Bringing the News Back Home: Strategies of Acculturation and Foreignisation Susan Bassnett Language and Intercultural Communication

Vol. 5, No. 2, 2005 University of Warwick, UK This paper considers the long-standing debate in the field of translation concerning whether texts should be fully acculturated into the target system or should retain traces of their foreign origin. The author suggests that these debates become redundant, if not counter-productive in the field of news translation, where the demands of the target audience, the time constraints and the hybrid nature of the linguistic processes involved in creating global news approximate more closely to what happens in interpreting, where the target needs take precedence and acculturation becomes the dominant strategy. The paper also raises a fundamental question about the nature of news translation, and asks whether we have an adequate definition of the whole, complex process. The argument is illustrated by two case studies: translated transcripts of the first court appearance of Saddam Hussein and a statement issued by al Qaida following the terrorist bombing of the British consulate in Istanbul in November 2003. Acculturation versus Foreignisation The acculturation versus foreignisation debate has been with us for centuries. Grossly simplified, the issue hinges on whether a translator should seek to eradicate traces of otherness in a text so as to reshape that text for home consumption in accordance with the norms and expectations that prevail in the target system, or whether to opt for a strategy that adheres more closely to the norms of the source system. Acculturation, it can be argued, brings a text more completely into the target system, since that text is effectively aimed at readers with no knowledge of any other system. On the other hand, foreignisation ensures that a text is self-consciously other, so that readers 120 can be in no doubt that what they are encountering derives from a completely different system, in short that it contains traces of a foreignness that mark it as distinct from anything produced from within the target culture. In the late 18th and early 19th centuries, the acculturation versus foreignisation debate acquired a European dimension, since standard French literary practice inclined to acculturation, with standard German literary practice favouring the foreignising approach. Both methods were extensively justified in both intellectual and aesthetic terms. Wilhelm von Humboldt, in the introduction to his translation of Agamemnon (1816) drew attention to ways in which a language might be enriched through a translation method that favoured a foreignising approach. German, he suggested, had been enriched since it started to imitate the metrical patterns of Ancient Greek, and certainly the translations of several of the great 18th century German translators did have a major impact on German poetics. Similarly, other poetic forms have found their way into other literary systems through a translation practice that retained the source and refused to adapt to target language forms: cases in point include the sonnet, the haiku, terza rima and ottava rima and the Chinese image poem. Such examples of innovation, however, need to be offset against the dominance of acculturation as a strategy in many cultures that has ensured that alternative, unknown forms were reshaped in more familiar terms for target language readers. Reflecting on different translation strategies, Goethe argued that there were three kinds of translation, three epochs, that both repeated themselves in a kind of cyclical pattern and coexisted simultaneously. His first epoch acquaints us with the foreign country on our

own terms; his second is one in which the translator tries to transport himself into the foreign situation, but actually only appropriates the foreign idea and represents it as his own; his third, noblest epoch is one where the translation seeks perfect identity with the original, to such an extent that the one can exist in the place of the other (Goethe, in Schulte & Biguenet, 1992: 63). This highest form, it could be said, is neither acculturation nor foreignisation, but rather a process of total absorption, whereby the foreign text is reconstituted in another language in such a way that, ideally, there is perfect harmony of identity between the two. In contrast to much German thinking about translation, French translators of the same period were driven by the dominant norms of their own culture. Houdar de la Motte cut Homers Iliad down from 24 books to 12 in his version, claiming that his translation was actually an improvement on Homer, since he had cut out much of what he considered to be redundant material. De la Motte has since been ridiculed for such tactics, in much the same way as Voltaires famous statement about Shakespeares plays being a dunghill with the odd pearl here and there in the heap of manure is also regarded as absurd today. But what is important to remember is that de la Motte and those translators who followed an acculturation strategy that led them to cut, reshape and, in 21st century terms, radically alter their originals, were doing so in good faith and with good intentions. Andre Lefevere reminds us of the ideological dimension that underpins the construction of a poetics at different points in time in his book, Translating, Rewriting, and the Manipulation of Literary Fame, 121 pointing out that translators work within a universe of discourse and are, inevitably, conditioned and constrained by the dominant norms: The genre that is dominant in the target culture defines to a great extent the readers horizon of expectation with regard to the translated work that tries to take its place in that target culture. If it does not conform to the demands of the genre that dominates the target culture its reception is likely to be rendered more difficult. (Lefevere, 1992: 92) Post-colonial Dimensions In the 1990s, the acculturation/foreignisation debate acquired a new relevance, specifically in a post-colonial context. Approaching the history of translation from a range of different perspectives, scholars such as Tejaswini Niranjana, Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, Eric Cheyfitz, Anuradha Dingwaney, Carol Maier and others explored ways in which translation had been used instrumentally in a context where unequal power relationships between cultures prevailed, to represent the colonised. Such research focused on ways in which the dominant West had constructed a canon that valorized particular forms of writing, effectively excluding or marginalising those forms which did not fit the model. Arguments raged over whether any form of translation by a dominant power could be acceptable, and translation was used more broadly by post-colonialist critics as a metaphor for the uneven power relationship which defined colonisation. Articulating this line of thought in a translation studies context, Lawrence Venuti suggested that translation could be seen as a form of violence: the task of the translator is to bring home a text that has originated elsewhere, and to render it in terms that will be acceptable to target readers. In this respect, translation is a form of communication, but Venuti argues that it is a communication constrained by the broader context within which it takes place. Translation, he suggests, enlists the foreign text in the maintenance or

revision of dominant paradigms (Venuti, 1995: 19). He criticises Eugene Nidas concept of functional and dynamic equivalence as based on the desirability of an acculturated translation practice, and proposes instead a foreignising practice: I want to suggest that insofar as foreignizing translation seeks to restrain the ethnocentric violence of translation, it is highly desirable today, a strategic cultural intervention in the current state of world affairs, pitched against the hegemonic English-language nations and the unequal cultural exchanges in which they engage their global others. Foreignizing translation in English can be a form of resistance against ethnocentrism and racism, cultural narcissism and imperialism in the interests of democratic geopolitical relations. (Venuti, 1995: 20) Venutis suggestion that foreignising translations may be more ethical than acculturating ones is, of course, like most of the debates mentioned in this essay so far, relevant only to the translation of literary texts. For it is in the field of literary studies that conflicting concepts of the canon arise, and the question of a shift in status as an author is carried over from one language into another 122 can assume significance. Here, undoubtably, it is rare for a work from outside Western canonical models to enter into the Western canon, though Ezra Pounds translations of Chinese and Japanese poetry might arguably be a case in point. But such debates become esoteric when we turn to other text-types, and the issue of foreignised versus acculturated translation becomes purely academic. Technical, legal, scientific translation acculturates as best practice, and in interpreting, where the communicative prevails over aesthetic considerations, acculturation is the norm. Defining News Translation In an important recent essay, Daniel Gile discusses the differences between translation research and interpreting research, and suggests that the latter is some way behind the former in terms of theory and empirical research. He points out that difficulties in interpreting research include having to draw upon various disciplines, including linguistics, sociology, psychology, neurophysiology, communication studies etc. and also notes the different emphasis placed by researchers into conference interpreting and court interpreting (Gile, in Schaffner, 2004). He draws attention to the long-standing difference in traditional approaches to translation and interpreting, which have resulted in there being two different communities, who often have difficulty sharing their research with one another, but suggests that the speed of technological change which has such a major impact on translation and interpreting practices globally may be heralding a rapprochement between researchers working in these areas. In September 2003, I was awarded a grant by the Arts and Humanities Research Board (AHRB) for a project entitled The Politics and Economics of Translation in Global Media. The aims of the project are to investigate translation practices in the transmission of news, to explore the training of those employed in the industry and to seek to understand what actually happens in the time between an event occurring somewhere in the world and people in different countries hearing or reading about it. So far, the research team has conducted interviews with journalists, translators and news agencies, and has sought to bring together practitioners and academics in periodic meetings to exchange views. In the first phase of enquiry, several significant issues emerged. One was, inevitably, the constraints within which news translators work, constraints of space, time, and editorial decisionmaking to name but three. The Internet and expectations of 24-hour breaking news mean that the time frame within which translators work is extremely short

and becoming shorter every year as technology improves. At the chalk face, this means that texts have to be written, checked and ready for production at speeds unimaginable just a few years ago. This, in turn, raises questions regarding quality control. Obviously, there are systems for checking the accuracy of reporting, but again time is a constraining factor. The variant information travelling round the planet following the Indian Ocean tsunami disaster in December, 2004 is a good example of the conflicting forces operating in news reporting: on the one hand, it was essential to keep a regular flow of information, on the other hand the facts provided by local 123 authorities were often wildly at variance with other facts and over several days stories were continually being revised, disclaimed or reinterpreted by the worlds media. Another significant issue that deserves closer attention are the differing expectations of readers in different countries. In some contexts, readers expect reports to contain direct speech, so as to convey a greater sense of authenticity. This is a standard British convention, used by both tabloids and broadsheets. Elsewhere in Europe, direct speech would be perceived as dumbing down, and articles are written using reported speech instead. Different stylistic conventions mean that often a considerable amount of reshaping has to take place, to ensure that a text is suited to the target audience: the use of hyperbole in Italian reporting, for example, is in complete contrast to English irony and understatement, the French preference for a powerful, explanatory expositional statement at the start of an article is entirely different to the Anglo-American preference for a more enigmatic opening and a strong, summative conclusion. We could all think of countless examples once we start comparing reporting styles across cultures. Talking to journalists, we have begun to learn something about their strategies and techniques. Interestingly, we have discovered a clear terminological distinction: journalists, including those who work with material across different languages, refer to themselves as journalists and eschew the term translator. Translation appears to carry with it associations of some form of inferior, more derivative practice, though as emerged during a debate at our first project conference held at the University of Warwick in April 2004, none of the participants from the world of media could explain what that distinction might be. Eric Wishart, editor-inchief of Agence France Presse explained his own practice: taking a French story as rough notes, then writing an English version of it. He was critical of some professional translators who, he felt, produced texts that read awkwardly like bad translations and who at times made translation errors. Writing ones own story based on the text originally in another language enabled journalists to avoid such pitfalls. In addition, since millions of words move along the international wires every day, journalists have to be attuned to cultural differences and to the needs of their particular audience above all. From such empirical research, some fundamental questions have begun to emerge. The first, and most important, concerns the definition of the translated news report. What kind of text is it? Can we consider it to be a translation, and if, so, according to what criteria? For the process whereby a news story that originates in one cultural context ends up in another, is totally different from the process that we more familiarly term translation. What is generally understood by translation is that a text is written in language A and is then transferred into language B, with the translator scrupulously seeking to reproduce the source in as close an approximation as possible for readers who have no knowledge of the source language. Since these readers are dependent on the good faith of the translator, and place their trust in that translators skill, it is unsurprising that over the centuries translators have striven to articulate their practice, seeking to justify differences in a

variety of ways. The Romans distinguished between a more literal, word-for-word translation, as opposed to a sense-for-sense translation, and that dichotomous distinction has emerged 124 again and again over the centuries. The history of writing about translation contains countless discussions concerning the freedom a translator may or may not have to diverge significantly from the source. But with news reporting, the paradigm is different. A story may be generated orally in one language, be phoned in to a central office in that same language or in another, then be rewritten in a different language in an agency and sold around the world. At no stage is a text likely to be translated in the traditional sense of the term, following word order and sentence patterns. What is more likely is that different textual practices will take place, including summary, paraphrase, addition and subtraction, reshaping in accordance with target culture conventions, rewriting in a particular house style. In other words, what happens to news stories is that they undergo a series of textual transformations, all of which are underpinned by acculturation strategies. However and wherever a text originates, the objective is to represent that text to a specific audience, on their terms. Debates about the freedom of the translator do not have any relevance in such a context. The second interesting issue to emerge from our research so far is linked to this problem of defining translation. For what seems to happen to news stories comes much closer to what happens to texts that are transmitted orally, i.e. through interpreters. An interpreter, rendering a speech into another language, reshapes, alters emphases, adds and subtracts where necessary, seeks to maintain a suitable linguistic register, in short recreates a version for the target audience. New reporters appear to operate in the same way, with the emphasis on the destination of the story. This, for those of us engaged in translation research, compels us to rethink our methodology. News reporting appears to sit somewhere between translation as we have understood the term and interpreting, and the ways in which interlingual news reporters work would seem to bear this out. What is an Authentic Version? In July, 2004, Saddam Hussein appeared briefly before a court at a secret location in Baghdad. So confidential were the proceedings, that reporters were not allowed to be present, but a transcript of the exchanges between Saddam and the judge was made available to the media in English. The hearing was brief, lasting for 26 minutes and seven charges were read out against the former president. International attention focused on the event, with commentators eager to see how the former dictator would behave on his first public appearance since his capture. Frank Rubino, a US lawyer appeared on CBS news expressing surprise that Saddam had not had a lawyer with him and had faced the judge alone, then stating that in his opinion Saddam had gained control of the courtroom, which had been a tactical mistake on the part of the Iraqi authorities. Seeking to understand what Rubino meant when he said that the judge had lost control of his proceedings to Saddam, we would turn to some of the published versions of the court transcript. When I did this myself, however, I was amazed by the differences between them. I analysed two versions published on 2nd July 2004, one in The Independent, a newspaper with a 125 strong editorial position against the war in Iraq, and the other in The Daily Telegraph, which had supported the war. The differences were astonishing. Both claimed to be edited versions of the court proceedings, but both were different in terms of information supplied, the structure of the questioning and responses, the choreography of the event (in one version we are told that the judges reply cannot be

heard, whilst the other version has the judge giving an instruction to the court clerk) and the tone. (Bassnett, 2004_05: 177) In The Independent, Saddams speeches are longer and he appears as more aggressive and belligerent. The Independent also carried a prefatory statement pointing out that some parts of the conversation were not included in the original transcript, but giving no hint as to where they might have come from. The Daily Telegraph version has shorter speeches from both parties, the judge apparently much more in control of the situation and several asides set out in brackets, indicating that one or other of the parties was talking to a particular person. This version appears more like a playscript, perhaps taking up the point made in The Daily Telegraph attributed to Saddam, when he complained that the court appearance was staged by President Bush as part of his election campaign. There is no reference to this accusation in The Independent. It is prominent, however, in the very short version published in the London Evening Standard on 1st July 2004. This version claims to be a full transcript but is considerably shorter than either of the other two versions analysed. The CBS News website published extracts from the transcript, using direct speech but with a strong narrative linking text. We are told that Saddam tried to interrupt several times, but that the judge cut him off. On hearing the charge against him concerning the invasion of Kuwait, we are told that Saddams eyes flashed in anger. We are also told that as he spoke, he frequently stroked a neatly trimmed salt and pepper beard and dark moustache. These descriptive elements add a visual dimension, while the tone of the occasion is supplied by comments such as the one cited above by Frank Rubino. Some elements are common to all the versions: the altercation with the judge over his legal authority, the refusal to sign a document listing his rights at the end of the hearing, the judges dismissal and his earlier reprimand to Saddam when he refers to Kuwaitis in offensive terms. But the differences between the versions reflect different degrees of textual manipulation for home consumption. If Saddam really did gain the upper hand in court, there is nothing in the transcripts provided by CBS, The Evening Standard or The Daily Telegraph to suggest that this happened, and though the Saddam represented in The Independent appears more dignified than in other versions, he certainly does not appear to wrest control from the judge whose behaviour comes across as calm and perfectly proper. What we have no idea about, of course, is how the exchange sounded in Arabic, whether Saddams language did indeed dominate the proceedings. One reason why we have difficulty grasping what may or may not have happened, quite apart from the ideological bias of TV channels and newspapers, is the gulf that divides Anglo-Saxon political rhetoric from much of the 126 rest of the world, the Middle East in particular. This divide can be traced to systemic differences that are cultural, sociological and political, but our understanding of those differences is mediated by language. Curiously, given the tendency to acculturation that prevails in news reporting, there is also a convention of deliberately highlighting foreign elements in the speeches of certain political figures, a convention that serves not to make us more aware of what they are saying, but rather to emphasise their strangeness and reinforce the distance that separates the Western world from such figures. Foreignisation as Alienation

Venuti has proposed that foreignisation as a translation strategy may be more ethical than a translation strategy which seeks to elide difference between texts produced in different contexts. He also suggests, drawing upon German Romantic theories, that foreignising translation can be a form of resistance to ethnocentric violence. But in the world of news reporting, foreignisation can function rather differently. Let us take as an example a speech by Saddam Hussein delivered on Iraqi television and published in The Guardian on 6th January 2003. The translator has worked from a printed version, but has made no attempt to rework the speech for an Anglophone audience. The result is a text full of awkward English phrases that are sometimes meaningless (victory . . . is at hand having already existed in their chests), hyperbolic, overblown and often ridiculous. What are we to make of a sentence like the following: What raises history and elevates it to the status of belief is the fact that the sacred blood shed in the most crucial situations for our nation to assert its traits, and its mission to augment its everlasting contribution to humanity, has been the blood of the Mujahedeen who loved Allah and would therefore not hesitate to carry out their missions as designed by Allah the Almighty, along with the honour they had in carrying the Call of the Message of heaven to mankind as a whole, after spreading it to their own great nation. We can intuit that behind this garbled phrasing is a powerful rhetorical convention that draws upon a rich figurative language and is closely linked to religious discourse. None of that comes across in English. Elsewhere in the speech, are quasi-Biblical phrases like O ye who believe! and then bizarrely, a switch to politically correct gender pronouns (officials well-aware of his or her task). The effect on the reader is to create an impression of parody: this speech is so ridiculous that it might have been written by a comedy script-writer. The translator may have sought to reproduce accurately a text that followed acceptable Arabic conventions, but by doing this, rather than by acculturating the speech into a rhetoric that target readers might understand, the result is that Saddams words are not only not taken seriously, they reinforce media representations of him as a mad dictator. Acculturation is essential in news reporting. There may be some basis for arguments against acculturated translation in the literary field, but in cases like the above, foreignisation is detrimental to understanding. What would 127 deserve close attention is the way in which foreignising and acculturating strategies in English vary where highly political speeches or public statements are concerned. The effect of preserving elements of a discourse that will be misunderstood by target readers may not be accidental. Basil Hatim and Ian Mason in their useful book on communication in translation consider a range of case studies, several of which involve English and Arabic and note the completely different universes of discourse from which texts emanate. They point out that the kind of register shifts considered entirely appropriate in Arabic and in Farsi become inappropriate if translated into English. Combining genres and discourses can be desirable in one context, disconcerting or unacceptable in another. Good political rhetorical style in English relies on greater consistency of language and tone, and where Biblical or poetic language is used, the effect is to highlight such moments and signal to an audience that something significant is being said. In a system where the mixing of modes is unproblematic, quotations, literary or religious references and shifts of register consequently may not mark anything in particular. When such texts are translated, however, they are read quite differently. What was unmarked in one system may then become foregrounded in another, to the detriment of understanding.

For it is also the case that there are values attached to language usage. English is a valueintensive language, where shifts of register can signal major shifts of meaning and of position. Speakers who do not follow established rhetorical codes may be misunderstood or rejected. If those speakers are foreign politicians who have been demonised in the media already, then their language, translated so closely as to preserve the foreignness, will reinforce the negative perceptions. In a recent essay that considers another similar case of foreignized translation, I analysed the translation, by Reuters, of a statement by an al-Qaida group following the bombing of the British consulate in Istanbul in November 2003, which killed a number of people (Bassnett, 2005). The statement was headlined in the British press as The cars of death will not stop. Again, this was a foreignized version, full of antiquated language, apocalyptic phrasing, the use of the vocative and the strangely un-English phrase cars of death instead of the standard suicide bombers or car bombs. The effect was to distance the producers of the text from Western reality by highlighting their resistance to modernity through the language they chose to use. The archaic phrasing and religious references contribute to the image of people unable or unwilling to operate in the contemporary world. Through their language, they become the enemies of modernity. Translators dealing with this kind of text have a choice to make. Since the language of alQaida statements is not standard everyday Arabic and is filled with religiosity and formulaic structures, translators who opt for a literal approach with a minimum amount of rewriting will inevitably produce a text in English that sounds very strange. Arabicspeaking colleagues insist that the same texts also sound strange to them, so it could be argued that the only honest translation is one that reproduces the strangeness of the original. But it could also be argued that news translation is a long way away from literary translation, and the criteria that should prevail need to be premised on a clear sense of the function of the translation, on what it is supposed to do. In the 128 case of the al-Qaida statement, its purpose was to stress the seriousness of the groups commitment to armed struggle and its intention to continue waging war on Western values. In the case of the Saddam Hussein speech, the intention was to motivate the Iraqi people to stand firm against the rest of the world. The former was therefore written for Western consumption in the first place, the latter for home consumption, though with the secondary intention of reaching an international audience also. What might have been the impact of acculturating both these and similar texts? We can speculate that one result might have been that reading versions in standard English, Anglophone readers might have focused more on the content of the message rather than being alienated by what seems to be bizarre, if not downright ridiculous, language. Certainly the transcript of the Saddam Hussein court appearance is acculturated, so that it is difficult to reconcile the man responding in what is rendered as plain, modern English to the judges questions with the man calling upon his countrymen to shed their sacred blood. Unless, of course, a scenario is constructed that presents the fallen dictator as humbled linguistically, a reading that would fit in with the views expressed by many Western commentators and political figures. What seems to have happened in these cases is that the translation strategy employed derives from literary methods, in contrast to the news reporting strategy that privileges acculturation as we see in the court transcript. The result of these two methods is the creation of an uneasy, unbalanced view of people deemed to be enemies of the West,

whose identities are constructed through the peculiar language in which their ideas are conveyed. Foreignising in such cases is not resistance, it is a form of textual violence that would have been avoided through acculturation. Conclusion In an essay that studies political discourse analysis from a translation studies perspective, Christina Schffner argues that translations reveal the impact of a range of different conventions, norms and constraints. She is interested in linking translations to social contexts and so seeking to uncover both the causes and effects of translation in different systems. She sets out an interesting list of questions that need to be taken on board by future research: What causal conditions (seem to) give rise to particular kinds of translations and translation profile features? What effects do given profile features (seem) to have on readers, clients, cultures? (How) can we explain effects that we find by relating them to profile features and to causal conditions? Which translation strategies produce which results and which effects? Which particular socio-cultural and ideological constraints influence the translation policy in general and the target text production in particular? (Schaffner, 2004: 137) These questions can all be raised with regard to news translation, though here it is important to note that this type of translation may be closer to interpreting, even though the final product may be a written text. What does seem clear, though, is that the debates which have dominated thinking in 129 literary translation theory do not serve much purpose when we start to analyse the shaping forces behind the production of news translation. Indeed, we lack a definition of what translation in the news context actually is: the processes of textual manipulation that take place inter- and intra-lingually suggest that we might need a new term altogether. What we can see, however, is that regardless of terminological distinction, the prevailing norm in news translation is that of acculturation. Interestingly, this norm is not limited to the English-speaking world: Italian and Spanish versions of the cars of death statement, almost certainly translated from English rather than from an Arabic source, acculturated into the standard language. Comparison of translation strategies employed in different languages is part of our ongoing research, and will allow us to reflect on whether there are globalising tendencies in news translation that transcend linguistic and cultural expectations, or whether local horizons of expectation will always prevail. There is a great deal of work still to be done in this rich, underexplored field. Correspondence Any correspondence should be directed to Professor Susan Bassnett, University of Warwick, Centre for British, Comparative Cultural Studies, Coventry, CV4 7AL, UK (s.bassnett@warwick.ac.uk). References Bassnett, S. (2004_2005) What exactly did Saddam say? The Linguist 43 (6), 176_178.

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