Measuring Quality

Can the quality of a translated text be measured using purely statistical methods? What is the definition of statistical? What do we have in mind when we speak of a method or methodology? Without doubt, care must be taken with the terminology we use due to the fact that statistical could relate to a variety of techniques which in some way or other make use of statistics. Similarly, the term computerised is bandied about and often relates to a wide spectrum of techniques.

Statistical and/or computerised (or even computer-based) techniques are most certainly the way forward for translators, translator trainers and editors/proof-readers. This is not to say that the computer will relieve us of the work we put into the translation process but will rather provide us with powerful tools that can improve the quality of translation as well as save valuable time when producing texts. Already, computer-aided human translation has given us translation memories (like Trados) that have had a huge impact on speed and quality.

Nevertheless, is it possible for computer-based tools to measure the quality of a particular text? We have seen that the analysis of language corpora can give us clues into how a text works. By looking at purely quantitative features, such as frequency lists, it is possible to assess the mechanics and style of a text. By extension, we should therefore be able to assess the quality of a translation. If translators are able to pinpoint particular linguistic elements that might correlate to the quality of a text in a particular domain we should be able to talk of a statistical-based study of translation quality.

Research into translation quality assessment seems to point to a procedural approach to the assessment of quality, however, a simpler path might be the search for specific statistical anchor points which the translation assessor could use to determine if the translation fulfils the basic functions of a text with regards to style, for example, the appropriate number of nouns, verbs, adjectives and the appropriate ratio between these parts of speech.

Statistical tools are just that. Tools. The Universal Translator so often depicted in science fiction films may well be a pipe dream and momentarily unrealistic but this does not mean we cannot push the limits of statistical and computer-based linguistics to the very edge so that not only theorists but translation practitioners can also put them to use.

Mythical Beginnings

The reason why translation and translators exist is, of course, because of the fact that there is a huge diversity of languages in the world. There are many theories and hypotheses as to the reason for the evolution of language and the divergence of the world’s languages but some of the most interesting ‘hypotheses’ are the mythical stories that seem to accompany people everywhere around the world.

Most of us know the Babel myth. Some call it a fable, some call it a legend, some even say that it is a lesson to be learned. Let us have a look at the origin of the story of the Tower of Babel/Babylon (as found in the Holy Bible):

Now all the earth continued to be of one language and of one set of words… And they began to say, each one to the other: “Come on! … Let us build ourselves a city and also a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a celebrated name for ourselves, for fear we may be scattered over all the surface of the earth.” And Jehovah proceeded to go down to see the city and the tower that the sons of men had built. After that Jehovah said: “Look! They are one people and there is one language for them all, and this is what they start to do. Why, now there is nothing that they may have in mind to do that will be unattainable for them. Come now! Let us go down and there confuse their language that they may not listen to one another’s language.” Accordingly Jehovah scattered them from there over all the surface of the earth, and they gradually left off building the city. That is why its name was called Ba′bel, because there Jehovah had confused the language of all the earth, and Jehovah had scattered them from there over all the surface of the earth.

Humanity has long sought explanation for the divergences in human languages. In fact, every tribe, nation or people on every continent seems to have their own ‘language divergence’ myth. Interestingly, the people of the island of Hao in French Polynesia have an almost identical myth in which God chased the builders away in anger, destroyed the building, and changed their language, so that they spoke diverse tongues.

There is a Mexican legend which talks of the giant Xelhua constructing the great Pyramid of Cholula, in order to reach heaven. However, the gods were angry at his audacity, burned the building and destroyed it after which each separate family received a language of its own.

The Wa-Sania people of East Africa believe that all the the peoples of the earth spoke only one language but following a terrible famine, a sickness fell upon the people driving them all mad. They wandered about in all directions, jabbering strange words, and from this wandering and jabbering the world’s languages evolved.

On the other hand, Hindu mythology states that:

There grew in the centre of the earth the wonderful world tree, or knowledge tree. It was so tall that it reached almost to heaven. It said in its heart, “I shall hold my head in heaven and spread my branches over all the earth, and gather all men together under my shadow, and protect them, and prevent them from separating.” But Brahma, to punish the pride of the tree, cut off its branches and cast them down on the earth, when they sprang up as wata trees, and made differences of belief and speech and customs to prevail on the earth, to disperse men upon its surface.

Aztec mythology describes the story of a cataclysmic flood where only one man Coxcox and one woman Xochiquetzal survive. They have many children who are unable to speak but are endowed with language by a magical dove. However, each child is given a different language and as such they cannot understand one another.

The Iroquois God Taryenyawagon leads his people on a long journey showing and directing his people to settle in different places and because of this journeying and ‘resettlement’ their language changed into many.

The Gunwinggu tribe of Northern Austrailia describe a goddess who during the mythical dreamtime gave each of her children a language of their own to play with. A tribe from South Australia, on the other hand give us a delightful story which suggests that language diversity stemmed from cannibalism:

In remote time an old woman, named Wurruri lived towards the east and generally walked with a large stick in her hand, to scatter the fires round which others were sleeping, Wurruri at length died. Greatly delighted at this circumstance, they sent messengers in all directions to give notice of her death; men, women and children came, not to lament, but to show their joy. The Raminjerar were the first who fell upon the corpse and began eating the flesh, and immediately began to speak intelligibly. The other tribes to the eastward arriving later, ate the contents of the intestines, which caused them to speak a language slightly different. The northern tribes came last and devoured the intestines and all that remained, and immediately spoke a language differing still more from that of the Raminjerar.

Sometimes, fiction, legend and story are far more interesting than fact.

Continuum of Impossibility

Translation is a thankless task and one which sometimes even has negative repercussions for the translator. Why are translators, especially those taking their first steps in this enlightened career, so utterly preoccupied with the quality of their work, perhaps more so than in other professions? There are two reasons for this. First of all, the translator is frequently working under the pressure of time. Being creative is difficult when the translator is constantly aware of the fact that the sands of time are fast trickling away. The second reason is key to translation itself and is fundamentally interwoven with the very concept of translation.

In essence, translation is an impossible exercise. We are never able to perfectly transpose the ideas of one person in one language embedded in one particular culture into another language and culture. It simply cannot be accomplished, much in the same way as recapitulation, reformulation or rephrasing is never an ideal match. Take, for example, “The heathens were still all avid worshippers of the Sun God Ra”. This is not the same as “There are still pagans who worship Ra, the Sun God”.

There are several phenomena at work here. Firstly, the very nature of linguistic multiplicity lends itself to multiple interpretations. Secondly, the overt and covert meanings of the author/speaker of a given text will very rarely ideally match the interpretations of the reader/listener. Every text has a clear and open meaning (overt) but also a deeper truth (covert) hidden between the lines. Expecting a reader/listener to know both these meanings is fanciful. Expecting thousands of readers/listeners to do so is simply inconceivable.

Translators are faced with thousands of glittering and shimmering signifiers whose light sometimes keeps us from seeing the distant, yet constant, glow of the signified. We are sometimes like lost children not able to see the forest for the trees, preoccupied with the details and often missing the whole.

Translation is an impossible task. The hope of creating the Perfect Translation is akin to the quest for the Holy Grail. The quest is tangible and very real, yet the Perfect Translation itself is illusory and unattainable, just like the Holy Grail. Translation theorists discuss at length concepts such as equivalence, translatability and untranslatability but these can all be boiled down to one concept - how near or far the translation is from the original. In effect, the translator moves along a continuum of impossibility gauging the quality of each translated text by the distance from the original. What we are discussing is not the apparent fidelity of fluency of a text but where this text figures on the continuum of impossibility.

Eco Advises

Umberto Eco once stated that to be a good translator one needs to translate and be translated. How true these words are. In fact, Eco goes on to state that the author must also act as an editor and consultant to the translator of his works. Umberto Eco makes it his duty to discuss the problems of translation with each individual translator regardless of whether he knows the target language or not. Eco asks his translators to discuss the problems they are having - which section is difficult, which paragraph seems unintelligible, or which sentence appears to be untranslatable. He is able to illicit answers to their problems by prodding them deeper and deeper about the culture of the target language and making them become aware of the real context of what lay within his mind at the time of writing.

In essence this shows us that the translator must have a dual outlook on the text he or she is translating - from the side of the author and the side of the translator. Or, in fact, from the point of view of the author and point of view of the reader. Moreover, a cultural fluency (or bi-culturalism) is essential. The first idea that comes to mind here is how does one translate into or out of the ancient languages? How does one grapple with a culture that is no more? All that can be done is to read, read, read, research, research, research until one immerses oneself in the source culture in order to then transpose (functionally) equivalent concepts into the (home) culture.

What Umberto Eco shows us is that even authors need to be sensitive to the sensibilities of the translator. And the best consultant for every translator is invariably the author of the original text. Interestingly, these are nigh-on always the most fascinating linguistic, translational and cultural conversations. The author who is ready to discuss a text with his/her translator is often an open person ready to take on new ideas. When culture meets culture, text meets text, author meets translator the boundaries between the two often blur, overlap and merge often producing something new and exciting. It is at moments like this the process of translation is most exhilarating.

Fidelity vs Intelligibility

The age old problem.

Should the translator focus on being as faithful to the original as possible or should his/her job be to make the translation as comprehensible as possible? The translator’s path, which might be elegantly rendered into Japanese as 訳道 (yákù-dō), is a difficult route fraught with danger but at the same time littered with gleaming jewels and precious stones. The path is narrow and is often bisected by what appear to be easier, more well-trodden roads. Sometimes other routes run parallel to our path but we must always stay true and keep on our path. The glittering jewels we sometimes find are priceless gems that need to be collected and cherished but more often than not they are cheap baubles that may seem beautiful at first glance but are of little worth and merely spoil the view.

The yákù-dō is not easy. Most of the time the way is hard to spot, is overgrown or littered with debris and only the more experienced travellers will be able to find the correct path. Initiates and novices of yákù-dō are taught to find the path using a variety of methods and tools so that in later life the yákù-dō master is able even to find his/her way blindfolded. Yákù-dō requires many years of training, dedication and learning and no one ever attains perfection.

Experience is crucial. Only with experience can the translator be sure that he/she has the correct balance, the yin-yang harmony of translation that is fidelity-intelligibility. Only then can the decision be made, depending on each text, which way the balance should be tipped - towards faithfulness or comprehensibility.

Creative Translation

Is it a crime to be creative? In some professions, perhaps, yes. Let us take the phrase creative accounting which is a euphemism for cooking the books or illegal accounting. Here, creativity is seen to be negative.

Is creativity something to be avoided in translation? Some may say that a healthy dose of creativity is important. As we established in a previous post (see here), the translator can often be regarded as an co-author and so without creativity any form of translation could prove difficult.

There are those, however, who believe over-creativity to be a danger to translators. Knowing when to use a dictionary equivalent and when to throw caution to the wind and choose something unique is the difference between an average translator and innovative translator (perhaps also between a safe translator and maverick translator). The line between neologism and creative equivalent is indeed a fine one. A few examples will serve to illustrate the point

Let us take the Polish word łże-elity which has been variously translated as ‘lying elite’, ‘false elite’ or even ‘decepto-eltite’ (see previous post). Both all and none of these can be regarded as appropriate yet the word needs an equivalent. We can form a contiuum of equivalents from safe through to maverick (creative) and then choose which one best serves our purposes.

Another example which is often difficult to translate into English is the Polish skrót myślowy whose equivalents, when placed on a continuum, can range from ‘brachylogy’, ’shortcut in thinking’, ‘mental shortcut’ to the (creative) ‘thought-cut’.

Our ability as translators to be creative is most certainly what sets us apart, and likewise, what differentiates the average (mundane) translation from the interesting (maverick) one.

Is Translation Interpretation?

As we know, translation metaphors abound. Some bring us closer to the truth, some confuse and confound. The nature of translation makes it difficult to understand the phenomenon, hence the countless number of metaphors which are often contradictory. On the one hand, translators are asked to be as faithful as possible, but on the other hand, they are told to never translate word-for-word. Translators are told to mirror the text often in an almost mechanical way, yet the very task of translation is itself extremely creative.

Thus, the question that really interests translation theorists is whether the translation process is a ‘primary’ or ’secondary’ process. Is translation ‘creation’ or is it ‘recapitulation’? If, on the one hand, we assume that translation is a ‘primary’ process then the question of authorship is paramount - the translator is the ‘creator’ of the text, a ‘co-author’ of sorts. If, on the other hand, the process is ’secondary’ then the ‘creativity factor’ is of less import and, in effect, the focus is on the source rather than the target text.

This is not necessarily an ‘either-or’ choice. Translation theorists and translator practitioners tend to favour one approach over the other often basing their judgements on the kind of text being translated, rather than on the translation process per se. The paradox within translation studies is that general theories are not always able to encompass all texts and a more detailed approach often exemplifies the true intricacies involved.

So, is translation interpretation? Regardless of whether we believe the process to be primary or secondary, it is difficult to not agree with deconstructionists who maintain that all forms of reading a text are forms of interpretation and re-interpretation and thus ‘creation of a new meaning’. If this is the case, every reading of a text (that is, every translation) can also be classified as an interpretation (or re-interpretation) of a source text in which case we can also conclude that there is an element of creation involved. If so, translation IS primary and therefore the translator is both a (co-)creator and (co-)author.

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.

Another Translation Metaphor

As we all know translation studies abounds in translation metaphors (see previous post). Comparisons with mirrors and shadows are frequent. Metaphors which talk about the invisibility of the translator or the translation as a reflection of the original can be found in most academic material on the subject.

It it time translators and translation scholars began to approach their subject form a different perspective. Many experts believe that there can only be evolution through revolution and so it may be appropriate to suggest some alternate metaphors which will allow us to think again and look again at this subject of ours. One alternate suggestion (see previous post) has already been put forward. However, there can never been enough suggestions and ideas.

An interesting suggestion which has crept into the literature several times is the idea that translation is a thoroughly alien beast roaming around in a native country. In fact, the idea has also been put forward that the translated text itself is a resurrected ‘native’ creature in an alien body. Taken further we might say that the translation contains (or should contain) a native (text) heart but is enveloped by an alien body.

The idea can be both grotesque and thoroughly off-putting. But that, in essence, is what translators do. They perform linguistic neuro-surgery attempting to re-animate a creature that is not entirely suited to life in a new environment. The linguistic neuro-surgeon needs also to ensure that the new beast not only ‘looks’ like a native but ‘feels’ like a native. Not an easy task.

Translation Errors

One of the greatest missions for all translatologists, translation theorists and translation trainers is being able to isolate the problems related to the translation process and the translation product.

Unfortunately, getting in the mind of the translator (or, in fact any other human) is a near impossible task, thus the possibility of analysing the translation process - that is knowing what takes place between the original and the translated text - is marked by estimation, approximation and guesswork.

The only reliable pieces of evidence we have in the analysis of the translation process is the original (source) text and the translated text (the translation product). Therefore, the first step in analysing the translation process (read translation product) is the final translation.

Whilst looking through research available on errors in translation (including work in translation quality assessment) it became clear that a errors seem to oscillate around similar areas. An interesting taxonomy put forward by Raf Uzar highlights seven major error categories:

Cohesion
Grammar
Coherence
Lexical
Style
Graphemic/Technical
Word/Phrase Order

This taxonomy gives us a point from which we can begin the slow and laborious task of assessing translation through the isolation of particular categories of error.