Most Difficult Language

Is it possible to quantify translation? Is it possible to assess if one text is more difficult than another? Is it possible to claim that one language is more difficult than another language? The whole idea of quantifiability in language and linguistics has often been shunned and thought to be impossible, however, the advent of corpus linguistics and statistical approaches to language has shown us that there is much that statistics can give us. Certain aspects of language are quantifiable and probabilistically-motivated.

A question that is often put by non-linguists is whether one language is more difficult than another. Interestingly, this question is very rarely posited by linguists and sadly has not been taken up by statistical linguistics. Are linguists afraid to ask this question or do they believe it is redundant? Perhaps this question is marked by a form of linguistic political correctness and it is not ‘right’ to ask whether one language is more difficult than another. A ‘better’ question might be how one language differs from another. Yet we are all aware of the fact that some languages are more difficult than others. Obviously, there are a number of factors at play here, such as one’s mother tongue, how many languages one already knows and the relation of the new language to the mother tongue as well as our own individual predisposition for learning languages. But still, with all these factors taken into consideration, certain languages are easier or more difficult than others.

Opinions are varied with Mandarin (Chinese), Arabic, Polish, Basque and Xhosa seen as the most difficult. But when attempting to answer this question we find that it is in fact redundant with there being as many answers as there are people asking the question. Yet where statistical linguistics fears to tread, second language learning boldly goes. It is fascinating that some language teaching institutions have tried to approach this answer quantitatively. The US Military (as well as other US institutions) use a system which divides languages into four groups from I to IV. French, Italian and Dutch can be found within Group I; German in Group II; Polish, Thai and Hebrew in Group III whereas Arabic, Chinese, Japanese and Korean fall into the Group IV bracket. The methodology behind this system is both simple yet extremely practical with languages in each successive group requiring a greater number of teaching hours than those in the preceding group.

It is interesting how practical demands often create the lines of demarcation that linguists (and translators) are often so loathe to draw. The same, of course, can be said of different types of text which the translator faces. Some believe medical or legal texts to be the most difficult, some maintain that poetry is a much more arduous task but in the thick of the translation jungle and within translation agencies the distinction is much less elegant. Initial quotes by translation agencies are often undertaken based on the distinction of general vs. specialised, express vs. non-express translation. It is only when such (theoretical) distinctions are pushed up against the cold, hard truth of practice do these distinctions come good.

Mission Impossible II

Complex concepts often lead to questions such as why does one particular culture possess a word that another does not? Language always seeks to be as efficient as possible. If a concept is used enough in a particular culture, it begins to stick. Here are some more odd words that could prove to be difficult to translate:

Dai Lu maozi (Chinese): his wife is sleeping with someone else (literally, he wears the green hat)

Gwarlingo (Welsh): the rushing sound a grandfather clock makes before striking the hour

Setja upp gestaspjot (Icelandic): a phrase denoting the action taken by a cat when cleaning itself, with its body curled tightly in a circle with one back leg sticking up directly in the air and when a cat was seen doing this it was supposed to indicate that visitors would be turning up (literally, put up a guest-spear)

Pisan zapra (Malay): the time needed to eat a banana

Geisterfahrer (Austrian German): one travelling the wrong way up an autobahn (literally, ghost driver)

Mouton enragé (French): someone calm who loses their temper (literally, an enraged sheep)

Mamihlapinatapai (from Tierra del Fuego): two people looking at each other each hoping the other will do what both desire but neither is willing to do

Iets door de vingers kijken (Flemish): allow something illegal or incorrect to happen by conscious inaction (literally, to look at something through the fingers)

Yupienalle (Swedish): a mobile phone (literally, yuppie teddy)

Schürzenjaeger (German): someone who chases after women (literally, a hunter of aprons)

Amoureux d’une chevre coiffée (French): a man who is attracted to every woman he sees (literally, a love of a goat whose fur is combed)

Translators beware…

Mission Impossible I

Cultural terms are all the more difficult to translate when there is almost no known social equivalent. This post is dedicated to those terms which are almost completely impossible to transfer across without some sort of loss (and gain):

Buaya darat (Indonesian): a man who fools women into thinking he is a very faithful lover when in fact he goes out with many different women at the same time (literally, land crocodile)

Okuri-okami (Japanese): a man who feigns thoughtfulness by offering to see a girl home only to try to molest her once he gets in the door (literally, a see-you-home wolf)

Traer la lengua de corbata (Latin American Spanish): to be worn out; to be exhausted (literally, to have your tongue hanging out like a man’s tie)

L’esprit d’escalier (French): used to describe the precise moment a person comes up with a clever retort to an embarrassing insult (literally, spirit of the staircase)

Tantenverführer (German): a young man with suspiciously good manners (literally, aunt seducer)

Nito-onna (Japanese): a woman so dedicated to her career that she has no time to iron blouses and so resorts to dressing only in knitted tops

Faire du leche-vitrines (French): window-shopping (literally, to lick the windows)

Amakudari (Japanese): describes the phenomenon of being employed by a firm in an industry one has previously, as a government bureaucrat, been involved in regulating (literally, descent from heaven)

Harami (Arabic): an electrical plug adapter that allows more than one plug to be plugged into the same socket (literally, a thief)

Handschuhschneeballwerfer (German): coward (literally, somebody, who wears gloves to throw snow balls)

Pune-ti pofta-n cui (Romanian): forget about getting something (literally, hang your craving on a nail on the wall)

More to follow…

Ephemeral Translation

One of the most difficult aspects in translation is understanding and dealing with ephemeral expressions and concepts. How do we cope with phrases that may only last for a week, month and then disappear never to be heard of again? How do we even begin translating something which is scribbled down on a scrap of paper and has a useful life of thirty minutes at the most?

The successful translation of ephemera relies, obviously, on the translator’s ability to nigh on perfectly understand the source text and culture. More importantly, understand the sociolect or jargon that is being used. Ephemera are often used in specific environments and are often particular to a given field or domain. The understanding of context is therefore paramount and perhaps more important than his/her knowledge of the target text.

Within corpus linguistics the study of ephemera is seen as both important but at the same time one of the most difficult tasks in the creation of corpora. How does one systematically collect ephemera? What is/are ephemera? Post-it notes? Memos? Text messages

Ephemeral language and the study of it (what we might term ephemero-linguistics) would give us valuable insights into the day-to-day working of language. Knowledge of the structure of ephemera (thats is once we have reliably defined the term) would help us understand how ephemeral language is formed and, in turn, would help us in its translation.

Examples might include Back in 5, CU l8r, Gr8 idea. Language always seeks economy and the language of post-it notes, memos and text messages are great evidence of this. In everyday speech what do we delete? Verb? Nouns? Other parts of speech? How is grammar affected? Can we define an ephemeral grammar in much the same way that we can talk of the headline grammar of newspapers?

Knowledge of everyday language and a future ephemero-linguistics could give us valuable insights into the real working of language. We all concede that the translation of idioms are difficult but ephemera are perhaps the most difficult nut to crack. Research into the subject is scarce and published material on the subject is practically non-existent. Does this mean there is no such thing as ephemera or does it mean we need to invest more time into this area?

The Nature of Language

The status of a language is often reflected by the number of translations undertaken into and out of that language. A prime example is English which is the leader in this field with the greatest number of translations undertaken both into and out of it. This includes academic articles, scientific texts and literature. For example, a large proportion of literature published in non-English countries is translated from English - one has only to compare the Finnish and English publishing markets. In Finland, a large percentage of literature found in the homes of the average Finn is translated from English whereas the bookshelves of the average English or American citizen will contain a mere handful of books translated from other languages (and these will all tend to be European languages). This state of affairs reflects the global status of English.
In fact, it would not take long to create a ‘league table’ of the languages which are most translated. These statistics would allow us to accurately calculate the current worldstatus of each language. Of course, the respect allowed any one language has nothing to do with the syntax or semantics of the language but the political or economic strength of the country attached to this language. Can a language be ‘more’ of a language than another tongue? Global languages such as English, Spanish, Arabic, Chinese, German, Japanese and French are often regarded as superior to other non-global (’lesser’) languages due to the superior economic or political (or religious) status attached to the respective states that use these languages. There are people who believe that English ’suits music better’ and has thus been able to conquer the world of pop music. French ’sounds beautiful’ and is still regarded as the language of diplomacy by many. Arabic is the language of the Qur’an and is thus ‘holy’.

Language reflects culture and society. It cannot be manipulated or generated, although this does not stop people having opinions about any particular tongue being more ‘natural’ than another. Linguists and translators know otherwise and recognise the unfounded and groundless nature of these beliefs. But where is the fine line? Where is the border that delimits a global language from a ‘lesser’ language? Subjective opinion or objective book sales?

A more important distinction is perhaps not between ‘greater’ or ‘lesser’ but between language and dialect, language and jargon, language and variety. When a language awakens, the dialect continuum that exists within the language needs to solidify at one point. The paradox of language is that tongues change both horizontally and vertically (temporally and spatially) but the language always remains the same. The English of the 1850s is very different from today’s English yet the two are still called English. The Polish of the 1500s and today’s Polish might be regarded as utterly different but the two are still called ‘Polish’. Languages are in fact vessels that contain a whole variety of mini-languages, that is dialects, sociolects and idiolects. The language becomes a language when the society begins to identify with it and work begins on the solidification process. One dialect is chosen above all others and becomes ‘The Language’. In effect, the push towards language creation (through the choice of a variety to become the prime vessel for the other dialects) is an empowerment process. Translation reflects this process of empowerment. A language is a dialect with an army. How true is this?

Linguists can easily note which tongues (varieties and dialects) are discrete and distinct languages by the number of translations into and out of them. Do we see a large number of texts translated into and out of the Lancashire dialect of English? How about the Highland (Góralskie) variety of Polish? Can the same be said of Scots or Kashubian? Perhaps the status of these four varieties is different but they can be tangibly defined in an almost hierarchical fashion. The need to read something in a variety of a language or read something written in this variety and have it translated into or out of that variety is surely a mark of its status. The more often translation surrounds the variety, the greater the empowerment. An interesting example here is the rise (and fall) of Yiddish, which was initially seen as a corrupt form of German (at which point little translation into and out of it was undertaken). Later, it came to be seen as an eloquent amalgam of German, Hebrew and Aramaic representative of the highest achievement of Ashkenazi culture (at which point, masses of religious and political manifests and literature were translated into and out of Yiddish). However, through negative pressure from Hebraicists who soiled the reputation of Yiddish, this language became synonymous with Ashkenazi indifference (as opposed to Zionist state regeneration). Translation reflects the status of a language.

Dialectal Differances II

It seems that the “slipper” issue is more complicated and twisted than might be presumed (see previous post). The following words for “slipper” were previously mentioned:

kapcie
papcie
łapcie
chapcie

But aside from these and similar diminutives, such as kapciuszki, paputki, łapciuszki, etc. we also have:

ćapcie
papucie
laczki
klapki
klaputki

Such a small and insignificant piece of footwear but such a variety of synonyms.

Meeting of Cultures

With the great influx of people from Eastern Europe, particularly from Poland to the United Kingdom many commentators believe the English language could be set for its next great ‘dose’ of new words.

As we all know, the English language has survived through its amazing capacity to change and evolve. First, the native Britons were conquered by the Romans who brought Latin with them, the Brits were then subdued by the Normans who brought with them Norman French. Imperialism may have left the English mark on other countries but English also picked up a host of words from other languages, words like “pukka”, “juggernaut” or “kosher”.

A survey of words by Thomas Finkenstaedt and Dieter Wolff estimated the origin of English words as:

• French and Old Norman: 28.3%
• Latin: 28.24%
• Other Germanic languages: 25%
• Greek: 5.32%
• No etymology given: 4.03%
• Derived from proper names: 3.28%
• All other languages contributed less than 1%

Another survey by Joseph M. Williams gave:

• French: 41%
• “Native” English: 33%
• Latin: 15%
• Danish: 2%
• Dutch: 1%
• Other: 10%

Now that nearly a million Poles have swollen the population of the United Kingdom, will British English be ready to accept some Polish words? What words will they be?

Dialectal Differences

All languages possess dialects, this includes sign language where we have ’standard’ versions such as British Sign Language or American Sign Language as well as off-shoots or mutations of these.

The translation of dialects, however, is not a common enterprise and one which is fraught with countless problems, endless discussion and never-ending controversy. A dialect is a regional variety of a language and is therefore particular to a specific area.

When translating a dialect, the translator is not only transplanting one culture into another but also transplanting the culture of a specific area into the other culture. If the text is translated into the target culture using a dialect of the target language then the translator has made a conscious decision to include the cultural baggage of that dialect - a risky task.

Sometimes, however, regionalisms are not culturally loaded and the lexical variants are simply regional synonyms. An example of such a non-loaded regionalism might be the Polish:

kapcie
papcie
łapcie
chapcie

Would it be enough to translate all of these as slippers? Or should the translate attempt to transfer the fact that this is a regionalism?

Forming Collocations

As we know, collocations are one of the most important elements in our everyday language. Collocations are the ready-made constructions that help us pass on meaning and sense to other speakers of the language. Without collocations it would be difficult to understand one another. Collocations are often seen to be the key to fluency or native-like linguistic competence. A native speaker of English will say knife and fork, it’s raining cats and dogs not fork and knife or dogs and cats.

These may seem like minor differences but they make the native speaker sound native. Previous posts (click here and here) have shown the importance of collocations and the intrinsic link between culture and language.

A noteworthy fact visible within the world of politics is the ability to turn common collocations (or set phrases) into new phrases (calling them collocations would be an injustice). A good example of this are the two Polish phrases przerażające fakty, porażające fakty which in loose translation might be understood as frightening facts and paralysing facts.

Both phrases are extremely similar but show how politicians or other language users have the creative ability to take meanings a ‘notch up’ and ‘crank up’ the force of certain collocations. What is even more fascinating is the way in which these linguistic changes are understood by the audience. A scan of these two collocations phrases shows that language users believe them to be synonymous regardless of the intentions of the original user.

The conclusion therefore is that linguistic forces have the ability to ‘level off’ and ’smooth out’ rough edges which are simply unnecessary. In the same way that erosion allows rivers to find the ideal route across a plain, so too language finds the ideal form through which communication is most effective.

Language of Advertising

As we have seen in a previous post (click here), within the language of advertising the translator is often bound by more factors than when translating other texts. We are constantly attacked by and completely surrounded by the language of advertising so much so that it filters into our respective cultures and seeps into the language of the average speaker.

The language of advertising has become an important element in the creation of new words, phrases and cultural references. It is noteworthy to mention Umberto Eco here and his last work of fiction The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana in which he shows the influence of both high and low culture on our social (and linguistic) make-up.

Advertising is intrinsically linked to a throw-away linguistic culture where words and phrases enter the language at great velocity, are used with great propensity and then disappear never to be heard again. Most people can remember the advertising slogans of their childhood, although these phrases often do not have the same function today as they once had.

Two common phrases in Polish advertising have been noted. The first is lubię chłodek. The second is mały głodek. Both are amusing phrases aimed at children or aiming to mimic the language of children through the use of diminutives: chłód (’chill’, ‘the cold’) –> chłodek and głód (’hunger’) –> głodek. The translation of these two phrases might prove difficult.

Lubię chłodek can be found on drinks and yoghurts that should be ‘kept refrigerated’. However, keep refrigerated is too formal a phrase for this context, thus constructions such as I like the cold or I prefer it chilly might be more appropriate, although in the second suggestion the key word has become an adjective.

Mały głodek is a slogan used as part of an advertising campaign for a well-known yoghurt-like product. The product is the enemy of ‘hunger’ which is personified as a small yellow creature. Here we have the additional problem of having to deal with a character/persona. A possible equivalent might be hunger pang which retains the noun quality of the original and adds an element of devilishness with the word pang.

Perfect equivalents they are not but they help shed light on the cultural, grammatical and semantic processes taking places in both languages.