelitian yang berharga karena penelitian penerjemah ini dapat memberi hasil tentang

tantangan yang dihadapi dan keberhasilan yang dicapai ketika menyelesaikan tugas

penerjemahan. Penelitian serupa sebelumnya belum eksplisit menyediakan suatu model proses

dasar yang mewakili operasi mental siswa penerjemah saat praktik di ruang kelas. Oleh karena

itu, tujuan dari penelitian ini adalah untuk membangun model untuk proses penerjemahan

berdasarkan data yang dikumpulkan dari pengamatan perilaku para siswa penerjemah. Proses

ini terdiri dari empat tahap terjemahan: Memahami, Mentransfer, Merestrukturisasi, dan

Menyunting. Sebagai titik awal, penelitian ini mengadopsi konstruksi proses penerjemahan

teoretis dari Nida dan memanfaatkan dua model teori memori dari Attkinson-Shiffrin dan

model pemrosesan informasi Craik dan Lockhart untuk mengidentifikasi dan menganalisis

perilaku kognitif siswa penerjemah. Empat siswa penerjemah yang menyelesaikan program

pascasarjana mereka dalam Studi Penerjemahan dipilih sebagai responden dan diminta untuk

menerjemahkan teks bahasa Inggris ke bahasa Indonesia. Metode yang digunakan untuk

mengumpulkan data adalah (a) pengamatan langsung (mis., Perekaman layar komputer,

pengamatan langsung, perekaman papan ketik); (b) kuesioner latar belakang pribadi; (c) daftar

periksa pengamatan perilaku yang terprediksi; (d) wawancara - dilakukan untuk memperoleh

informasi tentang cara responden memandang tindakan mereka selama proses penerjemahan.

Studi ini menemukan bahwa perilaku kognitif pada tahap pemahaman meliputi perilaku

perencanaan, menganalisis perilaku, dan perilaku mengeksekusi. Tahap memahami adalah fase

perencanaan untuk mengumpulkan informasi tentang teks sumber, yaitu, untuk

mengidentifikasi dan membangun hubungan antara kata-kata dan kombinasi kata-kata dalam

seluruh teks. Perilaku kognitif pada tahap transfer adalah perilaku pengambilan keputusan dan

perilaku referensi. Tahap transfer adalah fase di mana responden membuat keputusan tentang

bagaimana pesan eksplisit dan implisit dari teks sumber dapat diproduksi dalam teks target.

Tahap restrukturisasi melibatkan perilaku memproduksi dan perilaku pengambilan keputusan.

Perilaku kognitif pada tahap ini sebagian besar dipengaruhi oleh struktur pengetahuan

responden yang sebelumnya direncanakan dan diuraikan dalam tahap memahami dan

mentransfer. Tahap penyuntingan melibatkan perilaku penyesuaian dan perilaku

membandingkan. Masalah-masalah seperti akurasi, konsistensi, dan gaya teks adalah titik fokus

dari tahap ini. Perilaku-perilaku dari empat tahap tersebut menunjukkan bahwa proses

penerjemahan tidak bersifat linier atau berbanding lurus. Kompetensi, kelancaran berbahasa,

kesadaran peran, dan komponen kognitif adalah kategori yang mempengaruhi perilaku siswa.

Pemahaman yang lebih baik tentang perilaku kognitif dalam proses penerjemahan dapat

membantu guru dan pelatih dalam merencanakan dan mengembangkan kegiatan kelas yang

efektif. Sedangkan untuk siswapenerjemah, model yang diusulkan dapat berfungsi sebagai

panduan untuk menyelesaikan tugas terjemahan dengan sukses.


Yang Li, Abstract of Ph.D. thesis i

The Operational Norms of Prefabricated Chunks in Chinese-

English Consecutive Interpreting: A Corpus-based Approach

Yang Li

Northeastern University, CHINA

[email protected]

ABSTRACT

The dissertation offers a descriptive investigation of the operational norms of recurring 4-gram

prefabricated chunks (PCs), or lexical bundles of high frequency, produced by institutional

interpreters in China. PCs, as part of continuous multi-word units, are claimed to be stored and

retrieved as a whole without grammatical analysis, and processed faster than other units of low

frequency. Admittedly, interpreters resort to highly recurring PCs labelled as ‘stock phrases’ or

‘formula’. Translational relationships, including equivalence and explicitation, are described

between the English interpreted PCs and corresponding translation units in the Chinese source

texts. To better understand the operational norms of PCs in interpreting, I illustrate that both

equivalent and additive uses of PCs are attributable to improving coherence and cohesion in the

interpreter-mediated communication. Also, they help enhance accuracy and homogeneity across

the interpreters in that PCs retrieved from a specific corpus represent the normative use rather than

the idiosyncratic or stylistic preferences.

The first chapter reviews the theoretical significance of PCs in previous interpreting studies,

practice and training. However, few quantitative and qualitative studies have focused on describing

PCs in real on-site interpreting. So far, no reduplicated methods have made any systematic

classifications of PCs. In chapter 2, the related literature in second language acquisition,

psycholinguistics and corpus linguistics underscore that PCs contribute to improving the quality

of oral production, i.e. fluency and accuracy. This therefore sheds light on interpreting as an

analytical framework. Chapter 3 introduces the taxonomy (Biber et al. 2004) for four discourse

functions performed by PCs or lexical bundles. Following that, 224 4-gram PCs of 2726 tokens

were retrieved from a parallel, self-compiled 1998-2014 Chinese-English Interpreting Corpus of

Premier Press Conferences. Chapter 4 finds that the most used techniques for PCs are literal

translation and addition, based on the statistics of the translational mappings, and presents an

exemplified analysis on the functional characteristics of PCs in interpreting. Functioning as

obligation, prediction and ability, stance PCs mainly filled with modal verbs help interpreters

mediate interpersonal relations between the Premier and the audience. Similarly, functioning as

greetings, introduction, thanks and announcement, special conversational PCs are usually the pre-

sequences in textual make-up to begin the question-and-answer session. Moreover, PCs of


Yang Li, Abstract of Ph.D. thesis ii

discourse organizers partially consisting of subject and predicate serve as cohesive and coherent

devices to facilitate receivers’ understanding of the rendition. In relation to such properties as

quantity, shape, time or place, referential PCs tend to make the rendition accurate and

homogeneous. Finally, chapter 5 discusses the major motivations behind the operational norms for

PCs. To overcome memory- and time-related constraints in interpreting, interpreters tend to

literally render PCs as effortless, even automatic, production, substituting PCs for lexical units to

lengthen coherent and cohesive devices (i.e. and → as well as the), and repetitively adding PCs to

a co-text, e.g. to cut a Chinese sentence with one subject and many predicates into independent

target sentences. The two norms aim at buying more time to reduce cognitive load in interpreting.

KEYWORDS: 4-gram prefabricated chunks; high frequency; interpreting corpus; operational

norms


Place : Guangdong University of Foreign Studies, mainland China

Year : 2016

Supervisor : Prof. Zhong Weihe

Original Language : Chinese

Funding

This research is supported by China's Philosophy and Social Science Fund ‘The Study on

Operational Norms of Chunks Based on Chinese-English Interpreting Corpus (17CYY052)’ and

China National Committee for Translation and Interpreting Education ‘The Corpus-based Cases

of Prefabricated Chunks in Interpreting Training (MTIJZW201804)’.


Yang Li, Abstract of Ph.D. thesis iii

汉英交替传译中预制块的操作规范研究

——基于语料库的实证考察

摘要

本论文采用描写研究考察了中国政府机构译员使用高频预制语块（prefabricated chunks，

PCs）的操作规范。预制语块也是高频率的词簇。预制语块作为一种连续的多词单位，被认为是

整体存储和提取的，不需要语法分析即可使用，并且与低频率的词汇结构相比，加工速度更快。

实际上，译员重复使用的预制语块也被称为“习惯用语”或“程式语”。本研究描写了英语译语

的预制语块和对应的汉语源语翻译单位之间的翻译关系，主要包括对等和显化。为了更好地了解

预制语块在口译中的操作规范，本研究通过例证法，论证预制语块的对等和增添能有助于译员在

协调口译交际时保持译语的连贯与衔接。同时，由于预制语块是从专门语料库中获得，能体现规

范化的使用方法，而非译员个人偏好或口译风格，所以预制语块能提高不同译员之间译语的准确

性和同质性。

第一章回顾了已有口译研究、口译实践和口译训练，明确了预制语块的理论重要性。但是，

鲜有量化和质性研究描写现场口译中预制语块的具体使用情况。目前，仍缺乏可重复验证的方法

对口译预制语块进行系统分类。第二章综述了二语习得、心理语言学和语料库语言学的相关文

献，发现预制语块能提高口语产出的质量，如流利性和准确性。因此，这可作为口译预制语块研

究的分析框架。第三章介绍了预制语块（或词簇）四种话语功能的分类体系（Biber et al.

2004）。之后，本研究自建了“1998-2014 总理记者招待会汉英平行口译语料库”，从中提取了

224 个 4 词预制语块，总形符为 2726。第四章基于翻译关系的统计，发现预制语块最常使用的翻

译技巧是直译和增译。另一方面，第四章通过举例分析了口译中预制语块的话语功能特点。具体

而言，站位情态类预制语块主要填充了情态动词，具有表达义务、预测和能力的功能，帮助译员

协调总理和听众之间的人际关系。相似地，用于专门对话的预制语块能表达问候、介绍、致谢和

宣布，通常是语篇组织中的前序列结构，能开启总理和记者之间的问答交际。此外，语篇组织类

预制语块部分包括了主语和谓语结构，能作为连贯和衔接手段组织语篇信息，使接收者易于理解

译语。指示参照类预制语块与物体的属性有关，说明了数量、形状、时间或地点等信息。它们保

证了不同译员之间译语的准确性和同质性。最后，第五章讨论了预制语块操作规范的主要动因。

为了克服口译过程中记忆和时间的限制因素，译员倾向使用预制语块进行直译，作为一种节省精

力，甚至是自动化的口译产出。译员还倾向用预制语块代替词级单位以拉长连贯与衔接手段（如

and 被替换为 as well as the）。同时，译员倾向在上下文中重复使用预制语块进行增译，如将一个

含有主语和多个谓语的汉语句子切分为多个独立的译语句子。这两种操作规范能为译员赢取更多

的时间，以降低口译的认知压力。

关键词：4 词预制语块，高频率，口译语料库，操作规范


Pedro Jesús Castillo Ortiz, Abstract of Ph.D. thesis i

Interpreting in the Media: Organisational, Interactional and

Discursive Aspects of Dialogue Interpreting in Radio Settings

A Study of Spain's Radio 3

Pedro Jesús Castillo Ortiz

Universidad de Granada, SPAIN

[email protected], [email protected]

ABSTRACT

This thesis aims to uncover and explain how interpreter-mediated live interviews work in

radio broadcasting, from organisational, interactional and discursive points of view. The

initial premise is that there are specific features and patterns of broadcast talk-in-interaction

when they take place in interpreter-mediated radio settings which have been explored neither

in Interpreting Studies, Media Studies nor Conversation Analysis (CA) as yet. Consequently,

I also aim at revealing modifications and adjustments to the broadcast talk practices and

organisation of broadcast events, as well as how the interpreter's interaction is influenced by

this institutional context in comparison with other contexts.

The thesis is structured as follows: chapters I, II and III include critical literature reviews of

the key areas of my research, i.e. dialogue interpreting, media interpreting and conversation

analysis, respectively. The methodology (chapter IV) involves a mixed model which is

applied to five interpreter-mediated interviews broadcast on Radio 3's El Séptimo Vicio

(ESV), from the Spanish State Broadcasting Company, RNE (chapter V). This model includes

a descriptive framework of types of interpreter-mediated interviews, to which Conversation

Analysis (CA) is applied, in order to shed light on the organisation of such events, as well as

specific interactional phenomena and patterns arising in this particular type of interpreter-

mediated event. Audiovisual recordings of one of the broadcasts and a semi-structured

interview with the host of ESV are used as corroboration for the CA. The language

combinations of the five interpreter-mediated interviews under study are Spanish-French,

Spanish-English (2 interviews), Spanish-Italian and Spanish-Farsi, respectively.

Findings and concluding remarks of the thesis (chapter VI) focus on the ‘unique fingerprint’

(Heritage and Clayman, 2010:18) of practices and interactions analysed in my data. The

findings include (1) a detailed account of the specificity of the organisation and production of

broadcast events when interpreters are required in interviews. Radio 3's communicative ethos

and conventional production practices (as thoroughly analysed in this thesis) lead to an ad

hoc stage of interpreting provision, which entails a range of broad patterns of interactions and

situational arrangements such as a variety of interpreting modality patterns, as well as

medium-specific strategies in respect of broadcasting language transfer; (2) specific


Pedro Jesús Castillo Ortiz, Abstract of Ph.D. thesis ii

interactional features and patterns which result from the interpreter-mediated event taking

place in both broad and local contexts, such as interpreters’ turn-taking devices that are closer

to those of the host than the foreign language speaking guest, thus showing an adaptation to

the medium; interpreters’ unchallenged omission of audience-oriented propositional and

relational content when rendering the host's moves to the interviewee, and the host’s

relinquishing of turns in order to avoid overlapping talk or encouraging more rapid and

dynamic exchange of turns. Within the limits of what can be generalized from the analysis of

a specific set of data, avenues for future research are sketched, and implications for public

engagement in the form of training and knowledge exchange activities which help to

consolidate the study and practice of radio interpreting as a discipline in its own right are

discussed.

KEYWORDS: Conversation analysis; dialogue interpreting; discourse studies; media

interpreting; radio


Place : Heriot-Watt University

Year : 2015

Supervisors : Dr. Raquel de Pedro Ricoy

Professor Graham Turner



Pedro Jesús Castillo Ortiz, Abstract of Ph.D. thesis iii

La interpretación en los medios de comunicación:

Aspectos organizativos, interaccionales y discursivos de la

Interpretación Bilateral en entornos radiofónicos.

Estudio de Radio 3, de Radio Nacional de España

RESUMEN

El objetivo de la presente tesis doctoral es el de investigar y explicar el funcionamiento de las

entrevistas radiofónicas mediadas por intérpretes en la radio, desde las siguientes

perspectivas: organizativa, interaccional y discursiva.

La metodología utilizada para cumplir con los objetivos establecidos consiste en un modelo

mixto que se aplica a cinco entrevistas mediadas por intérpretes, realizadas y emitidas en el

programa de Radio 3 (Radio Nacional de España, RNE), El Séptimo Vicio (ESV). El modelo

incluye un marco descriptivo de tipos de entrevistas mediadas por intérpretes a los cuales se

le aplica Análisis Conversacional (AC) con el fin de arrojar luz sobre la organización de estos

eventos comunicativos, así como sobre fenómenos y patrones interaccionales específicos de

este tipo de eventos mediados por intérpretes. Las combinaciones lingüísticas de las cinco

entrevistas mediadas por intérpretes que se han analizado son, respectivamente: castellano-

francés, castellano-inglés (2 entrevistas), castellano-italiano y castellano-farsi. El modelo

metodológico cuenta con una etapa de corroboración del AC que consiste en un análisis de la

grabación en video de una de las entrevistas radiofónicas y una entrevista semiestructurada al

realizador y presentador de ESV.

Los resultados y conclusiones de la tesis doctoral se centran en la huella genuina (Heritage

and Greatbach, 1991:95-96; Heritage and Clayman, 2010:18) que tienen las prácticas e

interacciones analizadas en los datos que forman parte de la muestra. Entre estas se pueden

destacar las siguientes: (1) un detallado análisis sobre la especificidad de la organización y

producción de retransmisiones en las que se requieren intérpretes. En este sentido, el ethos

comunicativo de la cadena y sus prácticas convencionales de producción (tal y como se

analizan en la presente tesis) llevan a que la provisión de la interpretación se encuentre en un

estadio ad hoc, lo cual implica que se den un amplio abanico de patrones amplios de

interacción y de organizaciones situacionales, tales como la variedad de modalidades de

interpretación que se pueden observar y estrategias específicas de retransmisión de la

transferencia lingüística; (2) rasgos y patrones interaccionales específicos como resultado de

un acontecimiento mediado por intérpretes que tiene lugar tanto en el contexto amplio como

en el específico, a saber: mecanismos de toma de turnos por parte de los intérpretes que son

más similares a los del presentador que a los de los invitados que hablan una lengua

extranjera, de modo que se muestra una adaptación al medio de comunicación; omisiones por

parte del intérprete de fragmentos elucidados por el presentador que están orientados a la

audiencia o con un contenido relacional entre presentador e invitado/a y que ni se cuestionan


Pedro Jesús Castillo Ortiz, Abstract of Ph.D. thesis iv

ni plantean problemas en el flujo de la comunicación; renuncias al turno por parte del

presentador para evitar solapamiento de voces y petición activa del presentador a los

intérpretes para un intercambio de turnos de palabra más dinámico y rápido. Dentro de los

límites que puede presentar la generalización del análisis de una muestra de datos específicos,

se esbozan líneas de investigación futuras y las potenciales implicaciones de un estudio como

este en cuanto a su diseminación y aplicación práctica en forma de actividades de formación

y transmisión del conocimiento. Estas pueden contribuir a consolidar el estudio y la práctica

de la interpretación en la radio como una disciplina específica dentro de la interpretación.


Uchenna Oyali, Abstract of Ph.D. thesis

i

Bible Translation and Language Elaboration: The Igbo Experience

Uchenna Oyali University of Abuja, Nigeria

uoyali(a)yahoo.com

ABSTRACT

This study posits that the translation of the Bible into the Igbo language engendered the elaboration

of the language to enable it to express the ideas and concepts borne in the Christian religion.

Language elaboration, as used in this work, refers to the expansion of the functions of a language,

i.e. use of the language in new domains, introduction of new lexical and semantic elements to the

repertoire of the language. Four research questions guided the analysis carried out in the work:

What lexical processes were adopted in creating new terms in Bible translation into Igbo? What

strategies were employed in representing Christian concepts in the Bible translations? How have

these lexical and conceptual innovations evolved across the different translations? How have the

lexical and conceptual innovations spread among Igbo speakers? To answer these questions, two

types of analysis are carried out: a textual analysis of a corpus of terms created and introduced into

Igbo through eight Igbo Bible translations, and an analysis of a questionnaire survey on the spread

of some of these new terms and concepts in contemporary Igbo usage. Findings show that the

Bible translations enriched the Igbo lexicon mainly through the processes of compounding,

descriptive phrases and lexical borrowing. Secondly, the translations introduced Christian

concepts into Igbo mainly by appropriating existing terms for Igbo concepts and giving them new

significations in the Igbo Bible. Thirdly, later translations lexically and semantically differentiated

Christian concepts from traditional Igbo concepts. They also differentiated two Christian concepts

by representing them with distinct terms where the earlier translations represented the concepts

with the same term, thereby facilitating the emergence of an Igbo Christian register. Fourthly,

some of the Biblical innovations are restricted to use within Christian religious contexts, thereby

suggesting the emergence of an Igbo Christian register. However, many others have spread into



ii

Igbo beyond their use in the Bible and some have acquired new meanings in the language and also

got entries in Igbo dictionaries.

KEYWORDS: Bible translation, language elaboration, cultural appropriation, Igbo, retranslation,

language change


Place: Bayreuth International Graduate School of African Studies (BIGSAS), University

of Bayreuth, Germany

Year: 2018

Supervisors: PD Dr. Eric A. Anchimbe (Supervisor)

Prof. Dr. Susanne Mühleisen (Mentor)

Prof. Dr. Eva Spies (Mentor)

Original Language: English



iii

Bibelübersetzung und Sprachausarbeitung: Die Igbo-Erfahrung

ZUSAMMENFASSUNG

Diese Studie geht davon aus, dass die Übersetzung der Bibel in die Sprache Igbo zur Ausarbeitung

der Sprache geführt hat, um die Ideen und Konzepte der christlichen Religion zum Ausdruck zu

bringen. Sprachausarbeitung, wie sie in dieser Arbeit verwendet wird, bezieht sich auf die

Erweiterung der Funktionen einer Sprache, d. h. Verwendung der Sprache in neuen Bereichen,

Einführung neuer lexikalischer und semantischer Elemente in das Sprachrepertoire. Vier

Forschungsfragen leiteten die in der Arbeit durchgeführte Analyse: Welche lexikalischen Prozesse

wurden zur Schaffung neuer Begriffe in der Bibelübersetzung in Igbo übernommen? Welche

Strategien wurden angewandt, um christliche Konzepte in den Bibelübersetzungen darzustellen?

Wie haben sich diese lexikalischen und konzeptionellen Innovationen in den verschiedenen

Übersetzungen entwickelt? Wie haben sich die lexikalischen und konzeptionellen Innovationen

unter den Igbo verbreitet? Um diese Fragen zu beantworten, werden zwei Arten von Analysen

durchgeführt: eine Textanalyse eines Korpus von Begriffen, die durch acht Igbo-

Bibelübersetzungen in Igbo erstellt und eingeführt wurden, und eine Analyse einer

Fragebogenumfrage zur Verbreitung einiger dieser neuen Begriffe und Konzepte im

zeitgenössischen Igbo Sprachgebrauch. Die Ergebnisse zeigen, dass die Bibelübersetzungen das

Igbo-Lexikon hauptsächlich durch die Prozesse des Zusammensetzens, deskriptiver Phrasen und

der lexikalischen Ausleihe bereicherten. Zweitens führten die Übersetzungen christliche Konzepte

in Igbo Sprache ein, hauptsächlich durch Aneignung bestehender Begriffe von Igbo-Konzepte und

durch neue Bedeutungen in der Igbo-Bibel. Drittens unterschieden spätere Übersetzungen

lexikalisch und semantisch christliche Konzepte von traditionellen Igbo-Konzepten. Sie

unterschieden auch zwei christliche Begriffe, indem sie mit unterschiedlichen Begriffen dargestellt

wurden, wobei die früheren Übersetzungen die Begriffe mit demselben Begriff repräsentierten,

wodurch die Entstehung eines christlichen Igbo-Registers erleichtert wurde. Viertens sind einige

der biblischen Neuerungen auf den Einsatz in christlichen religiösen Kontexten beschränkt, was

auf die Entstehung eines christlichen Igbo-Registers hindeutet. Viele andere haben sich in Igbo

über den Gebrauch in der Bibel hinaus verbreitet und einige haben neue Bedeutungen in der

Sprache erlangt und auch Einträge in Igbo-Wörterbüchern erhalten.



iv

STICHWÖRTER: Bibelübersetzung, Sprachausarbeitung, kulturelle Vereinnahmung, Igbo,

Neuübersetzung, Sprachveränderung

Abschluss der Doktorarbeit

Stadt: Bayreuth International Graduate School of African Studies (BIGSAS), Universität

Bayreuth, Deutschland

Jahr: 2018

Aufsichtsbehörden: PD Dr. Eric A. Anchimbe (Betreuer)

Prof. Dr. Susanne Mühleisen (Mentorin)

Prof. Dr. Eva Spies (Mentorin)

Dissertationssprache: Englisch


Annie Rachel Royson, Abstract of Ph.D. thesis i

Texts and Traditions in Seventeenth Century Goa:

Reading Cultural Translation, Sacredness, and Transformation in

the Kristapuraṇa of Thomas Stephens S.J.

Annie Rachel Royson

Pandit Deendayal Petroleum University, INDIA

[email protected]; [email protected]

ABSTRACT

The thesis is a critical study of Kristapuraṇa (1616), a seventeenth century retelling of the biblical

narrative in the Marathi language composed by the Jesuit missionary, Thomas Stephens.

Stephens’s poetic composition is one of the earliest printed works in South Asia. In this thesis,

Kristapuraṇa, is studied as a work of cultural translation. The study highlights the methods that

early missionaries adopted to negotiate the complexities of cultural encounters. The meeting

between Christianity and ancient sacred traditions that existed in colonial centres such as

Portuguese Goa gave rise to novel translation “strategies” to convince the masses regarding the

significance of Christianity and to negotiate the stringent regulations laid down by the Church. The

transformation of Stephens, an English Jesuit, from a traveller to a poet-priest-translator is treated

as key to understanding the cultural translation undertaken in Kristapuraṇa. The language of the

text and the Roman script in which it was first printed are significant in understanding the socio-

political background against which Stephens’s text was composed. The routes by which early

Christian texts in South Asia travelled is also studied, with Kristapuraṇa as the epicentre for

analysis.

Travel, transformation, genre, and landscapes are the lenses through which the concept of cultural

translation has been approached in this thesis. The anxieties faced by both the translator and the

“translated” in the process of grappling with the “sacred” are important concerns of this study.

Select verses from the ten thousand nine hundred and sixty-two verses of Kristapuraṇa have been

translated into English in this study, to bring out the nuances of the text and to augment the

conceptual arguments put forward by the thesis.

In Kristapuraṇa, Stephens made use of the puranic genre to negotiate the spaces between

Christianity and Hinduism. Stephens chose to call his composition a “Puraṇa”, placing it firmly

within the tradition of puranic texts and the conventions of sacredness attached to the tradition by

the locals. He negotiated two sacred textual traditions—the biblical and the puranic—and both the

biblical narrative and the genre of Puranas are transformed in this process of translation. In this


Annie Rachel Royson, Abstract of Ph.D. thesis ii

context, a strand of this thesis analyses the novelization of the puranic genre in Kristapuraṇa. In

addition to these aspects, Stephens’s text opens a site that reveals the centrality of landscapes in

the colonial enterprise, the fascination with distant geographies, and the transformation of the

physical and cultural landscapes of conquered regions. The vast deserts, tropical gardens, and

desolate cities in this narrative reveal a constant process of travel across space and time. A reading

of landscapes in this text brings to light the ways in which Stephens’s landscapes were a

(re)invention of the topology in which the locals could position their memories and traditions.

Landscape is treated as an aspect of cultural translation in the context of Kristapuraṇa. The

transformations and (re)creations that occur when sacred texts and traditions undergo cultural

translation are highlighted in this reading of Kristapuraṇa.

KEYWORDS: Kristapurana; cultural translation; missionary literature; genre; landscapes and

translation; South Asian literature


Place : Indian Institute of Technology Gandhinagar, Gujarat, India

Year : 2018

Supervisor : Dr. Arnapurna Rath



Annie Rachel Royson, Abstract of Ph.D. thesis

सतरावया शतकातील गोवयामधील गरथ आणि परपरा: थॉमस सटीफनसरणित णिसतपरािातील

सासकणतक भाषातर, पणितरता आणि पररिततनािा अभयास

सारााश

सतरावया शतकात गोवयामधय लिलिलया गिलया 'खरिसतपराण' (इ.स.१६१६) या गराथाचा समीकषणातमक अभयास या परबाधात कििा

आि. थॉमस सटीफनची बायबिवरीि परवचनााची मराठीतीि पनरकती िी दलकषण आलशयातीि सवाात जनया मलिताापकी एक आि.

या परबाधामधय लिसतपराणाचा साासकलतक अनवादाचया अनषागान अभयास करणयात आिा आि. ततकािीन लमशनरीजना साासकलतक

साघषााचया गातागातीिा सामोर जाताना जया पदधती आतमसात करावया िागलया, तयावर या अभयासामधय परकाश टाकणयात आिा

आि. पोतागीज अमिाखािीि गोवयासारखया वसाितीमधय जया पराचीन पलवतर परापरा िोतया, तयााचा लिशचन धमााशी सामना झालयावर

जनसामानयााना लिशचन धमााच मिततव पटवन दणयासाठी आलण चचान घािन लदिलया कडक लनयमााबददि वाटाघाटी करणयाचया

उददशातन नवीन पदधतीचया धोरणााचा उदय झािा. ि सवा लिसतपराणाचया या साासकलतक अनवादाचया माधयमातनच समजन

घणयाकररता, सटीफनच एक आागि लिशचन त - एक परवासी त - एक कवी-पजारी-अनवादक अस ज पररवतान झाि, त समजन घण

आवशयक आि. ततकािीन सामालजक-राजकीय पारशाभमीवर सटीफनच ि िखन समजन घणयासाठी, तया िखनाची भाषा आलण

जया रोमन लिपीमधय त लिलिि गि, िी दोनिी समजन घण आवशयक आि. दलकषण आलशयातीि जया मागाान लिशचन िखनाचा

परवास झािा तयाचािी परवासाचािी अभयास लिसतपराण ि या गराथािा लवशलषणािा क िवती मानन किा गिा आि.

परवास, पररवतान, शिी आलण भौगोलिक परदश या अनषागान साासकलतक भाषाातराची साकलपना या परबाधामधय िाताळणयात आििी

आि. “पलवतर” गराथााचा अनवाद करताना अनवादक आलण “अनवालदत” झाििा समि हााना जी असवसथता भासत, तो हा अभयासाचा

एक मखय लवषय आि. लिसतपराणाचया दिा िजार, नऊश बासषट ओवयाामधन कािी लनवडक शलोक ओवया घऊन, तयााचयातीि

बारकावयाासकट त समजावणयासाठी आलण साकलपनातमक चचसाठी या परबाधात तयााचा इागरजीमधय अनवाद करणयात आिा आि.

लिसती धमा आलण लिाद धमा यााचयातीि लभननतमधय ताळमळ घािणयासाठी लिसतपराणामधय सटीफनन पौरालणक शिीचा उपयोग

किा आि. पौरालणक िखन परापरा आलण पलवतरतचया रढी या सथालनक रलिवाशयााचया लजविाळयाचया लवषयाामधय ठामपण

रजलवणयासाठी सटीफन तयाचया या िखनािा “ पराण” अस नामालभधान दतो. तयान दोन पलवतर िखनातमक परापरा - बायबि

आलण पराण - यााचा मळ घातलयामळ बायबिची परवचन आलण पौरालणक शिी यााच या साासकलतक अनवादाचया परलियत लसथतयातर

झाि. या सादभााचा एक धागा घऊन लिसतपराणातीि पौरालणक शिीचया नवीकरणाचया लका वा “कादाबरीकरणाचया” परलियच

लवशलषण या परबाधात करणयात आि आि. यालशवाय, सटीफनच िखन वसाितीकरणाचया सादभाातीि क िीय भौगोलिक परदश,

दरचया दशााबददिच आकषाण आलण पादािाात किलया परदशााच भौलतक आलण साासकलतक पररवतान, अस नवनवीन आयाम उिगडत

जातात. अफाट वाळवाटी परदश, लवषववततीय िररत परदश आलण उजाड शिरााच उलिख परवासाची लनरातर परलिया दशावतात.

सटीफनचया भौगोलिक परदशााचया वणानामधय तया परदशााच जण पनरतथान िोऊन, नवयान लिसती झािलया समिाच समती व परापरा हा


Annie Rachel Royson, Abstract of Ph.D. thesis

नवीन भगोिाच एक भाग ठरतात. लिसतपराणाचया सादभाात भौगोलिक परदशााचया वणानािा साासकलतक अनवादाचा एक पि अस

मानि आि. साासकलतक अनवादाचया परलियतन जात असताना पलवतर िखन आलण परापरा हाामधय ज पररवतान आलण पनलनलमाती

िोत, तयााचयावर या परबाधामधय परकाश टाकणयात आिा आि.

मिभत शबद: लिसतपराण; साासकलतक अनवाद; लमशनरी सालितय; वाङमयपरकार; भौगोलिक पररसर आलण अनवाद; दलकषण

आलशयाई सालितय

परबाधपतीचा तपशीि

लठकाणः इालडयन इलनसटटयट ऑफ टकनॉिॉजी गााधीनगर, गजरात, भारत

वषा: 2018

पी एच डी पयावकषक: डॉ अणापणाा रथ

मळ भाषा: इागरजी

Editors' Introduction - Lirias

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Transcript of Editors' Introduction - Lirias