The Changing Role of the Interpreter: Contextualising Norms, Ethics and Quality Standards 9781138657069, 9781315621531

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The Changing Role of the Interpreter

This volume provides a critical examination of quality in the interpreting profession by deconstructing the complex relationship between professional norms and ethical considerations in a variety of sociocultural contexts. Over the past two decades, the profession has compelled scholars and practitioners to take into account numerous factors concerning the provision and fulfilment of interpreting. Building on ideas that began to take shape during an international conference on interpreter-mediated interactions, commemorating Miriam Shlesinger, held in Rome in 2013, the book explores some of these issues by looking at the notion of quality through interpreters’ self-awareness of norms at work across a variety of professional settings, contextualising norms and quality in relation to ethical behaviour in everyday practice. Contributions from top researchers in the field create a comprehensive picture of the dynamic role of the interpreter as it has evolved, with key topics revisited by the addition of new contributions from established scholars in the field, fostering discussion and further reflection on important issues in the field of interpreting. This volume will be key reading for scholars, researchers and graduate students in interpreting and translation studies, pragmatics, discourse analysis and multilingualism. Marta Biagini is an adjunct professor in FIT Studies, Faculty of Interpreting and Translation, Università degli Studi Internazionali (UNINT) in Rome. She is member of the LARIM group (Research Laboratory on Interpretermediated interaction, UNINT) and associate member of CLESTHIA (Langage, Système, Discours, Sorbonne Nouvelle Paris 3). Michael S. Boyd is an English language lecturer in the Department of Foreign Languages, Literatures and Cultures at the University of Roma Tre and an Adjunct Professor in FIT Studies at the UNINT in Rome. Claudia Monacelli is Associate Professor at UNINT in Rome, where she coordinates the MA Interpreting track program. Formerly Director of the FIT Doctoral Program (2008–2011), she currently coordinates the LARIM research group (www.larim.eu).

Routledge Advances in Translation and Interpreting Studies

For a full list of titles in this series, please visit www.routledge.com 17 Consecutive Notetaking and Interpreter Training Edited by Yasumasa Someya 18 Queer in Translation Edited by B. J. Epstein and Robert Gillett 19 Critical Translation Studies Douglas Robinson 20 Feminist Translation Studies Local and Transnational Perspectives Edited by Olga Castro and Emek Ergun 21 Studying Scientific Metaphor in Translation An Inquiry into Cross-Lingual Translation Practices Mark Shuttleworth 22 Translating Frantz Fanon Across Continents and Languages Edited by Kathryn Batchelor and Sue-Ann Harding 23 Translation and Public Policy Interdisciplinary Perspectives and Case Studies Edited by Gabriel González Núñez and Reine Meylaerts 24 Translationality Essays in the Translational-Medical Humanities Douglas Robinson 25 The Changing Role of the Interpreter Contextualising Norms, Ethics and Quality Standards Edited by Marta Biagini, Michael S. Boyd and Claudia Monacelli

The Changing Role of the Interpreter Contextualising Norms, Ethics and Quality Standards Edited by Marta Biagini, Michael S. Boyd and Claudia Monacelli

First published 2017 by Routledge 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017 and by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2017 Taylor & Francis The right of the editors to be identified as the author of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A catalog record for this book has been requested ISBN: 978-1-138-65706-9 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-315-62153-1 (ebk) Typeset in Sabon by Apex CoVantage, LLC

Contents

List of Figures and Tables Acknowledgments Introduction: The Changing Role of the Interpreter Contextualising Norms, Ethics and Quality Standards

vii ix

1

MARTA BIAGINI, MICHAEL S. BOYD AND CLAUDIA MONACELLI

PART I

A Dynamic Sociocultural Perspective of the Interpreter’s Role 1 Fictional vs. Professional Interpreters

5 7

NITSA BEN-ARI

2 Interpreting as a Postmodern Profession: A Socio-Historical Approach

32

PAOLA GENTILE

3 Professional Self-Perception of the Social Role of Conference Interpreters

52

CORNELIA ZWISCHENBERGER

PART II

Ethical Challenges in a Changing Professional Role

75

4 Professional Roles and Responsibilities in Designated Interpreting

77

ANNETTE MINER

5 On Motivational Ethical Norms: From Defensive Interpreting to Effective Professional Practices GRAHAM TURNER AND BRETT BEST

102

vi

Contents

6 The Interpreter as Observer, Participant and Agent of Change: The Irresistible Entanglement Between Interpreting Ethics, Politics and Pedagogy

122

ŞEBNEM BAHADIR

PART III

Norms and Quality in Changing Professional Practices

147

7 Self-Awareness, Norms and Constraints: Dealing with Metaphors in Interpreter-Mediated Press Conferences

149

CHRISTINA SCHÄFFNER

8 Research on Television Interpreting: A Case of Flouted Norms

173

EUGENIA DAL FOVO

9 Professional Role, Norms and Ethics in Interpreting Studies Research

203

CLAUDIA MONACELLI AND MICHAEL S. BOYD

PART IV

Norms, Quality and Ethics: A Discussion

217

10 Norms Revisited

219

CARLO MARZOCCHI

11 Interpreter Role, Ethics and Norms: Linking to Professionalization

228

HELLE V. DAM

12 Norms, Ethics and Quality: The Challenges of Research

240

DANIEL GILE

Afterword: The Changing Role of the Interpreter Contextualising Norms, Ethics and Quality Standards: A Way Forward

251

MARTA BIAGINI, MICHAEL S. BOYD AND CLAUDIA MONACELLI

Bionotes: Authors, Discussants, Editors Index

257 260

Figures and Tables

Figures 3.1 3.2

Relative Importance of the Position of the Simultaneous Conference Interpreter Professional’s Satisfaction with Their Work

60 62

Tables 3.1

Taxonomy of the Reasons for Satisfaction (Free Responses) 3.2 Taxonomy of the Reasons for Dissatisfaction (Spontaneous Indications) 3.3 Relative Importance of Positive Feedback for Simultaneous Interpreters 4.1 Interpreter Demographics 8.1 OB.0811 Corpus 8.2 DEB.04 Corpus 8.3 Figures of Speech in OB.0811 8.4 Q Classification Grid (DEB.04 Corpus) 8.5 Q/A Degree of Conflictuality Grid (DEB.04 Corpus) 8.6 Example of Omitted Anaphora 8.7 Example of Omitted Anaphora Due to Lack of Syntactical Elements in the TL that Correspond to the SL Formulation 8.8 Example of Omitted Item of a Tricolon 8.9 Example of Omitted Item of a Tricolon 8.10 Example of Omitted Apostrophe 8.11 Example of Mitigation of Apostrophe-Pronoun: Direct Pronoun Turned into Indirect 8.12 Example of Mitigation of Apostrophe-Pronoun: Imperative Turned into Impersonal Modal

63 65 66 81 177 179 181 184 185 187

188 189 189 190 191 191

viii

Figures and Tables

8.13 Example of Conflict Mitigation Through Omission of Assertive Interrogative Clause (Q3a) 8.14 Example of Interpreter-Generated Conflict Buildup 8.15 Example of Conflict Initiation in the IT A, as a Result of Conflict Mitigation in the IT Q 9.1 The Mediation Process (Adapted from Roberts 2013) 9.2 Video Clips Examined in Case Study

194 195 197 205 210

Acknowledgments

We thank all the authors for their collaboration and their willingness to embark upon this adventure. Our special thanks go to discussants, who have painstakingly read all chapters and critically examined the contents, dissecting emerging ideas in an attempt to clarify particular areas and stress both strengths and weaknesses in our reasoning. We especially have valued the help given by anonymous reviewers, who have made it possible for us to fine-tune our work.

Introduction The Changing Role of the Interpreter Contextualising Norms, Ethics and Quality Standards* Marta Biagini, Michael S. Boyd and Claudia Monacelli The development of the interpreting profession over the past two decades has become diversified, as reflected in the contexts where interpreter-mediated interaction takes place: from international organisations to the variety of institutional settings at a national level. The profession has thus come to face numerous challenges in terms of what kinds of new clients there are, what languages are increasingly being used at national and the international levels and what cultural communities are more and more involved when public service interpreting is provided. Such variety undoubtedly influences the norms, ethics and quality standards in place. In fact, now—more than ever before—in the constantly changing and expanding field of interpreting, such issues beckon attention and have served as the inspiration for the present volume. As editors of this volume, our aim has been to approach the notion of quality through interpreters’ self-awareness of norms at work within any sociocultural context. This implies an emphasis on contextualised ethics—i.e. contextualising norms and quality in relation to self-perception and each practitioner’s ethical behaviour. Here we aim to take this premise one step further and critically examine how research now addresses these constructs. Moreover, research cannot reject the fundamental premise that the public at large has—at one point in time or another—been exposed to the work of interpreters or has had to rely on their work. To this end, our volume is also informed by the public’s preconceptions of what professional expertise in the field actually is. This implies that potential consumers of interpreting services may be influenced by certain expectations of what the provision of interpreting should be and by the knowledge of this profession that may be gleaned from our cultural backgrounds. Our choice to cover varied professional contexts, along with the intention to include an extended geographical representation in terms of research in Interpreting Studies, is aimed at providing a multidimensional overview of this dynamic area of research. The chapters in the work are therefore a reflection of the polyphonic nature of this field. In order to better frame the changing role of the interpreter, the backbone of the volume is formed by three thematic areas with

2

Introduction

each part containing three chapters. Part I highlights the dynamic sociocultural perspective of interpreting, Part II discusses ethical challenges to professionals in changing professional contexts and Part III focuses on contextualised norms and related quality standards. Part IV, the last section of the book, also consisting of three chapters, opens the floor to a discussion in which renowned authors, acting as discussants, provide a reflective and, at times, critical view of the issues dealt with in the volume. Of the contributions in the first three parts of the volume, we see the first (Chapter 1) and last (Chapter 9) chapters as framing our overall perspective—i.e. much of what happens in interpreting contexts indeed has a place in the “collective identity” (see Chapter 10)—often rife with stereotype. Typically, when someone imagines an interpreter as a world-travelling professional with a high-powered lifestyle, often misconstrued and romanticised to the point of constructing the professional role as one of inaccessibility. This creates, on the one hand, fertile ground for fictionalised accounts in both literature and film. On the other, in research circles, the notion of inaccessibility often has to be reckoned with and explored, since ethical issues concerning confidentiality abound. Thus, in Ben-Ari’s chapter, “Fictional vs. Professional Interpreters” (Chapter 1), the (mis)representation of interpreters in fiction as well as their analysis by professionals are explored. In Monacelli and Boyd’s chapter (Chapter 9), we see that analysing confidential settings can box researchers into constructing simulated data from which potential norms at play and the ethical choices made can be understood, leading to a tangible product where the resulting overall quality may be examined. Their work, however, also brings into question the validity of simulated data in Interpreting Studies. Such an approach, then, can be envisioned as relating to the construct of ‘in/accessibility’ which can be reimagined in terms of a gradient along a continuum: from accessibility through fiction to inaccessibility in confidential settings, as they are defined by the notion of simulated or, to go one step further, fictionalised encounters. Indeed, Chapter 1 deals with fictional contexts which defy scientific research, while Chapter 9 directly involves those contexts and realities that—by their very nature—are unavailable for scientific scrutiny, which ultimately raises the issue of research validity done on simulated encounters staged in these contexts. However, even in studies involving a final (interpreted) product, it is almost impossible to understand exactly what happens during the act of interpreting. Legal, ethical and practical reasons often bar analysts from having access to authentic settings where interpreter-mediated encounters are held, making it often necessary to recreate such encounters in a simulated environment. The intervening chapters in the first three parts of the volume (Chapters 2–8) provide a number of different approaches to the questions addressed in the volume. Both of the remaining chapters in Part I deal with how the profession is portrayed through different means. In Chapter 2, Paola Gentile provides a socio-historical perspective of interpreting as a postmodern

Introduction

3

profession. She speculates that the speed and flexibility particular to the globalised era has created the backdrop for the development of conference interpreting. This implies the forceful onset of the mass media as well as the technological advancement that have both served to defined—in many respects—who the interpreter is (in our mind’s eye) and how we go about our work. Paola Gentile shares her view of the historical evolution of the professional profile of conference interpreter, opening a window to the multiple changes that have transpired throughout the years and discusses potential implications for the future. In Chapter 3, Cornelia Zwischenberger carries out a study of conference interpreters’ social role as construed through professional self-perception. She points out that the concept of social role has always played a decisive role in the evolution of community interpreting research without, however, the role concept being sufficiently problematised in conference interpreting research. Starting from the premise that social norms constitute an integral part of any role-related expectations and thus of the construct of quality too. Her theoretical discussion is highlighted by the results from a survey undertaken among members of different professional associations. In Part II, the issue of ethical challenges emerges in relation to a changing professional role. Annette Miner (Chapter 4) examines the role of interpreters who work with Deaf professionals. The author describes how these interpreters—known as designated interpreters—come to perform specialised duties as a result of working in this specific context. Through a series of interviews, interpreter and professional respondents both discuss the unique role that interpreters have in these professional settings, as well as the unique relationship that develops between the interpreter and the Deaf professional. In Chapter 5, Graham Turner and Brett Best draw attention to the ‘inconsistent’ nature of the interpreter’s role, as illustrated in the literature and debate fora. They deal specifically with the medical community and make a parallel between the notion of ‘defensive medicine’ and, by analogy, ensuing ‘defensive interpreting’, stressing that, while ultimately serving the interests of the practitioner, the interests of the consumer fall by the wayside. They describe professional practices as being on a cline from defensive interpreting to effective professional (expository) interpreting, the latter ultimately more appropriately serving the interests of consumers. In Chapter 6, Şebnem Bahadır posits the position of the interpreter as a third party in communicative settings originally staged for two parties. In so doing, she introduces the notion of the interpreter as a professional participant observer. She distinguishes an interpreter’s self-perception and presentation in professional contexts as being linked to education and ethics on the job. She suggests a more critical look at the overall picture in order to rethink the interpreter’s position. Part III focuses specifically on norms and quality in the changing profession. Christina Schäffner (Chapter 7) discusses the implications of dealing with conceptual metaphors in conference interpreting. Conceptual

4

Introduction

Metaphor Theory, while widely applied in other linguistic fields, has generally been lacking in Interpreting Studies. She focuses her analysis on metaphors and essentially raises the question of how simultaneous interpreters deal with them. She discusses the possible higher cognitive effort needed by interpreters to deal with metaphors and the strategies adopted. She goes on to discuss the possibility that any strategic move may be seen as evidence of norms. In Chapter 8, Eugenia Dal Fovo considers norms and ethics in light of data from television interpreting. Her multimedia parallel corpora analysis draws on a number of televised U.S. political events with the aim of identifying discourse elements in both ST and (Italian) TT. Her study aims to identify discourse elements which operationalise the principle of infotainment, which she considers as the merging of agendas between politics and television. As noted earlier, in Chapter 9, Claudia Monacelli and Michael S. Boyd consider the role of ethics and norms in Interpreting Studies on a number of different interrelated levels, with a focus on the contextual constraints encountered by interpreters in civil proceedings mediation. The study draws on simulated data from the EU-funded project Understanding Justice focusing on the differences apparent in bilingual mediation that employ mediators as interpreters compared to professional interpreters in the same role. The authors surmise the potential need for more prescriptive norms for interpreters in civil mediation settings. Finally, the discussants in Part IV provide an overview of what they considered to be the most important issues to emerge from the individual chapters. Their contributions will be discussed in an afterword in which we make some general observations about themes presented in Chapters 10–12 and then return to Chapters 1–9 in light of the discussants’ observations. We then attempt to sketch a possible route for future research.

Note * While this introduction was created by the three editors, M. Biagini was mainly responsible pp. 1 and 4, M. Boyd for p. 2 and C. Monacelli for p. 3.

Part I

A Dynamic Sociocultural Perspective of the Interpreter’s Role

1

Fictional vs. Professional Interpreters Nitsa Ben-Ari

Conference interpreters are a rare commodity (AIIC)1 There are no more than a few hundred conference interpreters in even the largest of [ . . . ] cities, and only a few thousand in the whole world. The structure of demand for interpretation has changed over time, but the demand is still there. Given its linguistic diversity and historical tradition, Europe is still the largest interpreting market, but the requirements in other parts of the world, particularly Asia, are growing rapidly.

1.

Introduction

By 2012, the topic of interpreters’ representation in fiction had become so popular, that even Wikipedia supplied a list of language interpreters in fiction. “This profession is not a very common one, it is therefore quite surprising how many works of fiction make a try at depicting it with rather less than more accuracy”2 (emphasis mine). Translation Studies discovered the abundance of fictional translators/interpreters somewhat belatedly, although with such fervor that it earned Andrew Chesterman’s ironic title of Translator Studies. In previous essays, I joined in the discussion, suggesting some prototypes for fictional representations of translators/interpreters (Ben-Ari 2010, 2014): the postcolonial novel from the periphery, with the hybrid interpreter torn between conflicting loyalties, the postcolonial translator/interpreter who seems to be a fictional rendition of poststructural theories, the bestseller interpreter used mainly for thrillers, and last but not least, the would-be—though incompetent—interpreter (Safran Foer 2003: 1) or the equally incompetent interpreter malgré lui (Hasak-Lowy 2005), both used for parody. I suggested that, with parody, the flood of novels about translators/interpreters has exhausted itself, and that, concomitantly, so has research on the topic. And here I am adding some more observations—as a sort of closure, and tribute—that I feel we owe to the real people involved. I have decided to examine what professional interpreters have to say about their move into the spotlight and about their representation in fiction. I was interested both in their opinion of their literary counterparts and in their views on the literary depiction of their profession.

8

Nitsa Ben-Ari

My essay will therefore move in three directions. The first will briefly analyze eight recent postcolonial literary representations (those that interpreters reacted to). The second will give voice to the author, preferably if he/she had some experience in translating/interpreting. The third will present professional interpreters’ reactions to author and/or protagonist. Three types of ‘voices’ will thus be heard: that of the (real) author, that of the (fictional) protagonist, and that of the (real) professional interpreter. As you will see, they are not in agreement; the final part of this essay will therefore try to understand the reasons underlying the conflicting voices. I should perhaps explain my methodology, for it is not self-evident. First, in order to collect data on the reactions of real interpreters to their fictional counterparts, I planted key words, such as book titles or authors’ names, on the Internet, and then selected from the variety of reactions written by professed interpreters. The results collected are therefore a mixture of opinions, from learned articles to accidental blogs, located in a special section of the references. I did my best to distinguish between more ‘formal’ sites such as online magazine reviews, official blogs of official associations (i.e. AIIC3), and random personal blogs. For example, in one case, I found a discussion group organized around a bestselling novel. These Internet sources form my corpus, along with the novels they refer to.4 Second, I selected bestselling award-winning novels hoping they would have incited interpreters’ reactions on the web. I only looked up reactions to novels in English and French, and although they represent a large body of Internet users, I am sure that investigating titles in other languages could yield more significant results.

2.

Categories of Postcolonial Novels

Following my previous research (Ben-Ari 2010, 2014), I suggest discussing four categories of interpreters in twenty-first century postcolonial novels. The categories intermingle and are far from being clear-cut, so that my categorization is, of course, an artificial one: a.

The postcolonial hybrid interpreter with conflicting loyalties: The Blue Manuscript by Sabiha Al Khemir (2008), The Interpreter by Suki Kim (2003). b. The postcolonial hybrid interpreter in the midst of an identity crisis: The Mission Song by John le Carré (2006), The Bad Girl by Mario Vargas Llosa (2006). c. The postcolonial interpreter torn by moral and ethical issues: Small Wars by Sadie Jones (2009), The Interpreter by Alice Kaplan (2005). d. The interpreter who aspires to have a voice of his own, become a translator, or eventually an author: Bel Canto by Ann Patchett (2001), The Interpreter by Suzanne Glass (1999).

Fictional versus Professional Interpreters

9

These novels (and countless more) have interpreters as their main protagonists. As befits novel protagonists, the literary interpreters are all in the midst of a crisis. Most are brilliant in their jobs, and most will quit their jobs at the end of the novel, some in order to become literary translators or authors. The first book I would like to present is not a novel, but an academic publication, Wortklauber, Sinnverdreher, Brückenbauer Dolmetscher Innen und Übersetzer Innen als literarische Geschöpfe5 (Kurz and Kaindl 2005). I found a review of this book (Smith 2007) on the prestigious official site for conference interpreters, AIIC. His review makes a few elementary points, which will be repeated by critiques and posts elsewhere, so I find it helpful. Generally speaking, as opposed to reviews of fictional works, this non-fiction publication is handled carefully. The reason may stem from respect of the academy, even though Smith (Smith 2007) describes the collection as non-academic; it comprises 15 essays by what he calls “working professionals” discussing their work: “This book does not set out to provide an academic study of the interpreter in literature, but simply to give us a taste of how others view our lives and work”. It may also stem from Smith’s general impression that these professionals were fond of the fictional translators/interpreters they reviewed. He starts with the underlying pleasure of all interpreters of being promoted to the limelight, yet he seems cynical about their description and their raison d’être in the novel: The editors of this collection of essays know that we interpreters enjoy seeing ourselves depicted in book or film yet cannot help judging the accuracy of any description of our profession or its practitioners, even if the interpreter is no more than a convenient hook on which to hang the story within the confines of artistic license. (Smith 2007) As for the image of the interpreter, he agrees that interpreters can be viewed as outsiders, away from home, shouldering “the burden of bilingualism” (Smith 2007), overburdened by bilingualism: The thread that runs through all the reviewed stories is the interpreter as perpetual outsider, a person who does not live entirely in just one culture, but commutes between them and is therefore rootless and envious of those with a clear-cut identity. Language is often the well-spring of a firm sense of self. Home for an interpreter is his or her native language, yet because of where they live interpreters may have lost their mother tongue—they are geographically and linguistically adrift. The constant processing of the world around us that multilingualism brings can be a burden, and the interpreter may envy others the security of speaking just one language. (Smith 2007)

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Nitsa Ben-Ari

Smith’s main reservation has to do with the “miraculous” language acquisition of the fictional interpreters: “Interpreters in literature appear ready made with all their languages—by accident of birth or linguistic osmosis—and few authors appear aware that most of us have had to acquire our languages from scratch and learn our tradecraft” (Smith 2007). His second reservation is that not all interpreters received as much sympathy from the writer: The reviewers find the portrayals of interpreters generally sympathetic, even insightful, although our colleague Sergio Viaggio is clearly no fan of Javier Marías’ Corazón tan Blanco—the scene in the book where two interpreters work for a thinly veiled Margaret Thatcher and a thinly disguised Felipe González has acquired a kind of cult status amongst interpreters; I guess you either love it or hate it. On the whole, Smith compliments the collection of essays for its accessibility: “Each thought-provoking essay is short and deals with an individual work, which makes this a good book for dipping into” (Smith 2007). Let us then proceed with the individual works—i.e. the postcolonial fiction of the four categories I suggested. 2.1.

The Postcolonial Hybrid Caught Between Cultures

In the twenty-first century, novels about interpreters crossed from Europe and the United States to Asia and Africa, with an astonishing array of hybrid protagonists. Sabiha Al Khemir offers an interesting example with her Blue Manuscript (2008). Al Khemir is a Tunisian born writer, illustrator and expert in Islamic art, who lives in London. A Tunisian in London, a Francophone writing in English, the main character of the novel, Zohara, is at a crossroads where “four linguistic stations converge, with corresponding states of consciousness, narrative possibilities, and articulations of meaning. There are four stages of intertextual engagement, four distancing devices, four spaces of rupture, four broken bridges” (Omri 2006: 57).6 The protagonist of The Blue Manuscript is an interpreter (female) accompanying a group of archeologists (mostly male) on a quest for the Blue Qur’an. She is crippled by her shared Tunisian and English heritage. She will never find love, she says, for “every man who showed an interest in her was in harmony with only one side of her, not the other” (Al Khemir 2008: 136). As opposed to Homi Bhabha’s ‘Third Space’ theory in which the meeting between two cultures ultimately creates a third, shared one, Zohara sees no possibility of a shared oriental-occidental identity: “My mother the west, my father the east. I grew up in the chasm that separated them” (Al Khemir 2008: 160).

Fictional versus Professional Interpreters

11

Zohara’s attempt to bridge present and past Islamic tradition is a failure: She crossed barriers between people of different nationalities and felt like a ghost among them. But there was also the untranslatable. That which was unique, particular to each language and each culture and there were moments when she, the translator, felt trapped in that zone, the zone of the untranslatable. (Al Khemir 2008: 109, emphasis mine) The climax of the novel is that crucial moment when she is torn between her conflicting loyalties. She finds herself in a position where she knows that the blue manuscript ‘discovered’ by the archeological delegation is a fake. Will she be loyal to her employers, to Islamic tradition, to the east, to the west, to her own voice? Reacting to Zohara’s predicament, Omri (2006: 64) analyzes her difficulty in connecting, a direct result from her hybridity, at the same time revealing his understanding of the role of the interpreter a ‘mediator’, rather than a mere ‘go-between’: Is Zohara a weak go-between rather than a mediator, a translator in the cultural sense? She struggles with voice throughout: getting it, losing it, wanting to have it, being the voice of others. Zohara has an inherent memory. [. . .] but she is also inherently unable to express her connectedness: she will remain a translator, not the voice of the past. Is it because of her hybridity, being half English half Arab? And beyond her, is English capable of voicing this past? And even more fundamentally, is this past voiceable at all? Moreover, Omri (Omri 2006: 65) accuses the West of mutilating the great tradition of Islamic art: Zohara is able to feel the connection but not to grasp its sense. Her dual makeup prevents identification with one or the other of the selves that make her. The voice of the past has reached her, but she is not positioned to express it. Most crucial for the issue of voicing is the role of the West in mutilating the past. [. . .] In addition to bad art history and unworthy ancestors, Islamic art has been disfigured by the West. In the novel, the integrity of Ibn al-Warraq’s art and its wholeness has been violated at the hands of dealers. The Englishman Mr. Winston, who tore the pages of the blue Qur’an apart and sold them around the world, is guilty of nothing short of dismembering the whole and dispersing it across the world of commodity [. . .] Unlike Mr. Winston, Al Khemir attempts an act of re-membering classical Islamic art in her novel.

12

Nitsa Ben-Ari

Omri is particularly interested in the effect of Diaspora on Islamic citizens living away from home who, on the one hand, can express themselves more freely, while on the other hand experience their ambivalence more deeply. He asks whether Diaspora frees Al Khemir and his answer is: “Diaspora empowers voice and imposes silence” (Omri 2006: 104). In a way, he justifies Zohara’s inability to intervene, to reveal the truth about the fake manuscript. The Interpreter by Suki Kim (2003) is a different, though in many ways similar, case of hybrid torn loyalties that lead to paralysis. In it, the KoreanAmerican interpreter Suzy Park, who feels neither American nor Korean, accidentally finds out, while interpreting for the court, that her parents have been brutally murdered by a Korean mobster gang. Abandoning all ethical codes, she questions the witness on her own, while pretending to translate the investigator’s questions, and then launches her own private investigation to discover who the murderers were and why they shot her parents. In reality, she discovers much about her parents that was unknown to her, and ultimately about her own voicelessness and inability to connect. The author, Suki Kim, now a naturalized American citizen, was born in Seoul, South Korea, and immigrated to New York with her family at age 13. She graduated from Barnard College in 1992 and went on to study at the School of Oriental and African Studies in London. Before writing The Interpreter, she traveled extensively through writers’ colonies. She also did post-graduate studies in London specifically for Korean literature, where she learned translating. The novel was critically acclaimed and won the PEN Beyond Margins Award and the Gustavus Myers Outstanding Book Award. In an interview with Cindy Yoon in 2011, she discusses her split loyalties. The interview concentrates on her immigrant experience, on her resulting interpreting talents, and on learning the profession in order to better write the character. Yoon (2011, emphasis mine) explains why she insisted on interviewing Suki Kim, although Kim’s essay about her writing of The Interpreter had already appeared in the New York Times: “I wanted to hear her own voice”. Moreover, Yoon (2011) remarks that Kim’s debut novel breaks through the stereotypical images of the happy immigrant experience with a story of pain, loss, and murder, and asks whether this was Kim’s original intention: I don’t know how much of the stereotypical images I set out to break, but I certainly focused on the theme of interpreting from the beginning. Interpreting suggests duality. It is a position of translating two languages while traversing two worlds. At the same time, an interpreter by definition must stay neutral. I think it was the New York Times who said that The Interpreter is about the channeller of other people’s thoughts. Suzy Park, the heroine, is an acute observer who does everything to remain clear of involvement. Although she eventually breaks her cool, the novel starts out with a main character who is completely

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detached. Now, this premise is different from most Asian American stories, which are often sentimental because intrinsic in their set-up is memory. I wanted to find another way to deal with that memory. The detective angle, which pushed the novel to cross genres, was one of the ways to break that stereotype. Kim further adds in the interview: “Being bilingual, being multicultural should have brought two worlds into one heart and yet for Suzy, it meant a persistent hollowness” (Yoon 2011). She explains how when writing The Interpreter she lived the life of her protagonist, Suzy Park: I knew that Suzy Park was going to be an interpreter before I wrote the book. At first, I thought I could just do research on the internet or in books. But I soon realized that I needed to understand more thoroughly because interpreting was becoming more than one metaphor. So I called up interpreting agencies and passed their exams and interviews and worked as an interpreter at depositions. With each interpreting assignment, more ideas kept coming to me about the character and the plot. Suzy Park examines her life through interpreting but I was closely examining Suzy. I would be interpreting as Suki Kim but often I would suddenly get confused and think, “This is a chapter I just wrote”. Throughout the interview, Kim’s voice is loud and clear, now that she is an acclaimed author. How do interpreters react to her? Do they accept the fictional interpreter Suzy Park? Do they sympathize with her dilemma? How do they react to the fictionalized description of the interpreter’s job? A review of the novel on the AIIC site by Hyvärinen (2013) is quite favorable. It compliments author Kim on introducing not the glamorous world of international conference interpreters, but the grey routine of court interpreting: Suki Kim donne une image réaliste du travail de l’interprète, une profession qu’elle pratique certainement elle-même. Pas de glamour ni de limousines, pas de champagne dans des receptions clinquantes. C’est une agence qui lui indique où aller, quel jour et à quelle heure, en lui laissant un message sur son répondeur. Suzy Park envoie ensuite un compterendu de sa prestation et touche une rémunération qui ne semble pas être mirabolante. She also quotes a passage from the novel that, to her, explains what being an interpreter means—i.e. being in two places at once: It cannot be due to her bilingual upbringing, since not all immigrant kids make excellent interpreters. What she possesses is an ability to be at two places at once. She can hear a word and separate its literal

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Nitsa Ben-Ari meaning from its connotation. This is necessary, since the verbatim translation often leads to confusion. Languages are not logical. Thus an interpreter must translate word for word and yet somehow manipulate the breadth of language to bridge the gap. While one part of her brain does automatic conversion, the other part examines the linguistic void that results from such transference. It is an art that requires a precise and yet creative mind. Only the true solver knows that two plus two can suggest a lot of things before ending up at four. (Kim 2003: 90–91, cited in Hyvärinen 2013)

The reviewer on the AIIC site describes the neutrality, the impartiality that should be the interpreter’s guides, yet is also aware of the price an interpreter has to pay for this: L’auteur décrit aussi la neutralité et l’impartialité dont doit faire prevue l’interprète, même si elle se trouve entre le marteau de l’autorité américaine et l’enclume du compatriot interrogé: ‘The interpreter is the shadow. The key is to be invisible. . . One of the job requirements was no involvement: shut up and get the work done’. (Hyvärinen 2013) She then understands why Suzy Park has to quit her job, after touching on the mystery of her parents’ murder: Toutefois, lorsqu’elle commence à toucher à la vérité et à comprendre ce qui s’est tramé derrière la mort de ses parents, elle sent qu’elle doit renoncer à son role d’intermédiaire linguistique: “An interpreter cannot pick sides”. Elle efface tous les messages de l’agence et dort pendant des heures et des jours: “The dream of the interpreter who no longer remembers her language.” (Hyvärinen 2013) In an admiring tone, the reviewer describes the protagonist’s resistance to “Americanization”. Suki Kim proves that one can be at home in The Land of the Free and yet keep the pride of one’s roots: C’est l’histoire d’un double meurtre, mais c’est surtout l’histoire de deux cultures diamétralement opposées et de la difficulté de se trouver à cheval et en porte-à-faux entre les deux. La célébration de Thanksgiving semble être l’étalon absolu de l’américanité, quelque chose qui restera à jamais étranger et inaccessible à la génération 1.5 à laquelle appartient l’héroïne. La très belle plume de Suki Kim démontre toutefois qu’on peut très bien trouver sa place dans The Land of the Free, tout en gardant la fierté de ses raciness. (Hyvärinen 2013)

Fictional versus Professional Interpreters 2.2.

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The Interpreter in the Grip of an Identity Crisis

The Bad Girl (Travesuras de la niña mala) by Peruvian author Mario Vargas Llosa was published in 2006 and became an immediate bestseller. It has been translated into multiple languages. “The Bad Girl”, says Brendan Hughes (2008) from Amazon’s Words without Borders, is not only a story of thwarted love, it reveals a haunted swath of the third world Diaspora. Its characters are cast about the globe like seeds in the wind. Homeless in their adopted countries, the host of nationalities that populate the novel become the sum and subject of their ambitions and desires. The protagonist of the novel is an ex-Peruvian interpreter living in Paris and working for UNESCO. From early youth he dreamed of living in Paris, stubbornly refusing to take any part in the ongoing revolutions and bitter political strife tearing his motherland apart. Although he is depicted as an excellent interpreter in various languages, his interest in his job is tepid, and depends on the ups and downs of his love life. He is tormented by the Chilean bad girl—the femme fatale who keeps appearing in his life when she needs him. Kathryn Harrison (2007) of the New York Times Sunday Book Review comments that Ricardo’s work as an interpreter affords him ample opportunity to travel and reconnect with his jet-setting, self-reinventing love, who attaches herself like a succubus to one rich paramour after another, in one locale after another. Less welcome is the anxiety his job inspires about his identity. Paris of the 1960s, the culture in which Vargas Llosa came of intellectual age, witnessed the popularization of existential philosophy, and Ricardo judges himself not only deracinated, a perpetual foreigner, but also lacking in substance. He’s trapped in the moment of translating one person’s language into another’s, “of being present without being present, of existing but not existing”. The interpreter is there only when he is not, a humanlike figure who exists only when he ceases to be what he is, so as better to transfer what other people think and say. A cursory search among Internet sites quoting interviews with Vargas Llosa yielded no single reference to his choice of an interpreter as protagonist. Several real-life interpreters, however, reacted to the protagonist with angry voices. Such is the reaction of Danielle Gree (2008) in her book review on the AIIC site. The title of her entry is “Interpreter: An ‘Innocuous’ Profession?”, and it accuses Vargas Llosa of bearing a personal grudge against interpreters: Conference Interpreters are often misrepresented in literature and in motion pictures. They are portrayed either as remarkable individuals

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Nitsa Ben-Ari (The Interpreter by Sydney Pollack), or as pathetic parrots who merely repeat words in another language. Neither of these extremes really corresponds to our day-to-day experience, perhaps simply because the interpreter is merely used as the pretext for a good story. It is unfortunate however that an astute, intelligent and renowned writer and politician like Vargas Llosa portrays our profession in such inaccurate or even contemptuous terms. Could he be settling some personal quarrel?

Gree (2008) rejects the term ‘innocuous’: The reader wonders why the novelist has one of the characters say that interpreters are totally useless although at least they do no harm: “Contrary to other professions where you can inflict major damage to the species, like doctors and lawyers not to mention architects and politicians, interpreters are totally innocuous”. She criticizes the depiction of the conference interpreter whose “innocuous” profession enables him to “travel to his fancy, earn enough money and get time off whenever he likes. The amorous suitor even accepts poorly paid conferences in England for the simple pleasure of being closer to his ‘Bad Girl’” (Gree 2008). Like Smith, Gree (2008) also accuses Vargas Llosa of a superficial approach to language acquisition: The “Good boy”, El niño bueno, had studied French and English in school and after some language study settled down in Paris as a translator. He then took night classes to become an interpreter while studying Russian on the side. At the end of this brief course of study he announces that he “knew enough to be a good interpreter because he knew the vocabulary although without necessarily understanding the meaning”! He starts interpreting from Russian while still studying, admitting that his mastery of the language is not as good as that of his other languages. On top of that, the Good Boy infuriates the reviewer by admitting he has no interest whatsoever in current affairs or in intellectuals of the day: He admits that he is only vaguely interested in current events and is totally immune to the fascination for the intellectuals of the day such as Barthes, Lacan, Derrida, Deleuze and others who are the talk of the town. Getting another colleague to replace him for half days enables him to while away the time in more pleasant pursuit. Yet this very same exceptional professional complains that it is so hard to get his first contracts as an interpreter because “this is a tighter network than that of translators, and the professional associations, real mafias, admit new members sparingly”. [. . .] We professional conference interpreters know how difficult

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it is to learn a foreign language. Each language is complex and evolves continually thus making the mastery of a foreign language an endless task. But it is especially because a language is not just a concatenation of words but rather an entire universe of culture, history, customs and idiosyncrasies. Contrary to what many people may think, we never just translate words but rather the underlying meaning in relationship to a context, which requires the understanding of a set of cultural references. Good interpretation requires understanding the discourse and transposing it into another linguistic universe. [. . .] Contrary to Vargas Llosa’s hero, professionals keep up on current events and take a keen interest in major trends the world around. This insatiable intellectual curiosity is a source of pleasure as is the exercise of our profession. We are neither suffering from frustration nor unsuccessful writers; we are motivated by a love of language and communication. (Gree 2008) Here the reviewer breaks into a eulogy of the profession and offers a ‘friendly’ piece of advice to Vargas Llosa: Our profession, which has existed since time immemorial, is presented as negligible and yet the primary characteristic of human beings is to communicate. Such communication would be impossible without the “dragomans”. The accused in International Criminal Tribunals—who entrust their fate to interpreters—the doctors who receive training through video conferences interpreted live, the heads of state who negotiate with our help, rarely consider us superfluous. (Gree 2008) It seems as if Gree (2008) needs to justify and defend the AIIC standards: As for the role of professional associations, it is far more positive than Vargas Llosa implies. AIIC negotiates working conditions and remuneration with international organisations thereby sparing colleagues the fate that Vargas Llosa refers to for some literary translators who, for the translation of Ivan Bounin “are paid just enough to buy a couple of cappuccinos!” AIIC defines strict and demanding admission criteria and in so doing guarantees the professional skills and code of conduct of its members. This is a guarantee both for members and for the users of professional interpretation. Someday, Mr. Vargas Llosa, when you are awarded the Nobel Prize for literature, it might just be in your interest that the pichiruchi in the interpretation booth be an AIIC member. A no-less famous depiction of the interpreter’s dilemma is The Mission Song by John le Carré, featuring Bruno Salvador (Salvo), a language interpreter. Highly skilled in a number of African languages and dialects, he is

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chosen for a weekend conference at which some private British interests join forces with three warlords from Congo to establish a revered figure, the Mwangaza, as ruler. Salvo’s hybrid background provides him with an arsenal of languages. He is the orphaned son of an Irish Catholic Priest and a Congolese woman, hence the hint of salvation in his name. He is married to Penelope, but falls in love (in England) with a Congolese nurse named Hannah. Salvo loves Hannah and Congo and cannot allow the coup to take place. He tries to do the right things, but those to whom he turns always have another layer to be unpeeled. The Mission Song evoked a lengthy, somewhat boastful, post by Neil Cumming (2012). Cumming (2012) enjoyed the “bond-esque” allure the novel grants interpreters, though I doubt if he had seriously studied Bruno Salvador, who is far from being an ‘action hero’, and makes all sorts of blunders, systematically trusting the wrong people. A lot of interpreters tend to think of themselves as the action heroes of international conferencing, even if it is all a bit less James Bond-esque than it used to be. We can never say so, of course, and just like the spy who can never tell anyone about the countless times he’s saved the world from impending disaster, the interpreter must never let on to the rest of the people in the room just how important he really is! Cumming (2012) thanks le Carré for showing the world how “cool” interpreters are: Mercifully, every so often a book or a film comes along that confirms what we all know to be true: interpreters are cool. So thank you, John le Carré, for providing us with a character whose quirky chic is every bit the equal of Nicole Kidman’s faux-exotic accented, flute-playing dictator hunter in The Interpreter. Bruno Salvador (Salvo), the hero of The Mission Song (2006), is the mixed-race son of an Irish missionary and a Congolese native, a ward of the British State, graduate of SOAS and achieves what most of us can only dream of—he manages to combine corporate work, PSI work in London hospitals, and also does the odd bit of work for MI6. Casual. He speaks English, French, Swahili, along with a host of other (presumably Bantu) East-African languages. And as if all that wasn’t enough, he has an obsession with men’s fashion.

2.3.

The Interpreter Tormented by Moral or Ethical Issues

The third category to be discussed comprises novels dealing with the interpreter’s moral or ethical issue, of which two examples will be Sadie Jones’s Small Wars (2009) and Alice Kaplan’s The Interpreter (2005). Both deal with wartime atrocities.

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The first, Small Wars, by Sadie Jones, presents a British army officer posted in Cyprus in the 1950s, one of the bloody periods when the island was torn by war. The EOKA terrorists were fighting for independence from Britain and union with Greece. However, as Cyprus was considered by Britain to be a vital outpost of the Empire, the uprising had to be stopped. The novel also features a naïve army interpreter, Davis, and a review of the novel in The Guardian depicts him as one “who feels each descent from interrogation into torture as a failure of his own protective powers as a go-between” (Jordan 2009). In her interview with Sadie Jones entitled “Even When We Do Talk, We Often Lie”, held by Eva Weisman, Jones reveals that the inspiration for the protagonist was Flt Lt Kendall-Smith, the first British officer to face criminal charges for challenging the war against Iraq. In 2006, he was jailed when he refused to serve, saying it was an “illegal occupation”: “‘I was looking for Hal and then I found him’, says Jones, whose character is court-martialled when he refuses to return from Britain.” The author’s voice becomes different when she talks about the moral dilemma, says Weisman (2009): Until now, her voice has been deep, posh and considered; now she speeds up into a clipped but rapid verbal sprint. “I’d never thought about soldiers before then,” she says. “I don’t know anyone in the military and I’ve never thought about soldiers beyond thinking they were probably all brainwashed. I had a quasi-liberal, pacifist-urban-artsy approach to it all, so when I met real soldiers I made about 50 U-turns in my thinking. I observed courts-martial. Suddenly I had a story, an interesting story, because it wasn’t just my vague polemic”. It is not surprising that Jones is a hybrid, who grew up “undercover black”, as she says, and wrote about being half Jamaican. Her father, poet Evan Jones, had pale skin, but when he arrived at a station in the American south on his way to college in the 1940s, he was bewildered by the two waiting rooms, one for “whites” and one for “coloureds”. He stayed on the platform, Jones said, and has been on the platform ever since. When I was younger, there was a separateness and otherness that was definitely an issue [. . .]. I didn’t fit in at school—I was not one of the blonde Emilys or Catherines. But school is a terrible thing. I thought I was a depressive until I left at 16. I just didn’t get on. I wasn’t good at things, and I wasn’t even a happy rebel—I was reluctant and miserable. (cited in Weisman 2009) I have to report that no interpreter reacted to this novel, at least none that could be found with a search of the title or author’s name. The only reaction to Davis, the army interpreter, was the somewhat hostile comment of a blogger, Erika (2013), whose identity is vague, and we do not know whether

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she is a professional interpreter: “The character I most disliked though was Davis who seemed to have a conscience and be totally effected by what was happening but yet do nothing about it and bury his head in the sand”. It is hard to say whether the lack of reactions is due to the novel’s relative anonymity, or the interpreter’s lack of glamour. However, if professional interpreters claim that they are more than just ‘go-betweens’, the next novel is a significant example. It is The Interpreter by Alice Kaplan and also deals with the interpreter’s moral judgment of a court-martial he has witnessed. Unlike Sadie Jones’s Small Wars, this novel evoked several reactions from professional interpreters. The historical background is the following: during the liberation of France between 1943 and 1946, the American army executed 70 of its own soldiers, most of them black, in an army that was overwhelmingly white. Kaplan narrates two different trials: one of a white officer, one of a black soldier, both accused of murder. Both were court-martialed in the same room, yet with two very different verdicts. The story is presented through the eyes of the horrified French interpreter Louis Guilloux. Interestingly, this novel is taken more seriously by interpreters and is considered more as a history book than a novel. The review “Language in the News” mentions Kaplan’s novel in the AIIC 2007 issue. The reviewer Luccarelli (2007) provides a historical background and states that Kaplan “combines extraordinary research and brilliant writing to recover the story both as Guilloux first saw it, and as it still haunts us today”. Luccarelli cites the French reviewer Marc Riglet, for the French weekly magazine L’express (2007), acquainted with Guilloux’s book, O.K., Joe: Louis Guilloux examined the same period in his book OK, Joe. “Peut-être cette histoire vous rappelle-t-elle quelque chose. Si vous avez lu Louis Guilloux—pas seulement Le sang noir, publié chez Gallimard, mais la nouvelle intitulée O.K., Joe—alors, vous y êtes. In a review praising the contribution of interpreters to world history in general and to minority groups in particular, Kelly (2007: original emphasis) presents the Internet project From Our Lips to Your Ears: How Interpreters Are Changing the World: In the case of this interpreter, through whose eyes Kaplan allows readers to see a unique perspective in history, the issues surrounding racial disparities were impossible to ignore. While this is an extreme example, as interpreters, we assist members of minority groups constantly as part of our daily work, and many of us are representatives of minority groups ourselves. I am sure that many interpreters will find relevance and parallels in the viewpoints offered in Kaplan’s book.

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The question of the interpreter’s own voice appears, though without any intervention power: So often, interpreters are portrayed using the dry and inaccurate “parrot analogy”, without acknowledgment of the fact that interpreters are human beings, participants, in many ways, of the events and communication acts taking place, not just in our presence, but with our presence. Given the significance of what Guilloux experienced as an interpreter, I venture to say he would probably agree. (Kelly 2007, original emphasis) In her post, Kelly mentions that she came across a discussion guide for this book online, and it “posed a very interesting question” concerning the moral issue then and today: For French writer Louis Guilloux, being an interpreter was much more than just a wartime profession. What did serving as an interpreter mean to him, and how did he embrace this role both during the courts-martial and throughout his life? This question is an interesting one to reflect upon, especially in the context of our project. What parallels are there between Guilloux’s view about his work, what it meant to him, and the views we, present-day interpreters, hold of our own? I hope that some answers to this question will be revealed through the From Our Lips to Your Ears project. Certainly, Alice Kaplan has given us a banquet of food for thought. (Kelly 2007, original emphasis) Another significant review is offered by Steve Moyer. It is a very thorough review, published in the U.S. government (NEH) magazine Humanities. Moyer, a professional translator who has also worked as an interpreter, is an editorial assistant at the magazine. This being a government publication, it is perhaps not surprising that he is more interested in the French-English translation issue than in the court-martial one: Kaplan says Guilloux provided a kind of language lesson in his novel, inserting English phrases he heard while talking to the GIs and then translating them for his French readers. For Kaplan, translating these sections of the novel into English became problematic. She had to drop them eventually from her translation since Guilloux’s clarifications about English couldn’t have the same effect on Kaplan’s readers as they had on Guilloux’s. (Moyer 2008)

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As both translator and interpreter, Moyer provides a humorous view of the difference between the two professionals: The difference between an interpreter and a translator can be summed up like this: If you’re at a party where there’s an interpreter and a translator and there’s someone there who’s terribly chic and well-coiffed and carrying on every conversation with ease, that’s the interpreter, and if there’s someone else there who’s a little disheveled and somewhat shy, with a quiver of pens and pencils in his shirt pocket, that’s the translator. Guilloux was undoubtedly more comfortable as a translator, and he did make a few mistakes while interpreting, Kaplan says. (Moyer 2008) Moyer examines the novel through the lens of language, producing examples of misunderstanding of American expressions, yet he praises Guilloux’s achievement: Many of our notions of interpreting come from watching highly skilled and trained U.N. interpreters who repeat simultaneously, and seemingly effortlessly, in the target language what is being said in the source language. Guilloux, however, would have been performing what we think of as consecutive interpretation, a summing up of sentences or even paragraphs, which demands tremendous short-term and long-term memory and a grasp of subtle nuance in both languages, just the thing Guilloux excelled at. (Moyer 2008) Moyer understands, however, that Guilloux’s expertise was not Kaplan’s focal point, and quotes her saying: “The great thing about examining events through the lens of another language and culture is getting to look at ourselves differently—seeing ourselves the way others see us” (Moyer 2008). 2.4

The Interpreter Who Aspires to Have a Voice of His Own

Among the many novels in this category, I selected two bestsellers, hoping to find more Internet reactions: Bel Canto by Ann Patchett (2001) and The Interpreter by Suzanne Glass (1999). Bel Canto was awarded prestigious prizes such as the Orange Prize for Fiction and PEN/Faulkner Award for Fiction. It was placed on numerous top book lists, such as the Amazon’s Best Books of the Year for 2001. Based on a true episode, the book is about a group of terrorists who hold high executives and people of high political standing hostage. It explores how the terrorists and hostages cope with living in a house together for several months. Many of the characters form unbreakable bonds of friendship and

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even love, mostly made possible by the services of the professional (and very gifted) interpreter, Gen Watanabe, who happens to be among them. After the novel’s gruesome denouement, the interpreter, Gen, becomes a translator. He says, “I mostly translate books now. It leaves my schedule more flexible. I like to go to rehearsals with Roxane (the opera singer)” (Pachett 2005 [2001]: 316). The novel was reviewed by Daniel Mendelsohn (2001) in the New York Magazine Book Review section. His review entitled “Ransome Notes” seems to describe the interpreter in a slightly cynical tone: Despite its incremental pace, this story, like all fables, is one in which miraculous transformations take place. [. . .] [the] interpreter, the shy Gen Watanabe, a “genius” at languages who “was often at a loss for what to say when left with only his own words,” becomes a person of great authority, indispensable to the smooth running of the polyglot household. However, several interpreters’ bloggers commenting on this book posted admiring views of Gen. One is Emma in Emma’s Book Reviews (2001): It is not only the music that brings this group of people together. Coming from different countries, they cannot communicate with each other. Gen, Mr Hosokawa’s interpreter becomes the most important person in the whole scenario. He is the consummate professional interpreter-like a machine he lets most conversations barely lick the surface of his mind, let alone touch his emotions. But he is now in a situation like no other interpreting job he had before, for his life is at stake, as is his employer’s for whom he has a deep respect. Gen’s sense of diplomacy, his calm thoughtfulness and his brilliant mind make him an excellent conduit for everything from requests from the terrorists to the Red Cross, to love declarations for Roxane from long-winded Russians. Another lengthy post, consisting mostly of women’s voices—as far as one can judge from the (nick-) names—and by translators/interpreters such as Sarah T, who adds a pedantic yet passionate distinction between interpreter and translator. I would not have cited this, were it not for her concept of the “power” in the hands of the interpreter to convey only what he thinks “appropriate”: However, there is one point I’d like to make, if I may, and it is a technical one: Patchett uses the word “translator” throughout while “interpreter” would have been more proper because there is a huge difference between a translator and an interpreter. A translator works from a written document—letters, a book etc. and translates the complete text unaltered from one language to another. An interpreter, on the other

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Nitsa Ben-Ari hand, works with people who speak different languages, and he/she has the ability—and considerably more leeway—to convey (only) what he/ she thinks “appropriate” in (or omit from) a conversation, and can do so in whatever form and nuances he/she chooses. There is ample proof in our book that Gen did precisely that. He interpreted he moderated. (Yes in the end, as I recall, he became a real translator, but I must check that out.) It is easy to see that the power, if you will, of an interpreter is much greater than that of a translator, who—after all- has to adhere to a written text which can be checked and verified. Verbal utterances cannot (emphases hers).

Is Gen only a favorite of the ladies? Marjorie’s comment to Sarah T (2002) shows a marked sympathy for the interpreter, always a ‘giver’, never a ‘taker’: I was so happy for Gen when he finally began to take something for himself. Not only was he the interpreter, but did you notice how the household began using him as errand boy as well? I felt for him, and he was too nice to say no. I enjoyed it when he finally began to break the rules a bit and take something for himself. He really deserved—and needed—love. While, according to biographical info the author of Bel Canto had no experience in interpreting (see, for instance, Rustin 2011), the second novel in this category was written by a professional interpreter. Born in Edinburgh, Scotland, Suzanne Glass got a Masters in simultaneous interpreting at the University of Zurich. She then spent five years as a simultaneous interpreter, before getting a graduate degree in journalism. After pursuing a successful journalistic career, she finally found her true vocation with her well-received first novel, The Interpreter. Adding to her popularity was the fact that the novel, inspired by her early career, was credited in the Hollywood film of the same name starring Nicole Kidman and Sean Penn, in 2005. This is Glass’s voice, in an early interview on “Interpreting” for Indiebound,7 Words have always been my passion. [. . .] Foreign languages are in my blood. My grandparents were German-Jewish refugees, and my father conducted much of his business with France, and so the sounds of foreign tongues were always wafting around. (Glass 2001) In the interview published later (Glass 2006), after her play The Milliner was staged on Broadway, she explains her love of language as inherited from her immigrant German-Jewish grandfather: My grandfather was a hat-maker, a pianist, a linguist and—above all—a Berliner. Cultured, handsome and creative, like so many of his fellow

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German Jews in the Nazi era, he was forced to leave his homeland for London to live amongst the Brits. He thought of his new countrymen as “gray-faced introverts with defective taste chromosomes.” He never enjoyed being among them and they, in turn, never exactly welcomed him with open arms. His accent was too German. They were confused. Was he a German or a Jew? She describes the process of finally becoming an author as that of “finding her own voice”: As a simultaneous interpreter in the EU, I regurgitated other people’s words. As a journalist and interviewer, I interpreted and redistributed the thoughts and ideas of the famous. But I finally found my own voice as an author, creating characters who would speak my words, convey my views and come to life in the pages of my novels. (Glass 2001) Regardless of the author’s vast professional experience, interpreters’ posts following the publication of Glass’s The Interpreter, or following the movie, were the most virulent. Is it because Dominique is weak, feminine, an embodiment of the translator cliché? One of the cruelest reviews was written by Kenneth Colgan, a member of AIIC, seemingly a colleague, for he is—as he specifies in his review—a staff interpreter in the English booth in the European Parliament. His review from 2008 is most critical (and cynical) of the protagonist’s professional portrait. He uses the sharpest arrows of rhetoric to denigrate the protagonist, Dominique Green: Dominique Green is an interpreter. She is a brilliant interpreter. She’s too modest to tell us this herself, of course, but fortunately lots of other characters are on hand in the book to let us know how wonderful she is. Dominique is “the eighth wonder of the world”, “a born interpreter”, the “star translator” of the agency where she works (it’s in Manhattan, so we can let the use of the word “translator” in this context pass), a “brilliant interpreter”. “I know you’re brilliant at what you do,” says her boyfriend Paul. Actually, Paul is no longer Dominique’s boyfriend at this point. [. . .] he’s clearly not a suitable companion for her, and is unceremoniously dumped in the book’s only good scene. His replacement is Nicholas Manzini. Nicholas is a medical researcher. Not just any old medical researcher, of course: he is “a star performer”, “a genius.” He meets Dominique at a conference where she’s working and he’s a delegate. Naturally, her superlative interpreting skills are not lost on him. (Colgan 2008, emphases his) Colgan (2008) finds two major faults with the presentation of the interpreter: the credibility of the theme “interpreters have no voice of their

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own”, and the credibility of describing the interpreter working in the booth: This brings us to the real theme of the book, and its author’s views on the profession: interpreters, according to Glass, spend so much time in other people’s heads that they have no ‘voice’ (used in the book to stand for independence, autonomy) of their own. This vaguely condescending idea is introduced explicitly into the book with Glass’ characteristic mix of heavy-handedness and bad dialogue [ . . . ] “Reserved and reticent Ms Green seems to be finding that voice of hers” remarks a journalist pal as Dominique begins to awaken; and, when she mentions the AIDS breakthrough to her (and Mischa’s) friend Anna (thus breaking the sacred vow of confidentiality, by the way, although no one seems to notice), Anna gasps, “don’t you have a voice?” Colgan (2008) does not seem to agree that the interpreter lacks a voice, on the contrary: But this is all nonsense. Glass’ implication, that the way interpreters think and behave while working automatically conditions the way we think and behave while not working, simply isn’t true. (I’ve always thought that if there is a problem, it’s just the opposite: that everyone I interpret ends up sounding more or less like me.) One of the best things about interpreting is that once a meeting’s over, it’s over- we don’t take our work home with us. Clearly the AIDS business is an exceptional case, but Glass suggests that these kinds of problems permeate Dominique’s whole life. As she sits on a plane, listening to an announcement by the pilot, she informs us, with that smugness that made this reader loathe her beyond description after about ten pages, “As he spoke in my head I could not help but translate his words simultaneously into French.” The intellectual heart of the book, then, Dominique’s need to find her own voice, is utterly phoney: she should never have lost it in the first place. (Colgan 2008, emphasis mine) He knows that Suzanne Glass used to be an interpreter, but this only seems to add fuel to his fire. But, of course, failure as literature as it may be, The Interpreter has another claim on our attention. Suzanne Glass, the potted biography at the front of the book informs us, “became a simultaneous interpreter . . . and speaks several languages.” Does she manage to capture what it’s like to work in a booth? [. . .] Well, no, she doesn’t. So vague is the book that it never even becomes clear whether Dominique is primarily a bilingual, two-way interpreter or whether she has one A

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language and several B or C languages, like most of us in the European Parliament. On the one hand, we never meet (or even hear about) anyone working in the same meeting as Dominique, but in another booth. On the other, although she’s hired on page 71 to “translate from French, Italian and German,” on page 92, in the same meeting, she’s sitting next to a colleague who is working from English into French, so perhaps Glass doesn’t know either. (Colgan 2008) Sparing no word of disgust, Colgan (2008) sums up: So how can I summarise my feelings about this pompous, badly-written, silly and irritating book? Well, it’s difficult, but I think the modern English word bollocks does it best.

3.

Preliminary Conclusions

The multilayered voices “heard” in the earlier discussion are those of real-life interpreters vis-à-vis authors (and their fictional interpreters). They were painstakingly collected from different Internet sources, too different in fact to supply a sound enough basis or enough data for conclusive remarks. The sites investigated vary from official interpreters’ sites to prestigious book review sites in magazines, book clubs, discussion groups or random blogs posted after the publication of the novels. There are obviously countless more in different languages. Yet there are a number of important points that emerge from this chorus of voices, and, based on my previous research on fictional translators, they may lead to preliminary conclusions. What stands out is the discrepancy between the interpreters’ initial satisfaction at being a center of (literary) attention and their critical view of their fictional representation. Professional interpreters are of course aware that the fictional interpreter is used as “a hook to hang the story on” (Smith 2007), but they seem to resent his/her literary image. The degree of resentment may depend on the hierarchies involved: the status of the books/author reviewed, as in the case of the scholarly collection of essays; the academic status of author/critic, as in Sabiha Al Khemir’s critique; and the site where the review/critique/blog is posted, as on government or private sites, or on the AIIC site as opposed to less prestigious blogs. This leads us to the second apparent discrepancy, namely that contrary to the recurrent theme in popular novels, the would-be translator would-be author does not seem to echo in the ‘real’ interpreters’ words. My theory of ‘inferiority feelings’ on the part of fictional interpreters does not reverberate online. In my previous discussions of fictional interpreters (Ben-Ari 2010, 2014), I wondered whether the author had selected a translator/interpreter as protagonist for his very weakness: a parrot, a voiceless bloodless

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spineless figure, a hybrid without roots or identity, a shadow, a ghost—all the metaphors traditionally associated with the profession. True, this protagonist would be in the throngs of a moral/ethical dilemma, but so would protagonists of other professions. Was his very voicelessness the feature that the author needed? His hybridity in the postcolonial context? I am now even more convinced that there is something in the inborn hybridity of the protagonists, that new third diaspora, that real or imagined (self-inflicted) exile, that inspires and triggers the imagination. To use “the Meek and the Mighty” metaphor suggested by Bassnett (1996: 10–24), if previously, translators/interpreters were presented as having enormous though hidden power, dominating, astride two continents, ruling the world with their mastery of languages and cultures, their literary presentation from the late twentieth and on to the twenty-first century shows weak tortured hybrid individuals, torn between conflicting loyalties and mixed shattered identities. This may explain their “femininity”, a metaphor (still!) for weakness and unfaithfulness. This may explain the emphasis on their “voicelessness”, which is of course part of the trade, but it is a part they seem to be struggling against. This may, of course, explain the real-life interpreters’ somewhat belligerent reaction to the meek ones. To pursue this line of thought, the second point to reflect upon is the contrast between the low-key volume of the interpreters’ voices in fiction and their self-assured almost bragging tone in literary reviews and posts (“everyone I interpret ends up sounding more or less like me!”, Colgan 2008). As opposed to the cliché in novels, no interpreter expressed a wish to become a translator. On the contrary, interpreters emphasized the immense difference between the two professions. The few who referred to translation expressed a distinct dislike for it. Says Sarah T in the blog about Bel Canto, “I have worked as an interpreter, but hate being a translator—even though I’ll do it reluctantly.” Especially when organized in a prestigious worldwide organization such as AIIC, interpreters express professional pride and suave assurance. They seem to look down upon the lesser paid “disheveled translator”. On the other hand—if the portrayal of an interpreter as weak seems to be problematic—why heap so much cynical criticism on the one that claims to be excellent at her job, such as Suzanne Glass’s Dominique? Does the fact that Glass worked as an interpreter in the EU for years make her more vulnerable? Why? When do fictional interpreters get positive reviews? The professional voices are less venomous when the plot offers little information about working in the booth (or out). They prefer novels where the portrayal of the interpreter is positive—and active. In a love story such as Patchett’s Bel Canto, the Japanese interpreter Gen Watanabe gains much sympathy from the (female) voices in the blogs (“I enjoyed it when he finally began to break the rules a bit and take something for himself. He really deserved—and needed—love”). His being “a genius at languages” is neglected, if it does not evoke irony. Patchett is one of the novelists who

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did not have any (acknowledged) prior experience in translation/interpreting, and instead of backfiring, this trait seems to make her more appealing, or less threatening, to the professionals on the blog. Lack of professional experience on the part of the author, however, does not spare Vargas Llosa from attacks on the ‘disrespect’ he shows international conference interpreters. Moreover, surprisingly (or not) protagonists get good reviews when they violate the rules of ‘neutrality, objectivity, confidentiality’. So does Gen (Patchett’s protagonist), or Suzy Park (Kim’s protagonist), who gain points by breaking the sacred vow of confidentiality (not so Zohara, who remains voiceless/loyal to her employers). However, isn’t the necessity of trust the core of interpreting? One cannot help thinking of Javier Marías’ hilarious—and totally unlikely—interpreting job, breaking all the rules, in the conversation between the British Iron Lady and the Spanish politician in A Heart So White. The praising voices are not consistent though. Park—or rather author Suki Kim, is complemented for presenting the non-glamorous reality of drab, anonymous courtroom interpreting. Le Carré, on the other hand, is applauded, no, thanked for evoking the Bond-esque quality of the job (“So thank you, John le Carré, for providing us with a character whose quirky chic”; Cumming 2012). And Cumming continues, as quoted earlier, We can never say so, of course, and just like the spy who can never tell anyone about the countless times he’s saved the world from impending disaster, the interpreter must never let on to the rest of the people in the room just how important he really is!

Notes 1. Motto quoted from the main page of the AIIC site. This essay is dedicated to my friend and colleague Miriam Shlesinger, “a rare commodity”, who is greatly missed. 2. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_language_interpreters_in_fiction (last accessed 25 January 2016). 3. AIIC is a professional body established in 1953, organizing conference interpreters worldwide. The site advertises as follows: “AIIC is the only global association of conference interpreters. Since the very early days of modern conference interpreting, AIIC has promoted high standards of quality and ethics in the profession and represented the interests of its practitioners”. 4. I am aware of the fact that this method could seem unsystematic, and indeed, it is an experimental attempt on my part. I should, therefore, emphasize the nonscientific, inconclusive, rather impressionistic nature of my attempt. 5. “Pedants, traducers or bridge builders: Interpreters and translators as literary creations” (AIIC site’s translation). 6. Dr. Mohamed-Salah Omri, a translator of poetry, from the department of Comparative Criticism and Translation at Oxford, read Al Khemir’s novel in manuscript when it was still forthcoming.

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7. The marketing and branding program of the American Booksellers Association, in which independent bookstores across North America participate in order to better compete with the large book chains.

References Al Khemir, Sabiha (2008) The Blue Manuscript. New York: Verso. Bassnett, Susan (1996) The meek and the mighty: Reappraising the role of the translator. In R. Alvarez and C.-A. Vidal (eds.) Translation, Power, Subversion. Clevendon: Multilingual Matters, 10–24. Ben-Ari, Nitsa (2010) Representations of translation in popular culture. TIS, Translation and Interpreting Studies 5(2): 220–242. Ben-Ari, Nitsa (2014) Reaching a dead-end—and then? Jacques Gelat’s Le Traducteur and Le Traducteur amoureuex. In K. Kaindl and K. Spitzl (eds.) Transfiction, Research Into the Realities of Translation Fiction. Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 113–126. Glass, Suzanne (2003 [1999]) The Interpreter. New York: Ballantine Books. Hasak-Lowy, Todd (2005) The Task of the Translator. Orlando: Harcourt. Jones, Sadie (2010) Small Wars. London: Vintage. Kaplan, Alice (2005) The Interpreter. New York: Free Press. Kim, Suki (2003) The Interpreter. New York: Straus and Giroux. Kurz, Ingrid and Kaindl, Klaus (eds.) (2005) Wortklauber, Sinnverdreher, Brückenbauer Dolmetscher Innen und ÜbersetzerInnen als literarische Geschöpfe [Pedants, traducers or bridge builders: Interpreters and translators as literary creations]. Im Spiegel der Literatur Band 1. Vienna: LIT Verlag. Le Carré, John (2006) The Mission Song. New York: Little Brown and Company. Omri, Mohamed-Salah (2006) Voicing a culture “dispersed by time”: Metropolitan location and identity in the literature and art of Sabiha Al Khemir. In Z. Salhi and I. Netton (eds.) The Arab Diaspora: Voices of an Anguished Scream. London: Routledge, 53–75. Patchett, Ann (2005 [2001]) Bel Canto. New York: Harper Perennial. Safran Foer, Jonathan (2003) Everything Is Illuminated. New York: Harper Perennial. Vargas Llosa, Mario (2006) Travesuras de la Niña Mala. Lima: Alfaguara.

Online Reviews and Blogs Colgan, Kenneth (2008) Book Review: The Interpreter. http://aiic.net/page/2894/ book-review-the-interpreter/lang/1 (accessed 6 December 2016). Cumming, Neil (2012) www.andouttheother.com/2012/08/read-this-mission-songby-john-le-carre.html (accessed 25 January 2016). Emma (2001) Bel Canto by Ann Patchett. http://whatwouldemmaread.blogspot. co.il/2011/01/bel-canto-by-ann-patchett.html (accessed 6 December 2016). Erika (2013) Small Wars by Sadie Jones. www.goodreads.com/book/show/6476775small-wars (accessed 6 December 2016). Glass, Suzanne (2001) Interview. www.indiebound.org/author-interviews/glasssuzanne (accessed 25 January 2016). Glass, Suzanne (2006) Interview. www.broadway.com/buzz/6209/suzanne-glassthe-hatmakers-granddaughter (accessed 25 January 2016). Gree, Danielle (2008) Interpreter: An Innocuous Profession? http://aiic.net/page/ 3045 (accessed 6 December 2016).

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Harrison, Kathryn (2007) Dangerous Obsession. www.nytimes.com/2007/10/14/ books/review/Harrison.html?_r=0 (accessed 25 January 2016). Hughes, Brendan (2008) Words Without Borders. http://wordswithoutborders.org/ book-review/mario-vargas-llosas-the-bad-girl (accessed 25 January 2016). Jordan, Justine (2009) Small Wars by Sadie Jones. www.theguardian.com/books/2009/ sep/26/sadie-jones-small-wars-review (accessed 6 December 2016). Kelly, Nataly (2007) Alice Kaplan—The Interpreter. From Our Lips to Your Ears: How Interpreters Are Changing the World. http://fromourlips.blogspot.co.il/2007/ 07/alice-kaplan-interpreter.html (accessed 25 January 2016). Luccarelli, Luigi (2007) Language in the News. http://aiic.net/p/2695 (accessed 6 December 2016). Mendelsohn, Daniel (2001) Ransome Notes. http://nymag.com/nymetro/arts/books/ reviews/4804/ (accessed 9 December 2016). Moyer, Steve (2008) Found in Translation. www.neh.gov/humanities/2008/ julyaugust/feature/found-in-translation (accessed 9 December 2016). Riglet, Marc (2007) Le sang noir coule plus vite. www.lexpress.fr/culture/livre/linterprete-dans-les-traces-d-une-cour-martiale-americaine_812195.html (accessed 6 December 2016). Rustin, Susanna (2011) A Life in Writing: Ann Patchett. www.theguardian.com/ culture/2011/jun/10/ann-patchett-life-writing-interview (accessed 6 December 2016). Sarah, T. (2002) http://seniorlearn.org/bookclubs/archives/fiction/BelCanto.htm (accessed 6 December 2016). Smith, Philip H. D. (2007) Book Review: Interpreters and Translators as Literary Creations. http://aiic.net/p/2837 (accessed 6 December 2016). Weisman, Eva (2009, August 23) Even when we do talk, we often lie. The Guardian. www.theguardian.com/books/2009/aug/23/jones-soldier-small-wars (accessed 25 January 2016). Yoon, Cindy (2011) Interview With Suki Kim, Author of The Interpreter. http:// asiasociety.org/arts/literature/suki-kim-and-interpreter (accessed 25 January 2016).

2

Interpreting as a Postmodern Profession A Socio-Historical Approach Paola Gentile

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world W. B. Yeats (1919)

1.

Introduction

These verses, extracted from The Second Coming by W. B. Yeats, are often used by sociologists to indicate the sense of bewilderment and fragmentation which permeate the postmodern era. Indeed, sociologist David Harvey (1989: 11) refers to the poem to specify that modern life is “soffused with the sense of the fleeting, the ephemeral, the fragmentary and the contingent” and that the postmodern world is the apotheosis of the absence of coherence and unity. More than just a technological and economic change of society, postmodernity is a transformation of the experience of social and cultural life, described by Habermas as a new way to conceive the human experience in which “the new value is placed on the transitory, the elusive and the ephemeral, the very celebration of dynamism, disclosed a longing for an undefiled, immaculate and stable present” (Taylor and Winquist 1998: 148). The postmodern era has been buttressed by the phenomenon of globalisation, which appears to have largely pervaded all aspects concerning political, economic and popular thought. As Paluski (2009: 260) states, contemporary society is characterised by a “global division of labor, intense consumption (especially of images), a proliferation of the mass media, and an increasing saturation of society with information technology”. These social changes have encouraged a new reorganisation of the labour market, creating the need for new professional figures: conference interpreting is a profession born in this new world order. In his theorisation on the influence that contemporary society has on self-identity, Anthony Giddens (1991: 2) argues that the world we live in “radically alters the nature of day-to-day social life and affects the most personal aspects of our experience”. There is therefore a connection

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between what happens in the world and how individuals perceive their experiences, which leads to the assumption that the interpreter’s professional self and status cannot be analysed without taking into consideration the broader picture of the consequences of globalisation and postmodernity. Furthermore, according to Pöchhacker (2011: 322), interpreting is a very interesting topic from a sociological perspective, also because “the reasons and implications of its changing internal makeup in terms of age, sex, and the swathe from the consecutive to the simultaneous mode have yet to be thoroughly studied”. In light of these assumptions, this chapter aims to investigate the historical and sociological developments of conference interpreting against the background of the postmodern and globalised era. The period characterised by the “time-space compression” (Harvey 1989: 222) and by impressive technological progress led to the development of the conference interpreters’ unclear sense of identity, while the mass media contributed to change the public image of the profession forever. Therefore, conference interpreting could be defined as a postmodern profession, which originated to serve the communication needs of twentieth century society. The link between the interpreting profession and the sociological theories of Postmodernity—already used by Koskinen (2009) in her analysis of the translator’s ethics–will be illustrated here with a special focus on the evolution of the interpreter’s sociological profile, the spatial-temporal dimension in which interpreting originated and has progressed over the years and the role played by technological developments (such as the spread of the mass media1) in shaping the popular representations of the profession. For reasons of space, this method of analysis will be employed only for the evolution of conference interpreting.

2.

Postmodern Perspectives in the Intepreting Profession

One of the first elements that helps explain the connection between Postmodernity and conference interpreting could be found in the preface to Baigorri-Jalón’s book entitled From Paris to Nuremberg. The Birth of Conference Interpreting (2014). John Delisle’s opening words (2014: i), “globalization, a defining phenomenon of the twentieth century, is characterized by shrinking time and space and vanishing borders” interestingly refer neither to the interpreting profession nor to interpreters, but to a sociological phenomenon brought about by the sweeping changes taking place during mankind’s “shortest century”(Hobsbawm 1994). With this concise statement, Delisle highlights two fundamental questions. The first is that the twentieth century witnessed the birth of conference interpreting conceived as a profession, and the second is that the passage of interpretation from an activity that any bilingual could perform to a highly specialised profession took place against the backdrop of a changing historical and sociological

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landscape. With these premises he invites the adoption of a more comprehensive approach to an occupation that, more than others, has been susceptible to the vagaries of the globalised world. The main features which demonstrate the inextricable bond between interpreting and postmodernity are as follows: •

•

•

•

The profession is detached from a specific anthropological space (Augé 1995), which results in a lack of sense of place caused by the rise of new technologies, prompting a continuous construction of spaces and social relations (Turner and Davenport 2006). Conference interpreting has been changed by technology. The advent of the simultaneous mode, together with the more recent developments brought about by telephone, remote and videoconference interpreting have been fundamental in shaping the profession as it is known today. The mass media have contributed to the creation of the myth of conference interpreting. The sense of amazement with respect to the activities performed by interpreters—such as simultaneous interpreting—was mostly created by the press, especially at a time when knowledge of more than two languages was considered rather unusual. This aspect is described by Gaiba (1998: 60), who writes, “Its profound impact on both journalists of the time and, later, historians is shown by the following quotation: it was a wonder”. Hence the role played by the media has been particularly significant in the enhancement of the popular representations of the profession. A blurred sense of professional identity. Throughout history, the interpreters’ status has always been susceptible to several factors: their social and cultural background, the type of education they received, the interpretation mode (consecutive or simultaneous) and the social prestige enjoyed by the speaker for whom they interpreted, which result in the negotiation of the interpreter’s identity, ethics and role concerns. (Rudvin 2006, 2015)

In the light of these notions, it could be assumed that the consequences of globalisation have caused irreversible changes in the way the profession is perceived by others and by interpreters themselves. As already asserted by Giddens (1991),2 there is a connection between what happens in the world and how individuals perceive their experiences, which leads to the assumption that the interpreter’s socio-historical evolution of sociological status and role (Zwischenberger 2011) cannot be analysed without taking into consideration the broader picture of the consequences of globalisation and postmodernity. The evolution of conference interpreting is a complex phenomenon which has been scrutinised so far almost exclusively from an historical approach. The analyses carried out by Bowen (1988), Gaiba (1998), Roland (1999), Baigorri-Jalón (2004, 2014), Delisle and Woodsworth (2012) were

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fundamental to determine momentous events in the history of conference interpreting: from the “battle of the languages” (Baigorri-Jalón 2014: 20) to the struggle between consecutive and simultaneous interpreting at the UN, from the first experiments with simultaneous interpreting (Baigorri-Jalón 2014) to the Nuremberg Trials, when simultaneous interpreting reached the height of its fame, from the UN interpreters’ 1974 “strike” for better working conditions (Baigorri-Jalón 2014: 113)3 to the dawn of remote interpreting. All these events did not occur without consequences on the sociological developments of the profession, whose legacy is still visible today. The “battle of the languages” (Baigorri-Jalón 2014: 69) ushered in an era in which English began to be used as a lingua franca, the struggle between consecutive and simultaneous interpreting represented the watershed from the mythical perception of interpreting as a “marvel” to a more ordinary and unexceptional “profession” and the 1974 “strike” (Baigorri-Jalón 2014: 87) showed the world that simultaneous interpreters were “human beings like everybody else, however ‘uncanny’ they were considered to be” (Baigorri-Jalón 2014: 171). Despite their relevance to the evolution of the profession, these historical changes have rarely been investigated in a sociological perspective—a method which would prove fruitful to determine the extent to which historical events have contributed to changing the face of the profession forever. Just like the twentieth century, the interpreting profession has evolved in many unforeseeable ways and is destined to change further in the future.

3.

Interpreting and the Spaces of Globalisation

With the advent of postmodernity, the reorganisation of space was reasserted: space was no longer a univocal concept, but it became limitless and devoid of historical memory. The time-space compression characterising the postmodern era generated individuals who had lost their sense of place and were spatially disoriented, which is why postmodern theoreticians have always paid great attention to the peculiarities distinguishing ‘space’ and ‘place’. The first theorisations of the difference between spaces and places as they are apprehended by contemporary subjects are put forth by Marc Augé (1995) who argues that postmodernity (or supermodernity, as he defines it) creates ‘non-places’, which “cannot be defined as relational, or historical, or concerned with identity” (Augé 1995: 77). As places are bound to people’s experiences and are “directly experienced phenomena of the real world” (Convery 2014: 1) non-places are the exact opposite, in that they are characterised by a “projection forward, in the individual’s relationship with this moving on, in a mobility which suppresses the differences in which anthropological spaces are established” (Kaye 2013: 9). The international fora in which conference interpreting developed could be defined as places of globalisation, devoid of historical memory and collective identity. They were created to satisfy the need for establishing

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multilateral dialogue and creating ad hoc meeting places in which crucial political decisions were (and still are) made, but they are not real anthropological spaces, which are “irreducible to physicality and encompass human activity as constituent of the identity of the space itself” (Turner and Davenport 2006: 222) and are meaningful for the people who live in it. As Iriye (2002: 8) points out, transnational networks “are based upon a global consciousness, the idea that there is a wider world over and above separate states and national societies” which explains that international organizations physically represent a new social awareness brought about by globalisation. Although they are physical places, international organisations cannot be defined as real anthropological spaces, because they represent the identities of nation-states without embodying them. Unsurprisingly, the headquarters of the United Nations is situated in international territory, which officially does not belong to the United States. The area, like many other international political fora, is one of the many spaces of globalisation, where the modern concept of global governance is represented and characterised by a “shift from markets and hierarchies towards networks and partnerships and modes of coordination” (Kennett 2008: 6), where decisions are made by global actors and have far-reaching scope. This is the place in which the first interpreters worked, the place in which the profession as it is known today was shaped by crucial events that determined the evolution of conference interpreting. Much attention has to be paid to this aspect because, as Thompson (2006) argues, the relationship between place and professional development is co-construed: lawyers construct their sense of identity in courtrooms, doctors in hospitals and teachers in schools, all places that have a specific and immediate social function; they have always existed and possess their own hierarchies and rules. On the contrary, interpreters do not have a sense of place because the profession as such was born in a non-anthropological place, and, consequently, the interpreting activity has never been peformed in (or associated with) a structured social place. From hospitals to courtrooms, from refugee camps to the UN Security Council, the professional identity of interpreters was never gradually built, but just happened to exist, just like the accidents of time and main historical events. To paraphrase Gadamer (2013: 289), the interpreter’s self was only “a flickering in the closed circuit of historical life”: owing to the evanescent and wavering nature of their profession, intepreters still have to build a long-lasting shared narrative with a common purpose. The absence of a specific place for interpreters to be associated with has greatly contributed to the fragmentation of the occupational self. As Schopohl (2008: 3) argues, interpreters embody the postmodern, flexible individual, which, on the one hand is characterised by a maximum of spatial, social and physical mobility but, on the other, suffers from an enormous pressure to perform and

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from being threatened by a loss of security, personal relationships and anything to hold on to. While leaving a more detailed discussion on interpreters’ self-perception of status and role to a later stage (cf. Zwischenberger, Chapter 3), the interpreters’ detachment from a specific spatial location may very well be one of the reasons why the profession is still struggling to define its identity (Rudvin 2015).

4.

The Representation of Interpreting in the Mass Media

There is widespread agreement among postmodern theorists (Evans 2007) that the mass media have a prominent role in shaping values and beliefs because they transform real events into symbols. The mass media are agents of globalisation and, as such, wield a great deal of power in creating (and, sometimes, distorting) the individual’s perception of reality. As Massoni (2012: 17) points out, Contemporary Western citizens are surrounded by media, immersed in media, dependent on media . . . we have become, quite literally, a media culture [. . .]. Media, with their images of utopian lifestyles and bodily perfection, are a key site for the construction of identity in contemporary Western society. The media create narratives which attempt to make sense of the world, and they create a new semiological system of myths that—far from interpreting reality as such—are fostered, among other things, by sensational contents. The myths created by the media are often positive in their nature, and their storytelling technique generates ‘ordinary’ heroes, whose moral qualities are exalted and constitute a part of the metanarratives of our time. The media do not produce these popular representations only in the wake of extraordinary events: being an omnipresent element of society’s ordinary lives, they manage to mythicise other figures constituting an element of collective experience. Even though a distinction has to be made between the image presented by the entertainment industry and that of the press, the mass media have often portrayed a romanticised view of some professions, including conference interpreting. Despite having been rarely investigated in Interpreting Studies, the study of media portrayals has yielded interesting findings in sociological studies conducted on other professions (such as physicians, lawyers and justice personnel, teachers). The studies (Gordon 2006; Lupton 2012) revealed that the mass media are a crucial generator of public perception which heighten the positive features of a profession, thus enhancing its social prestige. One example of these sensational portrayals could be the heroism associated with the medical profession.

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According to sociologist Thompson (2014: 827), from the 1950s onwards doctors have been overrepresented in the media: “Before 1980, the proportion of doctors on television was five times greater than the proportion of doctors in the United States”. In the extensive narrative built up by the media (and especially by the entertainment industry), doctors are often seen as bridges linking ordinary people to science and having access to medicine—a major instrument of power—a sociological aspect which explains why their status and prestige are greatly upheld by media representations. The lasting impact of TV dramas have created the myth of the doctor-hero: The physician was not to be seen simply as an educated individual who had learned a valuable trade. Instead, he was to be seen as a member of a modern elect: a contemporary knight whose painful movement through the lists of training had shown that he had the heroic stature necessary to link a compassionate nature to the wonders of healing technology. (Seale 2003: 29) Another study on the public perception of physicians revealed that: Doctors as characters in television dramas have tended to dominate over other professional occupations, and to be shown as more successful, peaceable and fair-minded than most other characters [. . .]. So too in the news media, doctors are routinely present as superman figures, the secular equivalent of clergy, and medicine is portrayed as the avenue by which miracles may be wrought. (Lupton 2012: 55) Although the representation of doctors does not seem to reflect reality, sociological research has shown that “the public appears to be increasing its dependence on television news for information about health-related issues” (Chory-Assad and Taborini 2003) and that “heavy viewers of television were likely to report having high confidence and trust in their doctors” (Thompson 2014: 827). These are just a few examples which further underline that the mass media play a fundamental role in shaping the general public’s view of a profession. As far as conference interpreting is concerned, a great deal of attention from the media has been paid to ‘magical tricks’ performed by interpreters. After World War I, and during the golden age of consecutive interpretation, interpreters were considered a fundamental part of the diplomatic networks of the time, and the fact that “they were often lauded as ‘phenomena’ in the press and public opinion of the day” (Baigorri-Jalón 2014: 130) further demonstrates how the most powerful mass media of the time—the press—enhanced their image of extraordinary individuals. The

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most momentous occasion on which conference interpreting was presented to the world through the media was the Nuremberg Trials: The heavy media coverage, which was comparable, mutatis mutandis, to CNN’s coverage of the O. J. Simpson trial, also provided excellent publicity for the profession. Radio broadcasts and newsreels featured [. . .] the voices of the corresponding interpreters, and the press reported on the interpreters’ prowess. This publicity was undoubtedly an important incentive for future interpreter candidates and for the establishment of new schools. (Baigorri-Jalón 2014: 245) The considerable impact achieved by such an intense media exposure was that many young people were more motivated to attend interpreting schools, because they saw that the technique could be learnt by anyone who mastered foreign languages and had the ambition to become an interpreter. As Gaiba also underlines, “the media were impressed by its results and did not know about its shortcomings. Interpreters knew they were getting good results despite its shortcomings” (1998: 112, original emphasis). This comment offers insight into the double perception which has always existed between the ‘internal’ world of interpreters and the ‘external’ world of people outside the profession. The former knew that the new simultaneous interpreting system was a turning point in the history of the profession, although they were aware that it was still too flawed and that interpreters needed a longer training period. The media were captivated by the fact that a historic event such as the trial of the Nazi criminals was taking place thanks to a prodigious mechanism which rendered the unfolding of the proceedings possible, and glorified the most sensational aspect of the occurrence, thus creating the myth of the interpreter-hero. As Baigorri-Jalón (2004: 80) underlines, “natural talents—or, at most, talents acquired when they were growing up—was what allowed these brilliant individuals to carry out the ‘feat’ of interpreting. This feat reaches epic proportions if it is carried out in the UN [. . .]”. Gaiba (1998: 112) also stresses how the media created a heroic picture of the interpreter: “Many journalists and authors present at the sessions commented on the high quality and the extraordinary proficiency of interpreters. They considered it ‘a miracle like Pentecost’”. Paraphrasing the words by Roland Barthes (in Pietrzak 2011: 25): “Everything can be a myth provided that it is conveyed by a discourse”. Diriker (2004: 42) argues that two different media discourses revolve around the notion of the ideal interpreter. The first discourse mentioned by Diriker is promoted by interpreters themselves, who tend to emphasise that their role is to convey ‘ideas’ and not mere ‘words’, whereas the second shows that the media stress that interpreters have an extraordinary ability to convey ‘words’. In the light of the latter, Diriker (2004) maintains

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that the great attention paid by the media to the individual word leads to an increased emphasis on the mistakes interpreters make: “Looking at the discourse on SI [simultaneous interpreting] in the Turkish printed and electronic media from 1988 until today [. . .], SI seems to hit the news in Turkey for three main reasons: big events, big money and big mistakes”. Apart from ‘big events’, which is regarded as the main discourse generator for events such as world summits, bilateral meetings of world leaders, state visits, international conflicts and natural disasters, the second most common occasion on which conference interpreters are mentioned is the considerable amount of money they supposedly earn. This aspect was already underlined by Jean Herbert in the 1970s when he spoke about conference interpreting as a freelance profession: “It is an interesting and well-paid job, you travel a lot and you have periods when you are completely free” (quoted in Thorgevsky 1992: 25), and is being still highly reinforced today in blogs and the social media: “Top-rank UN interpreters can earn up to $210,000” (Krastev 2010). The image of interpreters has also been enhanced by literature (Kurz 1987) and movies (Cronin 2009; Apostolou 2009). For example, Kurz (1987) describes how the legendary description of the interpreter is also present in literary works: she argues that the book by Doris Lessing The Summer Before the Dark provides “a rather vague and inaccurate picture of what interpretation is all about” (1987: 315). She argues that Lessing—just like other literary authors who describe interpreters as novel characters—seems generally unaware of the fact that interpreters have learnt the tricks of the trade through hard work and sacrifices. The myths fostered by Lessing that Kurz attempts to debunk are (1) you have spent one year abroad, you are bound to be a perfect conference interpreter and (2) interpreters are like machines, they translate ‘automatically’. In their study of conference interpreters’ self-perception of their status, Dam and Zethsen (2013: 230) started from the assumption that the general image of conference interpreting is that of a “much-admired feat commanding high social esteem—and substantial fees”. Both Kurz and Dam and Zethsen hypothesise that these myths, which have been fostered by the mass media over the years, are still likely to be deeply rooted in public perception today, which shows that the media have had a great impact on the way society perceives the profession and on how conference interpreters see themselves.

5.

The Sociological Developments of Conference Interpreting

In the lore of the literature on postmodernity, one of the most recurrent words is fragmentation, embedded in the economic, technological and social developments of the twentieth century. As previously pointed out, mass culture has witnessed a process of fragmentation and oversimplification of aesthetic phenomena, with a proliferation of symbols and a growing

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mythicisation of events or individuals, as in the case of the glamour attributed to conference interpreting. Together with cultural and social incongruities, the individual identity has undergone a process of “discontinuity of experience” (Dunn 1998); the postmodern individual is surrounded by power forces and contrasting signals, which is why (s)he cannot develop a single and clear-cut identity. The dynamic and unstable subject who lives in contemporary society is described by sociologist Grossberg as an individual who lacks a sense of self-awareness: This “post-humanistic” subject does not exist with a unified identity (even understood as an articulated hierarchical structure of its various subject-positionings) that somehow manifests itself in every practice. Rather, it is a subject that is constantly remade, reshaped as a mobilely situated set of relations in a fluid context The nomadic subject is amoeba-like, struggling to win some space for itself in its local situation. The subject itself has become a site of struggle, an ongoing site of articulation with its own history, determinations and effects. (Chen, Morley and Morley 2006: 116) Similarly, the process of identity negotiation is intrinsic to the very nature of being an interpreter: the expressions often associated with interpreting activity, such as ‘in-between person’ or ‘man in the middle’(Pöchhacker and Shlesinger 2007) perfectly describe the interpreter’s sense of non-belonging. The awareness of fragmented identity is a typical trait of the postmodern, contemporary world, in which the boundaries between peoples are becoming increasingly blurred and the “intercultural spaces occupied by translators and interpreters are ideological voids” (Inghilleri 2004: 5). This unclear sense of identity is the common thread which characterised the evolution of conference interpreters’ sociological profile. In his trail-blazing book on the growth of conference interpreting, Jean Herbert (1978: 5) writes that “conference interpretation only actually started during the First World War”, which was a real “training school” for the first interpreters. Even though the 1890 Pan-American Conference can be considered one of the first, multilingual conferences (Baigorri-Jalón 2015a: 18), the Paris Peace Conference in 1919, where the stakes for a new world order were significantly higher, is regarded by many interpreting scholars as the cradle of a profession re-born with a new guise: conference interpreting. The interpreters who played a leading role in the conference (Mantoux, Camerlynk and, above all, Jean Herbert) have roughly the same sociological and educational profile: “Knowledge of languages, solid academic backgrounds and the cosmopolitanism acquired from traveling and living abroad” (Baigorri-Jalón 2014: 54). Many a successful interpreter of that period had a doctorate and had learnt foreign languages either in academic institutions or in their family or during journeys abroad. They were mainly intellectuals and academics who had written several books, a skill which,

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according to Jean Herbert, made them such extraordinary interpreters. As Baigorri-Jalón reports, interpreters seemed more like buffers rather than conduits enabling communication, because their role went beyond that of mere language transfers; they had direct contact with the delegates; they contributed to the preparation of speeches, made suggestions and corrections. Baigorri-Jalón (2014: 121) further adds: To the visibility we must add continuity, since the staff interpreters spent years on the job, whereas the delegates came and went. It is no surprise, then, that the diplomats and dignitaries knew the interpreters personally; to a certain extent, the interpreters were diplomats manqués [. . .] They worked so closely together that they were likely to form friendships and enmities, affinities and phobias. At the dawn of the twentieth century, the sociological profile of conference intepreters was clearly outlined: they were highly educated, upper-class, quasi diplomats—which is why they felt perfectly at ease with the protocol of the diplomatic environment, and since they were not trained as interpreters, they were thought to possess genius, a talent for languages: It is no surprise that interpreters considered themselves an important and prominent part of the international parliamentaty network of the time, added to the fact that they were often lauded as ‘phenomena’ in the press and public opinion of their day. Because none of them had trained specifically for this job, it was concluded that their ability came from innate gifts and that their work was more art than profession. (Baigorri-Jalón 2014: 130) It is, therefore, undeniable that interpreters were held in high esteem, and that they often had the same status as diplomats. Their elitarian background, innate abilities, moral qualities and status of prima donnas contributed to the creation of the myth of interpreting, first enhanced by the delegates who participated in the meetings at the international organisations and subsequently enhanced by the press. Just as myth is created to make sense of a senseless world and to understand experience in a narrative way, the myth of the infallible interpreter, the right arm of the decision makers of that time was created to give sense to an extraordinary and unexplicable condition: ordinary people were not able to understand the cognitive mechanisms allowing interpreters to deliver a perfect translation. As Paul-Boncour writes, What a marvel to see them work: the English or French translation, depending on whether French or English was spoken, immediately followed each statement; it was so intelligently and precisely rendered that it even replicated the turns of phrase and the nuance of every intonation. (1945: 156, in Baigorri-Jalón 2014: 121)

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The sense of amazement to which their performances gave rise—which the interpreters did nothing to tone down—was kindled by the lack of knowledge which has always characterised (and still characterises) those who are outside the profession, as well as interpreters themselves not knowing how they managed to perform such tasks. The common denominator of all the first great interpreters was a sense of contingency (Powell and Owen 2007), whose highest manifestation was that interpreters were “thrown” into the profession, a verb used by Heidegger, Stambaugh and Schmidt (2010) to describe the finitude of the individual who is “thrown into the world”. The concept of ‘contingency’ is also referred to as ‘liquidity’ of the postmodern era, characterised by fluidity and drift (Bauman 2003). At an economic level, this contingency shows itself in the large-scale recruitment at the United Nations which took place after the Nuremberg Trials; in the aftermath of the Second World War, more interpreters were needed and they were desperately sought in schools, universities and state departments. Most of them were freelancers—i.e. contingent workers according to the Encyclopaedia of the Sociology of Work (Smith 2013: 305), since they were employed with standard arrangements, a condition which ties in nicely with the concept of work in the postmodern world (Carter 2012). The main job requirements that the future simultaneous interpreters had to fulfill were: 1) a ‘natural’ knowledge of languages, and 2) an innate talent, two aspects which kept fostering the conviction that only few people in the world were able to interpret at all. This notion was detrimental for the profession for two reasons: it gave rise to the idea that interpreters were a finished product of nature and could be found in much the same way as people come across rare birds or fish (that is, phenomena), second by ‘testing’ so many and ‘selecting’ so few, he [the Chief of Division A/N] conveyed the belief that the interpreter is precisely that, a ‘rara avis’. (Baigorri-Jalón 2004: 82–83) For a long time, being able to interpret was associated with spontaneous knowledge of languages, a belief which is perhaps still rooted not only in the public perception of interpreting but also in the convictions of interpreters themselves. The first generation of interpreters were too busy being called ‘geniuses’ and ‘marvels’ to stress the fact that they were trained just like other professionals. As a consequence, current misconceptions concerning interpreting may depend on this major error of appraisal. Despite the rising number of professional associations and the mushrooming of interpreting schools which have taken place over the last century, widespread public ignorance about the profession still remains, linked to the assumption ‘interpreters are born, not made’ and ‘knowledge of two languages is tantamount to being an interpreter’. The hypothesis that these

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misconceptions are no longer fostered by interpreters themselves cannot be rejected a priori. Although most interpreters of the past could not receive academic training because it did not exist in the early stages of the profession—with the exception of the Geneva School—many others were just taken into the profession because of their linguistic competence. Academic training, professional associations, state control and other elements which consolidated the institutionalisation of other full-blown professions (Abbott 2014) were established long after the coming of age of conference interpreting, which is probably why interpreters still believe in the importance of talent over training or in the self-regulation of the profession. In this respect, an analysis of the criteria making interpreting a profession compared with the parameters used to assess other professions might cast light on the reasons why the professionalisation of interpreting is not yet complete. The erroneous notions about interpreting were such that, paradoxically, at the exact moment when interpreting became more professionalised with the birth of the simultaneous mode, conference interpreters entered a professional identity crisis. In that historical period, the gap between public perception and the interpreter’s understanding of the profession began to widen. The first representations of the profession, fostered by the mass media and by the testimonies of the delegates who witnessed the prodigious performances of the first great consecutivists and the interpreters at the Nuremberg Trials, revealed a shallow idea of the interpreting profession and of what the interpreter’s task entailed. The prevalence of image over content and the superficiality with which reality is described (Thomas 2013) are other typical features of the postmodern era, since its culture “is about the spectacle of the images, style over substance, medium over matter (echoing McLuhan), anonymity over first-person narrative, disposability over longevity, present-day over past traditions” (Laughey 2010: 220). Therefore, while the media portrayed the interpreter’s profile in a mythical perspective, interpreters began to feel a sense of unease with the clamour generated by their job. Their daily professional reality was characterised by poor working conditions, which were far from the picture of them popularly imagined: Interpreters were packed like sardines in badly lit and even more badly ventilated booths, where they had to maintain the level of concentration required of a simultaneous interpreter and these physical conditions could only cause even more tension, which became greater as the working hours increased. (Baigorri-Jalón 2004: 114) Although the ‘strike’ and the union action at the UN managed to improve the interpreter’s working conditions (Baigorri-Jalón 2004: 115), the perception of the profession did not change much in the minds of non-experts but, thenceforth, it has never been the same in the interpreters’

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self-representation of their job. This change in perception has to be considered first and foremost from the interpreter’s perspective, which appears to have been influenced by institutional and social constraints (Angelelli 2004). Nevertheless, positive changes have taken place since the strike, which touched both the agreement and non-agreement sectors: if, on the one hand, conference interpreters lost a bit of their glamour and social prestige, on the other they began to follow the path leading them to an increased professionalisation. The image of prima donnas and marvels started to be replaced by one which represented them as highly specialised and technical professionals: at an equal pace with the development of the change of profile, the sociological background of simultaneous interpreters at the UN (and in other international organisations) evolved. From the 1980s onwards, alongside natural polyglots who graduated in subjects other than interpreting and translation and with those who regarded the profession as a way to be employed in other fields, there were people who had studied hard to become interpreters and wanted to be ‘only’ interpreters. Among these were a high number of women, whose increase in number in the profession coincided with the wave of male interpreters who either moved up to administrative jobs or were simply excluded from the profession because they had no training to perform it. A description offered by Baigorri-Jalón (2004: 135–136) of the typical conference interpreter of the 1970s at the UN closely resembles the current sociological profile of interpreters in the twenty-first century: The interpreter is female. She comes from a monolingual middle-class family. She starts learning languages at primary and secondary school. She improves her command of the languages she is studying by spending short periods of time in the countries where the languages are spoken. She has a very good command of her mother tongue and a good command of another two languages [. . .]. She is not a perfect bilingual. She takes a degree course at an interpreting school. She works as a freelance interpreter or translator for a time. She starts to work in the UN after several years of experience when she is just over thirty. She reads newspapers, particularly in her own language and in English and she is up-to date on current affairs. She is fond of reading in several languages [. . .]. Recently, the topic of the feminisation of conference interpreting has been put forward in some publications (Spânu 2009; Bodzer 2014), and there seems to be agreement among interpreting scholars that it has led to lower pay rates and a loss of prestige of the profession, though female interpreters were (and are) considered to be highly skilled and qualified. If the older generations of interpreters were either people who had learnt languages in their family or during the two wars or were stateless people who could naturally switch from one culture to another, the younger generations of interpreters

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dreamed about being interpreters, deliberately decided to study languages and were determined to pursue a career in the interpreting profession. Motivation, dedication and hard work were the characteristics marking these new generations of interpreters, who ‘chose’ to become interpreters not only on the basis of their skills but also of their aspirations. At a sociological level, the most important factor which contributed to the change in conference interpreters’ self-perception of their status is that, in the passage from ‘marvel’ to ‘profession’, their status was no longer ‘ascribed’, but ‘achieved’. According to the Sage Dictionary of Sociology (Bruce and Yearley 2006: 39), status can be both ‘ascribed’ and ‘achieved’; an individual who enjoys ascribed status has made no effort to obtain it, as ascribed status is assigned on the basis of race, sex and date of birth. Conversely, achieved status is reached through choice and achievement and is determined by features such as occupation and level of education (Ferrante 2014: 93). Queen Elizabeth II, for example, enjoys ascribed status, whereas a medical doctor has achieved his status after academic training and personal efforts. This distinction is of the utmost importance as far as the evolution of the interpreting profession is concerned: the first generation of interpreters were granted the ascribed status of interpreters simply because they were bilinguals. From the 1960s onwards, with the spread of interpreting schools, the status of ‘interpreter’ began to be achieved, as the majority of interpreting students were not natural bilinguals (Baigorri-Jalón 2004). What should be investigated further is the motivation which led (and still leads) many young men and women to pursue the interpreting career: why did they want to become interpreters? Are there moral convictions underlying this choice or did they just want to be independent and earn money? Studies on the motivation driving young students to become doctors and lawyers (Lentz and Laband 1995; Zelick 2007) revealed that ‘the desire to help others’ was the main concern of aspiring students of medicine and law. Without ignoring the flurry of unconscious motivations which usually manifest themselves at a later stage, the common denominator is that young people embrace the values of these professions. As Baigorri-Jalón (2004: 81) states, the misconception of the conference interpreter as a genius has considerably limited the development of the other elements making up a profession, fundamental for an occupation to become fully established. Therefore, a rediscovery of the values underpinning the profession would allow conference interpreting to find again its sense of place and identity in a world whose fast developments are going to transform the profession again in the future.

6.

Conclusion

This chapter sought to establish a connection between conference interpreting and the sociological condition of postmodernity by combining historical and sociological perspectives. The evolution of the profession

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was illustrated by drawing on the theories formulated by Giddens (1991), who argued that the question of identity in modern society largely depends on the changes that occur in the external world. Throughout the twentieth century, the main sociological features characterising postmodernity described by sociologist Harvey (1989)—such as the spatial-temporal disconnection, an increasing use of technology and the pervasiveness of the mass media—have profoundly changed the way conference interpreting is seen by others and by practitioners themselves. Some of the features of postmodernity have had an impact on the way the profession has evolved until today and have contributed to the development of the interpreter’s status: the evolution of conference interpreting in a non-anthropological space has led to an ill-defined collective identity of the profession and the advent of simultaneous interpreting—which provoked a spatial dislocation between the interpreter and the rostrum—caused a professional identity crisis, as interpreters went from being regarded as prima donnas to being seen as anonymous voices. Moreover, the myth of interpreting as an extraordinary feat, of interpreters as legendary characters, of interpreting as a ‘miraculous’ profession, which provides the opportunity of working with important personalities, which the first intepreters did nothing to debunk, was created and, above all, fostered by the mass media, the most powerful instrument shaping the public opinion of contemporary society. The advancement of the postmodern era, which took place at a cracking pace and became possible with astounding technological progress, has played a fundamental role in the development of conference interpreters’ self-perception of status and professional identity. With regard to the interpreters’ status, the most important event characterising the shift from interpreters as natural talents to trained professionals was the fact that status was no longer granted on the basis of a bilingualism acquired by mere chance, but on the basis of hard-earned technical knowledge and skills. In the light this, it would be interesting to assess the role played by technology, the media, economic and social events in the construction of interpreters’ identity and self-awareness of status almost one century after the birth of conference interpreting. Although much discussion has been brought to the fore concerning the sociology of translation (Wolf and Fukari 2007), the sociology of the interpreting profession, with a focus on the social, cultural and political forces shaping it, has yet to be written.

Notes 1. As far as conference interpreting is concerned, the influence of the media on its public perception has barely been investigated. The paucity of research in the field suggests that there is an urgent need to scrutinise the way in which the social media represent the profession. As Dam and Zethsen (2013) underline, the professional self is also co-constructed through social networks, as more and more translators and interpreters use blogs as a way to empower the profession.

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2. See also Inghilleri (2004). 3. Many references to the United Nations will be made in this chapter as taken from Baigorri-Jalón’s (2004, 2014) historical description. Nevertheless, the role played by other international organizations and NGOs was perhaps just as important for the development of the profession.

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3

Professional Self-Perception of the Social Role of Conference Interpreters Cornelia Zwischenberger

1.

Introduction

Concepts such as identity, status and role are becoming increasingly important and popular in research on translational professions as a whole (SelaSheffy and Shlesinger 2011). This also holds true for conference interpreting research, which seems to have taken an increasingly social or sociological turn. While the concept of social role has always been prominent in the evolution of community interpreting research, the role-theoretical approach is somewhat new in investigations into conference interpreting. For decades conference interpreting research has shied away from approaching its field of investigation through the lens of the role concept. There may be a number of reasons for this. First, conference interpreting, and in particular, the simultaneous mode, first attracted experimental psychologists, who were primarily interested in the cognitive and psychological processes involved in simultaneous interpreting (Barik 1971; Gerver 1975). Furthermore, their interest lay in measuring both quantitatively and qualitatively the impact of various independent input variables on the interpreter’s output. Second, the very nature of conference interpreting, especially when it is performed in the simultaneous mode, does not lend itself to role-theoretical investigations at first sight. The simultaneous interpreter sits in a soundproof booth, which is isolated from the whole conference. Furthermore, in the simultaneous mode s/he works mostly in a unidirectional way. This gives the appearance that only little role-related interaction is involved. Third, the Théorie du sens developed by Seleskovitch (1968) and the strong reactions it ultimately provoked among Interpreting Studies (IS) scholars may be regarded as a further reason. According to the theory, which was formative for the emergence of IS, the main function of the interpreter consists in conveying the sense inherent to the original. With such a simplification of the interpreting process, sociological investigations become superfluous. The theory is still influential in interpreting pedagogy and practice today. It still informs the conceptualisation of the function of an interpreter as propagated by AIIC or large international institutions such as the EU or the United Nations (Zwischenberger 2015). Interpreting

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research, however, took a clear distance from the theory as it was found to be too subjective. Interpreting research reacted with taking a strong focus on empirical research and modelling and investigating the cognitive aspects of simultaneous interpreting in particular (Gile 1985). This cognitive turn generated a lot of empirical research and has remained formative for conference interpreting research. The scientific shift in IS received its first impetus from the sociological and role-related empirical studies undertaken by Angelelli (2004) and Diriker (2004). The study by Angelelli (2004) was a survey conducted among conference, court and medical interpreters in the United States, Canada and Mexico. She compared the degree of self-perceived (in)visibility among the three groups, where it transpired that conference interpreters perceived themselves to be the least visible group. Diriker (2004) undertook a corpus-based study of an authentic conference event with simultaneous interpreting. Her findings revealed a gap between what interpreters reported that they were doing in their various meta-discourses on interpreting and what they did in practice. These two studies were followed by further role-related investigations by Beaton (2007), Monacelli (2009) and most recently Zwischenberger (2013). So far Beaton’s (2007) study constitutes the only investigation in the field of conference interpreting research which looks at the concept of hegemony1 and investigates it in the context of the European Union. From her corpus analysis, which she based on recordings of simultaneous interpretations from plenaries in the European Parliament, it ensued that conference interpreters were actively involved in propagating the institution’s ideology and hegemonic force via their interpretations. Monacelli (2009) also undertook a corpus analysis and described the face saving strategies employed by professional conference interpreters in their struggle for professional survival. She found empirical proof in her corpus of the strategies used by professionals, such as omissions or mitigation, the use of certain grammar forms, for the sake of professional self-preservation. Zwischenberger (2013) conducted a large-scale web-based survey among the members of the International Association of Conference Interpreters (AIIC) and the German Association of Conference Interpreters (VKD) on the two interrelated concepts of quality and role. It is the first study in the field of IS to approach quality from a role-theoretical perspective. In Zwischenberger’s study (2013), the two concepts of quality and role are mediated by social norms. Social norms constitute an integral part of any role-related expectations and thus of the construct of quality too. Conference interpreting research is thus taking a sociological turn as described by Wolf and Fukari (2007) for translation studies. The adoption of the concept of social role, which is a so-called travelling concept (Neumann and Nünning 2012) is indicative of this development (see section 2). The role concept has its epistemological roots in the social sciences (see section 3).

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A sociological turn as any other turn, however, can only unfold if the key concepts involved are truly appropriated and not used in an inflationary way. The latter often seems to be the case with the role concept being ubiquitous but its implications remain unclear. The role-theoretical discussion in this paper will be transferred to IS and enriched by some selected results from the ‘Survey on Quality and Role’2,3 undertaken among the members of AIIC and the VKD (Zwischenberger 2013) and more recently also among the members of the Italian AITI and Assointerpreti as a replication study (Nimmervoll 2013). This paper sets out to find out about the degree of importance professionals attach to their own social position and to the feedback they receive from the various groups and individuals related to it and how satisfied they are with the position they occupy.

2.

Social Role as a Travelling Concept

Travelling concepts, which are imported from other disciplines and research fields, have their roots in postcolonial studies (Clifford 1997). They are important because they form the very basis of interdisciplinary research. The discipline of Translation Studies has a long history of such imported concepts. These notions seem inconspicuous at first sight, almost like simple words but this proves wrong as “[. . .] concepts are, or rather do, much more. If well thought through, they offer miniature theories, and in that guise, help in the analysis of objects, situations, states and other theories” (Bal 2009: 19). Scientific concepts thus always precede the import of the theories or theoretical approaches they are associated with. As shorthand theories, they are equipped with a lot of power. Furthermore, scientific concepts determine through which lens a certain object of study, subjects, or an entire area of investigation can be viewed and approached. They also determine the formulation of research questions, which, on the other hand, has an impact on the research methods to be used. Travelling concepts thus form the basis and give impetus to new scientific turns in a discipline or research field. A new scientific turn, however, may be said to truly unfold and be taken only if certain premises are fulfilled. A concept necessarily needs to go through three stages for this to occur: 1. expansion of the object or thematic field; 2. metaphorization; 3. methodological refinement, provoking a conceptual leap and transdisciplinary application. [. . .] Thus, only when the conceptual leap has been made and [a concept] is no longer restricted to a particular object of investigation, but moves right across the disciplines as a new means of knowledge and a methodologically reflected analytical category, can we really speak of a ‘[. . .] turn’. (Bachmann-Medick 2009: 4)

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This conceptual leap and methodological refinement, however, necessarily presupposes that the epistemological roots of a scientific concept are known. A thorough theorisation of a concept therefore needs to be undertaken. Only then can a concept serve as an impetus for a new turn in a discipline or research field. Only on the basis of this theoretical and conceptual groundwork can a concept be properly appropriated by another discipline or research field. So far, however, the concept of social role, which was the key concept of such a large number of both theoretical and empirical studies in IS, has not been approached theoretically, dissected and laid bare. There are a few exceptions, however, that at least hinted at the theoretical background of the role concept. Pöchhacker (1994: 77ff.) presented a number of roles that may appear in the hypertext of a conference and thereby touched upon the role concept. He differentiated between roles and positions referring to Dahrendorf (1968), who is one of the most prominent exponents of role theory. Wadensjö (1998) undertook a sociolinguistic analysis of interpreting in a police setting. She differentiated between the various roles an interpreter has to perform during an assignment: “In taking on a social role, such as interpreter, the individual performers must see to it that they make a credible impression on the role others—i.e. the relevant audience with whom they interact in the role in question” (Wadensjö 1998: 83). Wadensjö (1998) bases her work on the tenets of Goffman (1961) and his interactionist approach. So far Zwischenberger (2013) seems to have delivered the most detailed analysis and appropriation of the role concept for IS. She underlined the roots of the role concept in the social sciences and analysed the various components of the entire role-theoretical makeup and adapted them for the field of simultaneous conference interpreting.

3.

The Roots and Theoretical Streams of the Role Concept

While the scientific roots of the social role concept may be found particularly in sociology, social psychology and social anthropology, further traces may also be found in the performing arts. In theatre or in film, an actor ‘plays’ his/her role in front of an audience. Furthermore, acting fundamentally differs from other types of behaviour in as much as an actor takes on another character’s role which is scripted (Bollnow 1978). Recent innovative practices in the pedagogy of interpreting are inspired by role play as practised in theatre pedagogy (Bahadir 2010; Kadrić 2011). There is not only one single role theory, but various role-theoretical approaches or perspectives. Biddle (1986) presents a total of five role-theoretical approaches which roughly speaking describe social roles either as something given or negotiable. Functional role theory goes back to the work of Linton (1936) and was elaborated on by Parsons (1952). In this theory “‘roles’ are conceived as

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the shared, normative expectations that prescribe and explain [these] behaviours” (Biddle 1986: 70). This perspective focuses on the characteristic behaviour of persons occupying social positions in stable social systems. Roles from this perspective fulfil certain purposes for a social system. Members of this social system adopt social roles via socialization. Structural role theory places attention on social structures that are conceived as stable entities composed of various social positions, which are all characterised by the same behavioural patterns or social roles. Structural and functional role theories are very similar and may actually be presented as one (Zwischenberger 2013: 57–58), in that they represent social roles as something normatively preconceived and pre-given, and thus associated to fixed behavioural patterns that are adopted and shared by all members in a social system. Symbolic interactionist role theory draws on the seminal work by Mead (1934). This perspective defines social roles not as something prefixed and stable, but as something to be negotiated among the various social actors. Social roles from this perspective are related to norms as well, but “norms are said to provide merely a set of broad imperatives within which the details of roles can be worked out” (Biddle 1986: 71). The last two perspectives presented by Biddle (1986) are organisational and cognitive role theory. While the former focuses on investigating the various roles in formal organisations, the latter places its emphasis on studying and measuring the cognitive generation of role expectations and the behaviour related to them. The first three approaches to role theory are not merely the most well-known and popular ones, but they also seem to be the most appropriate for studying the social roles of professional interpreters. In the case of professional conference interpreting, and in particular AIIC, one may presuppose the structural-functional approach, in as much as the various social roles adopted and played by a conference interpreter are, to a very large extent, already predefined by rather fixed socio-professional norms due to the long years of professionalisation this branch of interpreting has experienced (Zwischenberger 2015). Furthermore, the very nature of conference interpreting, which is mainly simultaneous4 nowadays, leaves little leeway for actively negotiating the various social roles involved on-site in the professional field.

4.

The Social Role Concept and Its Various Components

Despite the differing perspectives taken on the social role concept, the various groups agreed on a social role consisting of a bundle of normative role-related expectations, which are directed to the occupants of social positions by a group and/or another collective of people or also single individuals (Allen and Van de Vliert 1984; Joas 1991). One of the key elements of a social role is the concept of social position, which may be conceptualized as

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a place within a whole network of social relations. It has to be clearly distinguished from a social role: “Role will be consistently distinguished from status, position or value type as referring to the entire behaviour which is felt to belong intrinsically to those subdivisions” (Turner 1956: 317). Social roles are attached to a social position. An interpreter performs her/his various social roles from her/his social position as an interpreter. S/he plays a certain role towards the speaker, the listeners, etc. One may differentiate between the social positions of a community interpreter or conference interpreter. The latter, for example, may be split into the positions of freelance or staff conference interpreter (Zwischenberger 2013: 60). When one takes a look into the respective IS literature revolving around the social role concept, however, one often gets the impression that no differentiations are undertaken at all. Everything is subsumed rather unspecifically under the role concept, which is taken for granted and thus remains nebulous and undefined. There also seems to be only one single role involved when, in fact, the interpreter is expected to play as many roles as there are single role others, groups and/or collectives of people, who direct their expectations towards the holder of a particular social position. Any social position is the sum of the various rights and duties associated with it. Role expectations represent the phenomenal correlates of the rights and duties in the cognitive processes of a single person, group or other collective of people who direct their expectations to the holder of a social position (Sader 1969: 211f.). Thus the various roles the simultaneous conference interpreter performs from his/her social position are moulded and influenced by the expectations s/he is confronted with. S/he is certainly expected to play a certain role towards the listeners, the speaker/s, the boothmate/s, the head of the team, etc., at a given conference. Therefore, a social position consists of various position segments (Sader 1969: 2011). This whole aggregate of intertwined social positions which all relate their expectations towards the social position of a conference interpreter is called a “position field” (Dahrendorf 1968: 46). All of the aforementioned groups or single persons of reference direct their expectations from the outside to the social position of the simultaneous conference interpreter and thus form the nomothetic role-related dimension. There is, however, also an inside, ideographic role-related dimension to it. The professional also holds specific role-related expectations and plays a certain role towards him-/herself (Getzel and Thelen 1960). The role-related expectations are either formulated and directed to the holder of a social position by single individuals or by an entire group. The latter are called reference groups in role-theoretical approaches. These groups may either be social groups, in the narrower sense, that dispose of an awareness as a group and distinguish themselves from other collectives. This closely knit group is also able to set collective actions (Bahrdt 2003: 70). AIIC may be regarded as a case in point for such a closely knit reference

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group, which formulates and also directs certain expectations to the social position of a conference interpreter. A reference group may, however, also be a looser circle of people, whose status of belonging is not really all that certain. The listeners at a conference may be regarded as an example for this sort of reference group. These role-related expectations are not value-free but rather loaded with norms as suggested by Hermans (1997: 7): “What I mean by a norm is neither more nor less than a kind of loaded expectation”. Role-related expectations are thus the carriers of norms, especially when it comes to professional conference interpreting, which has undergone several decades of professionalisation. One of the driving forces behind this process is certainly AIIC, which was founded in 1953 in Paris. This professional organisation may be regarded as a norm-setting authority (Zwischenberger 2015). While the concept of social role per se is usually taken for granted and thus left conceptually untouched in IS, the social norm concept has been theorised and appropriated very well from its inception in Translation Studies. It has already played a fundamental role in the constitution of Descriptive Translation Studies (Toury 1995). The norm concept was then introduced to conference interpreting research by Shlesinger (1989) on the occasion of the launch of the Translation Studies journal, Target. Frequently, norms are related to the existence of certain values in a social system. Toury (1999) defined the social norm concept as the concrete expression of these values: The translation of general values and ideas shared by a group—as to what is conventionally right and wrong, adequate and inadequate—into performance instructions appropriate for and applicable to particular situations. (Toury 1999: 14) These performance instructions may then be directed to the owner of a social position who translates them into concrete actions. When deviations from behaviour prescribed by norms occur, punishment is employed in the form of sanctions. Sanctions, thus, are an integral part of social norms. Their employment also indicates the very existence of social norms and is ultimately also an integral part of the social role-makeup (Eichner 1981).

5.

A Web-Based Survey and Two Replication Studies: Its Aims and Methods

The ‘Survey on Quality and Role’ was undertaken as a web-based survey among AIIC members. It sought to find out how professional conference interpreters perceived the various roles associated with their social position and how this related to the aspect of quality. Various specific research

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questions and hypotheses were formulated in this respect (Zwischenberger 2013: 145–147). Further replication studies were conducted among the members of the German VKD (Zwischenberger 2013) and more recently among the members of the Italian conference interpreters associations Assointerpreti and AITI5 (Nimmervoll 2013) in order to contrast the results gained at an international level with findings from associations mainly operating within a national frame. This chapter will present some selected findings which directly relate to the conference interpreter’s social position and the position field into which it is embedded. The questionnaire was focused on the role-related expectations professionals hold themselves. It thus presents the ideographic role-related dimension. This paper aims to explore how important professionals from various associations, situated both at a national and an international level, perceive their social position and how satisfied they are with it. Furthermore, the relative importance of feedback coming from the various groups of reference or single persons of reference forming the entire position field is rated. I investigate whether the membership with a certain professional body has a bearing on the various ratings. Moreover, I analyse whether independent socio-demographic variables such as age, gender or work experience influence the various expectations and thus overall ratings as well. All of the three surveys were designed and undertaken with the open-source and freely usable web-questionnaire generator software LimeSurvey. All of the members were directly and personally contacted via email and received an invitation containing a link to the survey consisting of a token which was made up of a multi-digit number embedded in the URL in order to guarantee restricted access to the survey and avoid multiple completions. The response rate was 28.5% (704 responses) from AIIC members, 33.3% (107 responses) from VKD members and 42.8% (95 responses) in the case of the Italian Assointerpreti and AITI6 members.

6.

Professionals’ Socio-demographic and Professional Background

The gender gap is the smallest with the AIIC sample population featuring a total of 75.7% (533) female and 24.3% (171) male professionals. It is followed by the survey results from the German VKD which reveal a total of 86% (92) women and 14% (15) men. The gender gap is by far the widest with the Italian Assointerpreti and AITI results featuring 90.5% (95) female and only 9.5% (9) male respondents. The AIIC survey also has the oldest members on average, with both a mean and median of 52 years, followed by the members from Italian Assointerpreti and AITI with a mean of 50 years and a median of 49 years. In comparison, the German VKD has the youngest members, with an average age of only 40 years and a median of 42 years.

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The work experience expressed in years is the highest among Assointerpreti and AITI members with 24.5 years on average and a median of 24 years, closely followed by an average work experience of 24 years and a median of 23 years among AIIC members. The work experience with the German VKD reveals 12 years on average and a median of 10 years. It is thus less than half the work experience of the other two sample populations. As regards university-level degree the picture changes. Here VKD respondents are clearly in the lead with 92.5% of VKD members holding a respective university-level degree in interpreting/translation. The members of AIIC and the Italian Assointerpreti and AITI are rather far behind with 78.9% of AIIC members and only 72.8% of the Italian professionals with a specific degree.

7.

The Interpreter’s View on Their Social Position and Position Field: Importance, Satisfaction and Feedback

The professionals were asked to rate the relative importance of their social position via the question “How important do you think your work usually is for successful communication?” The results in Figure 3.1 show that none of the three sample populations involved rated their work or social position as ‘unimportant’. VKD members rated their work the highest and the results also revealed that not one single member rated the relative importance of his/her work less than ‘important’, which was statistically significant in a Chi-square test. VKD members rated the importance of their work and social position for successful communication statistically significantly higher than AIIC members: (χ² (N = 794, df =2) = 6.574; p = 0.037 < 0.05).

80% 60.6% 60%

50.1% 53.3%

40%

46.7%

47.1% 37.5%

20% 2.8%

1.9%

0% very important

important AIIC

VKD

less important

unimportant

Assointerpreti & AITI

Figure 3.1 Relative Importance of the Position of the Simultaneous Conference Interpreter

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This result is surprising, as one may have expected members of the prestigious, hegemonic, international and long-standing AIIC to rate their social position as the highest in comparison to the two younger and smaller professional bodies. In regards to the various independent background variables, no statistically significant correlations were found within the two smaller sample populations of the German VKD and the Italian Assointerpreti and AITI.7 This finding, however, does not apply to the AIIC population which revealed a total of two statistically significant influences of the professional’s socio-demographic and professional background on the rating of the relative importance of the interpreter’s social position. The various Chi-square tests undertaken revealed that there was a correlation between the length of AIIC membership and the rating of relative importance, as well as the frequency of consecutive interpreting done in professional practice and the rating. In preparation of the statistical analysis the variable of AIIC membership in years was split into thirds. 52.1% of the third, which represented AIIC membership of up to eight years, rated their work to be ‘very important’. This percentage in the category ‘very important’ decreases proportionally with the length of membership. While 49.5% of professionals who were part of the association between 9 and 19 years still rated the impact of their social position as “very important”, only 39.8% in the category of 20+ years made this same rating (χ² (N = 676, df = 4) = 9.842; p = 0.043 < 0.05). Here a significant change in role perceptions can be seen. The enthusiasm for the interpreter’s relative importance is therefore the highest among relative newcomers in the association. Another statistically significant influence was the frequency with which interpreters perform consecutive interpreting in their professional practice. Interpreters who indicated that they performed conference interpreting in the categories ranging from “nearly always to often” in the questionnaire’s part on socio-demographic variables, rated their weight in the communication process statistically significantly higher than those who reported to work in the consecutive mode from “hardly ever to never” (χ² (N = 686, df = 2) = 8.606; p = 0.014 < 0.05). While 55.2% of AIIC respondents who indicated working in the consecutive mode from “nearly always to often” indicated they perceived their social position to be “very important”, it was only 44.9% from the pooled categories from “hardly ever to never”. The higher physical presence and thus visibility of interpreters when interpreting consecutively seems to have a positive bearing on the perception of the importance of their position in the communication process. Thus it may be assumed that the large-scale introduction of the simultaneous mode, after its successful implementation at the Nuremberg War Trials in 1945–46, may have caused a real change in the perception of the social position of the conference interpreter and its ensuing social roles (see also Zwischenberger 2011). As regards professionals’ satisfaction with their social position (“How often are you satisfied with your work after a conference?”), the values

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60%

50.0% 34.8%

40%

46.8%

34.3% 34.0%

16.5% 14.9%

20%

8.6%

1.4% 1.1%

0.6%

1.0%

0% always

very often AIIC

often VKD

sometimes hardly ever

never

Assointerpreti & AITI

Figure 3.2 Professional’s Satisfaction with Their Work

obtained from VKD members show they are again in the lead, when the three positive categories “always, very often and often” are pooled. In Figure 3.2, the results show that 90.5% of VKD members are satisfied with their work from “always to often”, compared to 85.1% of Assointerpreti and AITI members and 83% of AIIC respondents. The order is again the same as with the rating of the relative importance of the interpreter’s work. This difference, which is not very pronounced, was also not statistically significant. Thus the result may not be inferred to the underlying target populations and occurred by chance. There were also no statistically significant correlations between the rating of satisfaction and the various independent background variables in none of the three sample populations. This indicates a large degree of intragroup consensus regarding the frequency with which the professionals experience satisfaction with the work they do, and ultimately the social position they occupy in the position field. Subsequent to the rating of satisfaction, the survey participants were also requested to freely indicate their reasons for (dis-)satisfaction via a filter question. Having rated their degree of satisfaction from “always to often”, respondents were asked to freely indicate reasons for their satisfaction. Survey participants who indicated their frequency of satisfaction with “sometimes” were requested to give reasons for their (dis-)satisfaction, while respondents who ticked “hardly ever” or “never” were asked to report their reasons for their dissatisfaction. The analysis of the responses resulted in the following taxonomy, showing the reasons for satisfaction (Table 3.1). It is noted that only the reasons indicated by at least 10% of respondents appear in this taxonomy. An exception is the various spontaneously mentioned reference groups and their feedback for the simultaneous conference interpreter. They are given in the overview, irrespective of the percentages they obtained, as they play an important role for this paper and

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Table 3.1 Taxonomy of the Reasons for Satisfaction (Free Responses) Reasons for SATISFACTION

AIIC (N = 530)

VKD (N = 77)

Assointerpreti & AITI (N = 72)

Fulfilling one’s own standards Feedback (in general)

27.7%

37.7% 15.6%

27.8%

Feedback from listeners Feedback from organisers Feedback from colleagues Feedback from speakers

21.9% 8.3% 6.4% 4.0%

36.4% 23.4% 11.7% 18.2%

26.4% 12.5% 4.2% 5.6%

Ensuring smooth communication/ understanding Conveying (“getting across”) the message (without any further specification) Conveying the message’s content correctly Conveying the message’s form correctly Feeling of being useful Overall positive impression Good working conditions Good working atmosphere

11.3%

22.1%

11.1%

10.6%

19.2%

19.4%

10.4% 11.7%

13.6% 10.2% 15.6% 16.9%

the results which follow subsequently to this taxonomy in particular. The top three reasons identified via a accumulation of the percentages by the three groups are given in bold in Table 3.1. Considering the fact that not every survey participant was confronted with the filter question on the reasons for satisfaction, a high number of respondents in all the three survey populations spontaneously gave their reasons for satisfaction. The most frequent freely reported reason for satisfaction by all three groups was “fulfilling one’s own standards”. It was freely indicated by a total of 37.7% of VKD members and an almost identical amount of AIIC and Assointerpreti and AITI members of almost 28%, respectively. Thus living up to one’s own expectations or the ideographic role-related dimension is the most important one and was expressed by statements such as “having worked to my standards” (AIIC Respondent 179), “having given a good interpreting performance according to one’s own expectations and taking the circumstances into account” (VKD R. 46; my translation from German). Therefore, satisfaction primarily has intrinsic roots. An extrinsic confirmation is welcomed, but not imperative to sustain that feeling: “You know when you’ve got it right” (AIIC R. 124) or “The awareness of a good job done, if such awareness is confirmed by somebody so much the better” (AIIC R. 11).

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This positive extrinsic confirmation of one’s work and ultimately social position seems to be the most highly appreciated one’ base on the reference group of listeners. This is the case for all the three respondent groups involved. Again, the highest percentage of spontaneous indications of the relative importance of feedback from listeners comes from VKD respondents (36.4%). For all the three groups, it is the second most important spontaneously mentioned trigger of satisfaction and expressed by statements such as “when listeners come and congratulate you, or even just show a thumbs up!” (AIIC R. 375). As already expressed by this comment, the feedback does not necessarily have to be of a verbal nature: “Sincere gratitude in listeners’ eyes” (AIIC R. 192). Other spontaneously mentioned reference groups by all three respondent groups are the colleagues, speakers and organisers. The importance of positive feedback for satisfaction from the latter group is the second most frequently spontaneously mentioned. Again, it is the most frequently reported by VKD members, followed by the feedback from speakers, as a reason for professional satisfaction. The feedback coming from colleagues seems to be the least decisive trigger of satisfaction for all groups. From the Table 3.1 results, the various reference groups always seem to play a somewhat more decisive role as triggers of satisfaction for the professionals pertaining to the smaller professional bodies, the VKD and Assointerpreti and AITI. This conclusion seems to apply to VKD members in particular. The third most frequently spontaneously reported reason for satisfaction when cumulating the various percentages is the category: “Ensuring smooth communication/understanding”. This category is represented by statements such as “the audience and speakers have communicated without really noticing that their communication was ensured by simultaneous interpretation” (Assointerpreti and AITI R. 76; my translation from Italian), or in the same vein “the speakers forget about my presence” (Assointerpreti and AITI R. 87). The establishment of smooth communication as a trigger of satisfaction thus seems to co-exist with the construct of the interpreter’s invisibility. While the first and second most frequently mentioned reasons for satisfaction do not only apply in cumulative terms but also represent the most important reasons for the respondent groups when viewed individually, this is not the case for “ensuring smooth communication/understanding”. The third most important reason for satisfaction for AIIC members is “conveying the message’s content correctly” and was spontaneously indicated by over 19% of respondents. For VKD members, the third most frequently reported trigger of satisfaction was represented by “feedback from organisers” (23.4%), while for respondents pertaining to the Assointerpreti and AITI, it was simply “conveying the message (without any further specification)” (19.4%). The top reason for dissatisfaction was the “non-fulfilling of one’s own standards”—both for AIIC and VKD members. No comparison with Assointerpreti and AITI members is included, as virtually no one indicated any reasons for dissatisfaction. The number of respondents confronted with

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Table 3.2 Taxonomy of the Reasons for Dissatisfaction (Spontaneous Indications) Reasons for DISSATISFACTION

AIIC (N = 93)

VKD (N = 8)

Non-fulfilling one’s own standards Feeling of not being an active part of the conference

40.9% 11.8%

37.5%

Bad working conditions Incompetent speakers (in general) Non-native (English) speakers Unintelligible speakers

36.6%

37.5% 37.5% 12.5% 12.5%

Speaker’s speaking speed Speakers talking with little pathos Incorrect conveyance of the message’s contents Incorrect conveyance of the message’s form No feedback (in general)

25.8%

12.9%

12.5% 12.5% 25.0% 12.5%

this filter question was much too low. Thus no percentages are given and no taxonomy could be created (Nimmervoll 2013: 131). Again, only the reasons for dissatisfaction which were indicated spontaneously by at least 10% are given in Table 3.2. The three most frequently mentioned reasons in cumulative terms are in bold. The second most frequent spontaneously mentioned reason for dissatisfaction in cumulative terms, and by both groups individually, are poor working conditions. This trigger of dissatisfaction was, however, not further specified. What is striking about this taxonomy is that the reference group of speakers, or the position segment simultaneous interpreter-speaker, becomes a very relevant trigger of dissatisfaction. This, however, did not prove to be the case with the reasons for satisfaction (see Table 3.1). In Table 3.2, a total of five categories associated with the reference group of speakers appear as explicitly mentioned triggers of dissatisfaction. The speaker’s talking speed, as well as non-native speakers (of English) were mentioned spontaneously by most respondents. Thus the reference group of speakers seems to be more a potential source of frustration than a creation of satisfaction to the professionals. The relative irrelevance the reference group of speakers has as a trigger of positive sentiments in the simultaneous conference interpreter, when compared to the other groups of reference or single persons of reference is also confirmed by the least degree of importance attached to the feedback coming from speakers (Table 3.3). The respondents were asked to rate the relative importance of positive feedback coming from various reference groups or single persons of reference in the position field on a four-point ordinal scale ranging from “very important” to “unimportant”. In preparation of the Chi-square tests, the categories were pooled together (Table 3.3).

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Table 3.3 Relative Importance of Positive Feedback for Simultaneous Interpreters Feedback From . . .

Respondent Group

(Very) Important

Less ImportantUnimportant

N=

the listeners

AIIC VKD Assointerpreti & AITI

98.9% 99.1% 98.9%

1.1% 0.9% 1.1%

701 106 95

the speakers

AIIC VKD Assointerpreti & AITI

69.2% 60.3% 88.9%

30.8% 39.7% 11.1%

636 101 90

my boothmate(s)

AIIC VKD Assointerpreti & AITI

86.3% 95.2% 91.4%

13.7% 4.8% 8.6%

688 105 93

other team members

AIIC VKD Assointerpreti & AITI

76.9% 77.2% 84.6%

23.1% 22.8% 15.4%

677 101 91

the head of my team

AIIC VKD Assointerpreti & AITI

79.8% 89.9% 89.4%

20.1% 10.1% 10.6%

649 99 85

the conference organisers

AIIC VKD Assointerpreti & AITI

87.8% 92.2% 97.8%

12.2% 7.8% 2.2%

687 102 86

The reference group of speakers seems to be the least important one when it comes to receiving positive feedback. This finding, however, does not apply to Assointerpreti and AITI members. A Chi-square test showed that Assointerpreti and AITI members rated the relative importance of positive feedback coming from speakers statistically significantly higher than AIIC members did (χ² (N = 726, df = 1) = 15.066; p = 0.000 < 0.05). For Assointerpreti and AITI members the positive feedback coming from other team members has the least relevance in comparison to the other categories. It is evident that all three respondent groups valued positive feedback coming from listeners the most. This comes as no surprise and confirms the results in Table 3.1. All three groups reveal almost identically high ratings, and therefore, no statistically significant differences could be found among them. The second most highly valued reference group in terms of positive feedback are the conference organisers. They are valued the most highly by the Italian Assointerpreti and AITI group. Again the Italian group rated the positive feedback coming from conference organisers statistically significantly higher than their colleagues from the international AIIC according to the results of a Chi-square test (χ² (N = 779, df = 1) = 8.349; p = 0.004 < 0.05). This reference group is followed by the importance attached to the positive feedback coming from the group of boothmates. The members of the German VKD value this reference group particularly highly. In fact, the

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difference in the rating of the positive feedback coming from boothmates between VKD and AIIC members resulted to be statistically significant in a Chi-square test (χ² (N = 793, df = 1) = 6.606; p = 0.010 < 0.05). In comparison to the group of boothmates, the positive feedback being expressed by the head of the team and other team members has a lesser importance for all the three surveyed groups. Whilst the degree of importance attached to the feedback coming from the head of the team is almost identical from VKD and Assointerpreti and AITI members, AIIC members attribute a lesser degree of importance to the positive feedback from the head of the team. The Chi-square tests undertaken revealed a statistically significant difference both between the ratings of AIIC and VKD members (χ² (N = 748, df = 1) = 5.710; p = 0,017 < 0.05) as well as between AIIC and Assointerpreti and AITI members (χ² (N = 734, df = 1) = 4.484; p = 0.034 < 0.05). As regards the positive feedback being expressed by other team members, the highest degree of importance is attributed by the Italian group. Both the German VKD members and the AIIC members rated the feedback coming from other team members almost identically, although VKD members still revealed a slightly higher rating. As far as the group of other team members is concerned, no statistically significant intergroup differences in the rating could be identified. In general, it may be summed up that the positive feedback from the various external groups of reference or single persons of reference are, in most cases, valued somewhat higher by the two smaller respondent groups VKD and Assointerpreti and AITI. Thus the nomothetic role-related dimension seems to have a somewhat greater relevance for the smaller professional bodies than the international AIIC. As regards the influence of the independent background variables on the ratings, it turned out that there were only statistically significant results within the AIIC group. According to Table 3.3, the least importance is attached to positive feedback from the group of speakers in total. Within AIIC, however, it showed that there is a gender discrepancy, where female conference interpreters rated the relative importance of positive feedback from speakers statistically significantly higher than their male colleagues. Among the women, 72.1% considered the feedback expressed by speakers as “(very) important” compared to 59.9% of men (χ² (N = 636, df = 1) = 8.127; p = 0.004 < 0.05). This result matches another finding of the “Survey on Quality and Role”. Female conference interpreters also proved to agree statistically significantly higher on the socio-professional norm of loyalty towards the speaker/original. This social norm is explicitly demanded in various meta-texts on conference interpreting issued by AIIC (Zwischenberger 2015). There was another statistically significant correlation between the background variables and the rating of the relative importance of positive feedback coming from speakers: 77.9% of professionals working from “almost always” to “often” in the consecutive mode and 66.7% of AIIC members interpreting consecutively from “hardly ever to never’ rated the

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speakers” feedback as “(very) important” (χ² (N = 632, df = 1) = 6.084; p = 0.014 < 0.05). This is hardly surprising as there is a greater physical proximity and contact between the interpreter and the speaker in consecutive interpreting. Furthermore, the interpreter works consecutively to the speaker’s rendition, which gives the latter time to observe the audience’s reaction more closely. Thus the feedback being expressed by the speaker has more weight in the consecutive mode. From outside the interpreter’s circle, there were two more significant influences on the rating of the feedback from the group of conference organisers. Freelance conference interpreters attached a statistically significantly greater importance to the feedback of conference interpreters than their staff interpreter colleagues did (χ² (N = 649, df = 1) = 6.150; p = 0.013 < 0.05). 88.9% of freelancers rated the positive feedback from conference organisers as “(very) important”, while in the category of staff interpreters it was 78.1% in comparison. This result may be explained by the fact that conference organisers play a far greater role in commissioning interpreting services on the freelance market. This data interpretation is further backed by the fact that interpreters working for the non-agreement8 market also rated the feedback from conference organisers statistically significantly higher (90.2% “(very) important”) than their colleagues from the agreement sector (83.2% = “(very) important”), or the interpreters working for both markets (89.8% = “(very) important”) (χ² (N = 687, df = 3) = 6.620; p = 0.037 < 0.05). The rating of the feedback being expressed within the interpreting circle itself also yielded some significant intragroup differences in the AIIC group. The positive feedback from the head of the team produced the most differences by far. Female conference interpreters attached more significance to the head’s feedback than did their male colleagues (χ² (N = 649, df = 1) = 6.150; p = 0.013 < 0.05). Eighty-two percent of women and 73% of men rated the feedback from the head of the team as “(very) important”. Freelance interpreters rated the head’s feedback also statistically significantly higher than staff interpreters: (χ² (N = 649, df =1) = 4.692; p = 0.030 < 0.05). Eighty-one percent of freelancers versus only 70% of staff interpreters rated the head’s feedback as “(very) important”. This finding is again confirmed by the 84.3% of professionals working for the non-agreement sector, who rated the feedback from the head of the interpreting team as “(very) important” versus the 73.6% of interpreters working primarily for the agreement sector and the 80.1% of professionals who indicated working for both markets. This difference in the rating of importance was also statistically significant (χ² (N = 649, df = 2) = 8.691; p = 0.013 < 0.05). Freelance conference interpreters as well as professionals not working primarily for the institutional market depend to a greater extent on the positive opinion of the head of a team, who may also be very important when it comes to offering further interpreting jobs. In general, relying on the social network created or the social capital accumulated is much more important

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and decisive for freelance interpreters and professionals who are not working for the various international institutions. Furthermore, AIIC members with 20+ years’ membership rated the importance of feedback from a head of the team the least important. This difference in the rating proved to be statistically significant (χ² (N = 649, df = 2) = 6.150; p = 0.013 < 0.05). The importance attached to this sort of feedback decreases proportionally with the length of AIIC membership. While there are still 85.4% of professionals with a membership of up to nine years who regard the head’s feedback as “(very) important”, it is 81.9% of members of AIIC of 9–19 years and only 73.8% of respondents who have held a membership of 20+ years that hold this same view. The same applies to the significance attached to feedback from other team members. Again, the importance attached to this sort of feedback decreases with the length of AIIC membership. The decrease, however, is only pronounced between the second (80.1% = (very) important) and third category (69.8% = (very) important), while the first category (80.9% = (very) important) reveals an almost identical rating as the second one. Again 20+ years members of AIIC rate the relative importance of feedback statistically significantly lower than the other two categories (χ² (N = 687, df = 2) = 9.554; p = 0.008 < 0.05). The last two results may be interpreted in the light of the social and also symbolic capital accumulated by professionals who have held a membership for at least two decades with the prestigious AIIC. Professionals with a certain amount of social and symbolic capital may be expected to be less dependent on the positive opinion on their work by their peers in order to secure their economic capital. They may be expected to be established enough and thus freer from the influence of certain opinions.

8.

Conclusions

The role-theoretical approach taken in research on conference interpreting is an important signal for a sociological turn under way in the field. It means recognising that conference interpreting is not only a cognitively and mentally challenging task but also very complex and multidimensional from a social and sociological perspective. However, for a turn to really unfold, it is imperative not only to employ the key concepts carrying a scientific turn but also to elaborate on them by identifying their epistemological roots. This is important for at least two reasons. First, a scientific concept like social role can only become a methodologically reflected analytical tool to be used gainfully if its theoretical background is laid bare. Second, this provides the IS scholar with a whole new set of vocabulary with which to approach the research object and its subjects empirically. It provides the opportunity to see and describe everything from a different angle and to formulate new research questions. Elaborating theoretically on the social role concept has also shown that there is not just a single role the interpreter plays, but as many as there

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are position segments, s/he is confronted with. The concepts of social role and social position may not be confounded. The external expectations the interpreter is confronted with form the nomothetic role-related dimension, while the expectations the interpreter holds him-/herself are the ideographic role-related dimension. This chapter examined the latter and presented the results gained by conducting a web-survey among the members of the international AIIC, the German VKD as well as members from the Italian Assointerpreti and AITI. The study’s findings suggest a high degree of relative importance attached to the work and ultimately social position that the interpreter occupies in her/his position field. Furthermore, a high degree of both intragroup and intergroup satisfaction was identified, which is also proven by the fact that no statistically significant differences in the various ratings were found. Various reasons for (dis-)satisfaction were spontaneously indicated by the three respondent groups. The most frequently spontaneously mentioned reason for both satisfaction and dissatisfaction was the fulfilling or non-fulfilling one’s own standards. This reason is a highly subjective and intrinsic one which, as such, fully responds to the ideographic role-related dimension. The second most frequently mentioned reason for satisfaction by all three groups is the extrinsic one of feedback from listeners. Feedback from listeners is not only one of the very top reasons for satisfaction mentioned spontaneously, but the relative importance of positive feedback expressed by listeners was also the most highly rated by all three groups. Furthermore, it was the only reference group whose feedback importance was uncontested, in as much as there were no intergroup or intragroup statistically significant differences in the rating. The relative importance of the feedback coming from all the other groups yielded such differences. The reference group whose feedback yielded the least degree of importance was the group of speakers. This group was also spontaneously mentioned the most often as a trigger of dissatisfaction when it came to having to deal with speaker’s non-native accent or their excessive speaking speed. In sum, it may be stated that—apart from the importance unanimously attributed to the feedback coming from listeners—the other reference groups forming the nomothetic role-related dimension seem to have a greater significance for the members of the smaller and less prestigious professional associations, VKD and Assointerpreti and AITI. It may be concluded that members of the prestigious and elitist AIIC which can grant social and symbolic power like no other professional body, and which features the highest number of professionals working for institutions, are somewhat less dependent on the nomothetic dimension.

Notes 1. In Zwischenberger (2016), there is an analysis of the hegemonic forces which mould the field of conference interpreting practice.

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2. The Survey on Quality and Role conducted among the members of AIIC and the German VKD by the author of this paper was part of the larger research project ‘Quality in Simultaneous Interpreting’ funded by the Austrian Science Fund (FWF) and led by Franz Pöchhacker. 3. This concept was first introduced by Robert K. Merton when interpreting data were gathered about American soldiers in World War II (Dahrendorf 1968: 46). 4. According to the socio-professional data gathered by the ‘Survey on Quality and Role’ (Zwischenberger 2013: 195), almost 80% of the 811 professionals surveyed indicated to work in the consecutive mode from “hardly ever to never”. 5. While Assointerpreti (Associazione Nazionale Interpreti di Conferenza Professionisti) is an association entirely representing conference interpreters, this is not the case for AITI (Associazione Italiana Traduttori e Interpreti). Thus, for the latter, the membership list for conference interpreters available online had to be used (Nimmervoll 2013: 69–70). 6. Members with double membership who had already participated in the survey were excluded from participating again. 7. This needs to be explained with smaller sample sizes which have an influence on statistical tests and their validity. 8. The agreement sector is an AIIC-specific term used to denote big international employers or rather institutions like the UN or the EU with whom AIIC has negotiated agreements regarding interpreters’ working conditions, remuneration, etc. The non-agreement sector refers to the private market. The AIIC sample reveals the highest percentage of professionals working primarily for the agreement sector in comparison (AIIC = 33.1% vs. VKD = 3.7% vs. Assointerpreti and AITI = 0%). Furthermore, it also shows the highest percentage of interpreters working for both the institutional and private market to almost the same extent (AIIC = 42.3% vs. VKD = 7.5% vs. Assointerpreti and AITI = 10.5%).

References Allen, Vernon L. and Van de Vliert, Evert (1984) A role theoretical perspective on transitional processes. In V. L. Allen and E. Van de Vliert (eds.) Role Transitions: Explorations and Explanations. New York: Plenum Press, 3–18. Angelelli, Claudia (2004) Revisiting the Interpreter’s Role: A Study of Conference, Court, and Medical Interpreters in Canada, Mexico and the United States. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Bachmann-Medick, Doris (2009) Introduction: The translational turn. Translation Studies 2(1): 2–16. Bahadir, Şebnem (2010) Dolmetschinszenierungen. Kulturen, Identitäten, Akteure. Berlin: SAXA Verlag. Bahrdt, Hans P. (2003) Schlüsselbegriffe der Soziologie: eine Einführung mit Lehrbeispielen. München: Beck. Bal, Mieke (2009) Working with concepts. European Journal of English Studies 13(1): 13–23. Barik, Henri C. (1971) A description of various types of omissions, additions and errors of translation encountered in simultaneous interpretation. Meta 16(4): 199–210. Beaton, Morven (2007) Interpreted ideologies in institutional discourse: The case of the European Parliament. The Translator 13(2): 271–296.

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Biddle, Bruce J. (1986) Recent Development in Role Theory. Annual Review of Sociology 12: 67–92. Bollnow, Otto F. (1978) Freiheit von der Rolle. www.otto-friedrich-bollnow.de/doc/ Freiheitvonder Rolle.pdf (accessed 10 January 2016). Clifford, James (1997) Routes: Travel and Translation in the Late Twentieth Century. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Dahrendorf, Ralf (1968) Essays in the Theory of Society. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Diriker, Ebru (2004) De-/re-Contextualizing Conference Interpreting: Interpreters in the Ivory Tower. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Eichner, Klaus (1981) Die Entstehung sozialer Normen. Opladen: Westdeutscher Verlag. Gerver, David (1975) A psychological approach to simultaneous interpretation. Meta 20(2): 119–128. Getzels, Jacob W. and Thelen, Herbert A. (1960) The classroom group as a unique system. In N. B. Henry (ed.) The Dynamics of Instructional Groups. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 53–81. Gile, Daniel (1985) Le modèle d’efforts et l’équilibre d’interprétation en interpretation simultanée. Meta 30(1): 44–48. Goffman, Erving (1961) Encounters: Two Studies in the Sociology of Interaction. Indianapolis: The Bobbs Merrill Company. Hermans, Theo (1997) Translation as institution. In M. Snell-Hornby, Zuzana Jettmarová and Klaus Kaindl (eds.) Translation as Intercultural Communication. Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 3–20. Joas, Hans (1991) Rollen- und Interaktionstheorien in der Sozialisationsforschung. In K. Hurrelmann and D. Ulich (eds.) Neues Handbuch der Sozialisationsforschung. Weinheim: Beltz Verlag, 137–152. Kadrić, Mira (2011) Dialog als Prinzip. Für eine emanzipatorische Praxis und Didaktik des Dolmetschens. Tübingen: Narr Verlag. Linton, Ralph (1936) The Study of Man. New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts. Mead, George H. (1934) Mind, Self and Society. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Monacelli, Claudia (2009) Self-Preservation in Simultaneous Interpreting: Surviving the Role. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Neumann, Birgit and Nünning, Ansgar (eds.) (2012) Travelling Concepts for the Study of Culture. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter. Nimmervoll, Elisabeth (2013) Qualitätskriterien und Rollenauffassungen von KonferenzdolmetscherInnen in Italien. MA thesis, University of Vienna. Parsons, Talcott (1952) The Social System. Glencoe, IL: The Free Press. Pöchhacker, Franz (1994) Simultandolmetschen als komplexes Handeln. Tübingen: Gunter Narr. Sader, Manfred (1969) Rollentheorie. In K. Gottschaldt (ed.) Handbuch der Psychologie 7, Sozialpsychologie: Theorien und Methoden. Göttingen: Hogrefe, 204–231. Sela-Sheffy, Rakefet and Shlesinger, Miriam (eds.) (2011) Identity and Status in the Translational Professions. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Seleskovitch, Danica (1968) L’interprète dans les conferences internationals. Paris: Minard. Shlesinger, Miriam (1989) Extending the theory of translation to interpretation: Norms as a case in point. Target 1(1): 111–115.

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Toury, Gideon (1995) Descriptive Translation Studies and Beyond. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Toury, Gideon (1999) A handful of paragraphs on translation and norms. In C. Schäffner (ed.) Translation and Norms. Clevedon: Multilingual Matters, 9–31. Turner, Ralph H. (1956) Role-taking, role standpoint, and reference-group behavior. American Journal of Sociology 61(4): 316–328. Wadensjö, Cecilia (1998) Interpreting as Interaction. London: Routledge. Wolf, Michaela and Fukari, Alexandra (eds.) (2007) Constructing a Sociology of Translation. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Zwischenberger, Cornelia (2011) Conference interpreters and their self-representation. A worldwide web-based survey. In R. Sela-Sheffy and M. Shlesinger (eds.) Identity and Status in the Translational Professions. Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 139–154. Zwischenberger, Cornelia (2013) Qualität und Rollenbilder beim simultanen Konferenzdolmetschen. Berlin: Frank &Timme. Zwischenberger, Cornelia (2015) Simultaneous conference interpreting and a supernorm that governs it all. Meta 60(1): 90–111. Zwischenberger, Cornelia (2016) The Policy Maker in Conference Interpreting and its Hegemonic Power. Translation Spaces 5(2): 200–221.

Part II

Ethical Challenges in a Changing Professional Role

4

Professional Roles and Responsibilities in Designated Interpreting Annette Miner

1.

Introduction

Deaf individuals are enjoying more access to professional careers than ever before, in a variety of fields, such as academia, performing arts, health care, law and administration, as well as the corporate world (Kale and Larson 1998; Hauser, Finch and Hauser 2008; Stanton 2011). As a result, the use of interpreters in these types of settings is also on the rise. Interpreters who work with Deaf professionals on a regular basis come to perform specialized duties as a result of working in this context. Interpreters in this type of setting may develop norms specific to the Deaf and hearing participants involved, the setting, the goals, and the social interactions that occur (Campbell, Rohan and Woodcock 2008; Earhart and Hauser 2008; Napier, Carmichael and Wiltshire 2008; Oatman 2008). Interpreters who work in this capacity are known as ‘designated interpreters’. They use knowledge gained in the workplace about content and other participants to contribute to their effectiveness, are familiar with the goals of the Deaf professional as well as their communication style and preferences, and develop a level of rapport and trust over time that enhances the overall interpretation (Swabey, personal communication). In this chapter, I first report on the initial findings of my interviews with designated interpreters and Deaf professionals in the United States. In these interviews, the interpreters and professionals both discuss the unique role that interpreters have in professional settings, as well as the unique relationship that develops between the interpreter and the Deaf professional. The interpreters who were interviewed (1) consciously facilitate and maintain relationships in the workplace, (2) create seamlessness in their work for the Deaf professional, and (3) meet unorthodox expectations that are not typical of a neutral interpreter who merely interprets. Following this summary, I add perspectives from the designated interpreter interviews that are specifically related to ethics and decision making as it pertains to their specialised role. Next, I report on findings of interviews with other interpreters who serve individuals who are not Deaf professionals and draw some comparisons to those who work with Deaf professionals. Finally, I provide a profile of the designated interpreter-Deaf professional relationship based on my research and the available literature on interpreters who work for Deaf professionals.

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2.

Designated Interpreters

Some of the earliest work of designated interpreters was recognized by Kale and Larson (1998), although they did not label the interpreters as designated interpreters, but rather state that they studied staff interpreters in an academic setting. They reported on the work of interpreters who worked with professionals in an academic setting. They found that key aspects of the interpreter’s role in this setting were trustworthiness, ability to keep information they learned in their work confidential, interpretation of more than just the language occurring in any situation, and how they represented the Deaf professional. Designated interpreting for Deaf professionals has also been known as ‘diplomatic interpreting’ and is described by Cook (2004). She interviewed Deaf professionals and interpreters and found similar significant features of the work: a close relationship between the interpreter and the Deaf professional, interpreter commitment to the goals of the Deaf professional, the importance of the interpreter’s specialized knowledge of the workplace, and trust between the professional and interpreter. Hauser et al. (2008) compiled the first collection of personal experiences written by Deaf professionals and designated interpreters in a variety of fields. The volume by Hauser et al. highlights the importance of active participation of both parties, keen insight into the workplace context, teamwork, intuition, commitment, ethical challenges, and issues of neutrality in the Deaf professional-designated interpreter partnership. There were two goals for this study. The first goal was to explore the nature of the work of designated interpreters who work closely with Deaf professionals, and the nature of their relationship. A second goal was to explore the similarities between the work of designated interpreters and the work of other interpreters who serve individuals who are not Deaf professionals, a classroom interpreter and a Deaf interpreter. The work of these two types of interpreters was chosen for additional exploration because of similarities in their role as discussed in the literature (Boudreault 2005; NCIEC Deaf Interpreter Work Group 2010; Smith 2013) to the role of designated interpreters: these interpreters also (1) use knowledge gained in the workplace about content and other participants to contribute to their effectiveness, (2) are familiar with the goals of the Deaf individual as well as their communication style and preferences, and (3) develop a level of rapport and trust over time that enhances their overall interpreting work.

3.

Methodology

This collection of interviews is the first step in an ethnographic study of the Deaf professional/designated interpreter relationship. Ethnography is “a description and interpretation of a cultural or social group or system” (Creswell 1998: 58). Ethnographic studies describe the behavior, beliefs and language of a group of a people (Creswell 2002). They often describe specific

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cultures located in specific geographical areas, but they can also be studies of microcultures (McCurdy, Spradley, and Shandy 2005). Microcultures are small pockets of culture that exist within a larger culture. They are distinct from a subculture, however, in that they do not define a way of life, like a culture does. Examples of microcultures are hobby groups, such as scrap bookers or mountain bikers; sports teams, such as a college wrestling team or a gymnastics team; and occupation groups, such as schoolteachers or butchers. Individuals from a microculture belong to the larger culture and maintain the characteristics and language of this culture, but also have inside knowledge of their particular microculture and the jargon used within in. For example, mountain bikers know how and when to avoid rocks in a trail, when to shift gears when climbing a hill and when not to, and understand the pros and cons of full-suspension bikes. They share a common knowledge about types of trails, the technical skills required, and the language used to talk about their sport. For this project, the microculture being studied is the relationship between interpreters and the Deaf individuals with whom they work closely. 3.1

Procedure

For this study, nine participants were interviewed. Seven of the informants were interpreters and two were Deaf professionals. A semi-structured interview protocol was developed based on a review of the literature on designated interpreters (Weiss 1994). Two designated interpreters were interviewed with a semi-structured format. Five interviews were more open-ended, with less focused questions. Each person was interviewed one time, with the exception of one designated interpreter who was interviewed twice. Interviews took place in various locations. Some were conducted in the informants’ homes, some at their place of work, and one at the researcher’s home. Interviews were done in person, with the exception of two, which were done remotely, through videoconferencing software. Interviews with Deaf informants were conducted in American Sign Language (ASL). Interviews with other informants were conducted in spoken English. All interviews were video recorded. All interviews were either semi-structured or unstructured, allowing for development of rapport with the informants, and probing of relevant issues (Barnard 1994). Interviews took direction based on the informants. The goal was to provide “a topic of interest and get out of the way” (Barnard 1994: 212). 3.2

Analysis

Video recordings of all nine interviews were analysed and coded using ELAN, a video analysis software program developed for language analysis.1 ELAN was used regardless of the language employed in the interview. This

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method allowed for direct access to the data, as opposed to the analysis of a translation (Stone 2009) or written transcription. Videos of interviews were uploaded to the analysis software program, and data coding began by using an initial short list of tentative categories, generated by themes found in the literature on designated interpreting (political relationships, role and expectations, trust, work other than interpreting, working as one). After obtaining an overall sense of the data by viewing the recordings of interviews, the coding list was expanded and modified, and continued expanding and changing as interviews were analyzed. Codes were discarded if they did not contribute to a theme or reorganized when subsumed under a larger category. See Appendix A for a complete list of categories used in coding data. When an informant’s talk was determined to belong into a specific coding category, it was marked, then transcribed under that category, resulting in a list of perceptions, experiences, narratives, or feelings from informants corresponding to each category. 3.3

Participants

There were nine participants in this study. Two were Deaf professionals, and seven were interpreters. Since one of the goals of this study was to understand how the role of the designated interpreter is similar to or different from other types of interpreting, interviews with interpreters who did not identify as designated interpreters were also conducted. Four of the seven identified themselves as designated interpreters; one interpreter identified herself as a staff interpreter, specifically stating that she was not a designated interpreter like her counterpart, who was one of the designated interpreter informants for this study; one interpreter was a classroom interpreter; and one was a Deaf interpreter who was certified by the Registry of Interpreters for the Deaf (RID) as a Certified Deaf Interpreter (CDI) and worked as a staff interpreter. Of the two Deaf professionals in this study, both were academics at universities. One worked with two of the interpreter informants (the hearing staff interpreter and a designated interpreter), and the other Deaf professional had worked with another of the designated interpreters. Other than the educational interpreter and the CDI, participants in this study were purposefully selected based on their experience with or as a designated interpreter. Interpreter demographics are indicated in Table 4.1. The work environments of the interpreters varied. Three interpreters worked and reported on their experiences in an academic setting. One worked in a corporate environment and had previously worked in a mental health setting. One interpreter did not currently work as a designated interpreter, but had previously worked as a designated interpreter in a statewide agency serving the Deaf community, in the performing arts, and in a federal agency. Finally, the classroom interpreter who was interviewed worked in a high school setting, and the CDI worked in a statewide agency serving Deaf and hard of hearing individuals.

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Table 4.1 Interpreter Demographics Age Gender Deaf or Deaf Education Hearing Family Level

Attended Interpreter Years of Interp. Certification Interpreting Program Experience

Some college No

NAD2 V

Female Hearing No

AA degree

No

RID: CI/CT,3 Over 20 years EIPA4 4.2

46

Female Hearing No

EdS

Yes

CI, CT, NAD IV

Over 20 years

47

Female Hearing Yes

MA degree

No

None

Over 20 years

57

Female Hearing No

MA degree

No

CI/CT QMHI,5 QMHI-S6

15–20 years

40

Male

Some college No

RID: CDI7

5–10 years

26

Female Hearing No

AA degree

EIPA 4.1

1–4 years

4.

Findings

40

Male

46

Hearing Yes

Deaf

Yes

Yes

Over 20 years

Three major themes emerged from the qualitative analysis of interviews with the interpreters who worked with Deaf professionals. First, a primary expectation from the interpreters was their role in facilitating and maintaining relationships in the workplace. Second, the designated interpreters were valued for their ability to create seamlessness in the work of the Deaf professional. Third, and finally, the expectations for designated interpreters were high and unorthodox in terms of commonly expected standards of behavior for community or public service interpreters. In the findings reported next, all names of participants are pseudonyms. Quotes from hearing interpreters are reported as they were stated during interviews, and quotes from Deaf informants are translations. Findings were shared with informants to check for accuracy of the information, and adjustments were made based on their feedback. 4.1

Facilitating and Maintaining Relationships

Both the Deaf professionals and the interpreters in this study recognised the importance of professional relationships at work, and the interpreter’s role in facilitating and maintaining them. Since relationships rely on communication, interpreters play an important role in the relationships between Deaf professionals and their colleagues. The interpreters’ contributions to relationships were not limited to communication between Deaf professionals and colleagues, however. Oftentimes it involved relaying information to Deaf professionals that was heard while the professionals were not present and maintaining good relationships with the Deaf professionals’ colleagues. For example, Stan, one of the Deaf professionals in this study who

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held a leadership role in his department, relied on his interpreter, Mallory, to let him know about the relationships among others at work. Mallory remembers an early conversation with Stan in which Stan asked Mallory to share with him the gossip and other news she heard around the office, even when he was not present. For Stan, understanding the relationships of others helped him to be a more effective leader. April, the other Deaf professional in this study, chose to work with specific interpreters who she knew had good relationships with others in the office. In her experience, others saw the interpreter as a reflection of her, so a good relationship between the interpreter and other faculty members was critical. It gave her “that personal touch (with a hearing colleague that) is most important (24:36).” Other informants in this study also noted the importance of maintaining good relationships with the Deaf professional’s colleagues. Hollie, the interpreter in this study who worked with a Deaf actor in a theater company, was conscious of the boundaries of her relationships with other cast members. She took care that they did not adversely affect the work of the Deaf professional, as the previous interpreter had been replaced for not representing the performer in the way she wanted. The previous interpreter’s relationships with others in the cast had been seen as detrimental to the professional image the actor was trying to cultivate. Several interpreters in this study regularly shared implicit information from conversations that occurred in the Deaf professional’s presence. For example, Charles, one of the interpreters in this study, was expected to relay his observations about the relationships of other individuals in the Deaf professional’s work place. For the psychologist with whom he worked, “The message is not as important as . . . . the relationships of the room . . . (11:10)” Charles recalls commonly attending meetings with her in which he made explicit his observations about the relationships of others. Charles worked with the psychologist “trying to . . . discover relationships (12:29)” of participants in the room. Hollie also regularly shared implicit information, such as informing the professional she worked with what another actor probably meant, based on his tone of voice. Or relaying, “The director said this (criticism) about this actor, so you might want to take note . . . it could apply to everybody (25:00).” For interpreters to be able to share the type of implicit information described, they must have a thorough understanding of the workplace context. This understanding comes naturally from working with the same individuals over the course of time. Stan, the Deaf administrator, admits, It’s good if Mallory has my understanding of the political relationships so she can feed me everything she hears. In any environment you have to know what is important and what is not important, what to listen to and what not to listen to, what is significant and what is not significant. Being here, she knows what is significant and passes it on. (17:04)

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Everyone develops relationships with the people with whom they work. For the designated interpreters and Deaf professionals in this study, they saw the facilitation and maintenance of the Deaf professionals’ relationships with others as an integral part of the interpreter’s job, whether it meant facilitating communication between the Deaf professionals and others, relaying to them what they overheard about others’ relationships, maintaining good relationships with others themselves, or making information found in tone of voice or suggestive statements more explicit. 4.2

Creating Seamlessness

An intimate understanding of the workplace context contributed to the ability of the interpreters in this study to facilitate and maintain relationships between Deaf professionals and others with whom they work. It likewise contributed to the ability of the interpreters to create seamlessness in their work with Deaf professionals. Seamlessness, defined here as facilitating interactions between the Deaf professional and others in the workplace that are smooth, as well as making the experience of working with an interpreter easy for the Deaf professional, was valued by both the interpreters and the Deaf professionals in this study. Seamlessness happens when Deaf professionals and interpreters work together over a long period of time and become intimately familiar with each other. The interpreters in this study were experts at what has been described as mind reading (Cook 2004; Hauser and Hauser 2008). They had worked with the Deaf professional long enough to be able to, as April, a Deaf academic in this study marveled, “predict what I will say next (21:58).” For Rose, one of April’s designated interpreters, seamlessness means the deaf professional can assume I already have the knowledge and can do less back loading and filling in of information, so reduce that amount of time they have to spend with the interpreter giving context and background and getting you prepped for an assignment . . . we become more plug and play, in a sense. (14:23) She elaborates further, “We can quickly and easily give each other cues and feedback and requests in the moment (8:55).” This is akin to the experience Charles has had as a designated interpreter. He described his experience with a Deaf professional with whom he worked, commenting, “We (the Deaf professionals and I) have the same mental scope, the same emotional scope (1:58).” By being able to “act as one (2:13)” with the Deaf professional and comprehend “the look (7:23)” from the Deaf professional indicating she wanted to take the floor, Charles was able to create seamlessness in interpreted interactions. Stan, a Deaf academic, noted,

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Seamlessness is created in the work environment when interpreters and Deaf professionals have a history of working with others together over time. Interpreters become better able to predict what the professionals they work with will say and what they need, minimizing the effort that can occur when working with an interpreter. 4.3

Meeting Unorthodox Expectations

Interpreters in this study described their experiences of meeting expectations of the Deaf professionals with whom they worked that would not be expected of a community or public service interpreter who maintained a role of neutrality. Expectations fell into two categories: expectations of sacrificing personal time when needed, and keeping the Deaf professional informed. Several interpreters in this study provided examples of giving up personal time for the job. Hollie has worked as a designated interpreter in a variety of settings, but the two most demanding were for an executive director of a Deaf services agency, and for a medical intern on residency. When working with the executive director, she was on call 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, went on trips with the director and had a difficult time finding a replacement when she needed breaks or wanted a vacation. Working with the resident also required that Hollie make herself available to interpret at any time of the day or night, and for very long hours, since those were the working hours of the resident. During a shift at the hospital, if there was an emergency, Hollie put aside her needs until the crisis had been resolved. The high demands of these jobs became exhausting. In the academic setting, Mallory experienced similar expectations. The expectation for her was to be “paid for 20 hours a week, but . . . be available for 40 (15:30).” Since her job was in an academic institution, she was expected to take vacations only during semester breaks. At one point, she had the opportunity to take an all expense paid vacation, but since it was during the academic year, she was not initially given permission to go: There was one time I asked to take time off to go on a cruise that was fully paid, flight, cruise, land, and they said, “No,” and I was devastated . . . So, I didn’t know how to handle it . . . Finally they let me go, but I think Stan said, “This should be the last time you ask to take off time during the academic year.” I was crushed. I didn’t know what to do. I thought, “I’ve disappointed them to no end.” It was horrible. (17:25)

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Although this expectation of her personal time was challenging, Mallory found the job rewarding enough to remain in the position. Likewise, Stan kept Mallory as his designated interpreter, but did not rehire another designated interpreter who took time off repeatedly during the academic year. Another, less extreme example comes from Charles who reports, As a designated interpreter, you negotiate when you’re allowed to leave their side. (9:05) Another common expectation of the designated interpreters in this study was that they would keep the Deaf professional informed about things they overheard or about conversations they had with others. Stan made it very explicit that he expected Mallory to keep him informed. She listens for me, too. She hears things, incidental things she picks up, she passes on. It’s not interpreting, but its valuable. She passes on information that other people hear, but I don’t hear. (9:02) He added, She knows that she cannot let me find out the hard way about something she knows that I should know about. It would affect our relationship. We wouldn’t be able to work together. (7:19) April, the other Deaf academic in this study, also discussed the importance of the interpreter keeping her informed. She learned everything from political issues being discussed among the faculty to how they felt about the new computer program being implemented university-wide. This information enabled her to make more appropriate decisions at the work place. The interpreters in this study revealed what they do to keep the Deaf professionals they work with informed. Charles, an interpreter in a large corporation, was often expected to attend high-stakes meetings, not to interpret the proceedings of the meeting, but to interpret everything else that occurred during the course of the meeting. For example, he has sat in a meeting near the professional, sending text messages about anything inadvertently omitted from the interpretation, reactions from others that may have been missed, or any inaccuracies in the interpretation. Based on the interviews in this study, Deaf professionals can have high expectations of the designated interpreters with whom they work in terms of time commitment and responsibility to keep the Deaf professional informed. These are not often expected of community or public service interpreters, nor would they be reasonable, given the nature and context of community

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and public service interpreting work. The high and unorthodox expectations described in this study are only made possible by a long-term, ongoing relationship between a designated interpreter and Deaf professional.

5. 5.1

Discussion Interpreters as Tools: A Utilitarian Approach

I have likened the Deaf professional’s work with a designated interpreter to the work of a chef using a favorite knife (Miner 2015). All the designated interpreters in this study were passionate about their work. As well, the Deaf professionals spoke about the work of designated interpreting with much appreciation for it, but with a slightly different flavor than that of the interpreters. Their comments were more like a chef who has a favorite knife that is used daily, a favorite knife that always does the job well. If the knife is missing for some reason, other knives can be used satisfactorily, but may not be as comfortable to use or may not do the job as well. For the Deaf professionals, the designated interpreters they work with are like a cook’s favorite knife. They do the job well, are usually on hand, make the job easy, and are comfortable to work with. Other interpreters can be used, but the regular designated interpreter will be missed. The interpreters’ perspective of their work suggested they viewed themselves as one of the ingredients in a superb dish being created, rather than just the tool being used to create it. This is not to say that interpreters are viewed as passive instruments, but rather viewed as smart technology (Hsieh and Kramer 2012). Both Deaf professionals and designated interpreters view interpreters as interactive collaborators in the work environment, but have a slightly different perspective. The difference is understandable; the Deaf professionals have a career to pursue, and the designated interpreter is just one part of their overall pursuit. However, for the designated interpreters, the career they are pursuing is, in its entirety, interpreting. In this case, it is within the context of their work with Deaf professionals. 5.2

Ethical Dilemmas

Some interpreters in this study expressed trepidation about the decisions they made, because they seemed in conflict with ethical codes of conduct. Mallory often worked with interpreting students who would come in to observe her work. She reports, Students would say things like, “Well, I thought we weren’t supposed to do X, Y and Z, but then you did it.” And I was like, well, I’m a staff person first, and I follow the university code, then I follow . . . the (RID)

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Code of Professional Conduct. So it’s kind of weird . . . who do you follow first? (2:32) She adds, I’ve always followed what my boss said, because they pay me, and I want to keep my job and I respect them, and the relationship is that they trust me . . . that I’ll do those kind of things. (3:01) In the United States, the RID dictates interpreter behavior through a published ethical code. The most recent code is known as the Code of Professional Conduct, published in 2005.8 This current version is a revision of the Code of Ethics that had been the guiding document since 1993 (Registry of Interpreters for the Deaf, Inc. 1993). A comparison of the documents reveals some interesting differences that may impact the perception of the work of designated interpreters. The earlier document, which was the guiding document for 12 years for many current interpreters who had entered the field, contains two tenets that have been removed from the current version. They are, “Interpreters/transliterators shall render the message faithfully, always conveying the content and sprit of the speaker using language most readily understood by the person(s) whom they serve,” and “Interpreters/transliterators shall not counsel, advise or interject personal opinions.” These two tenets, gone from the current Code of Professional Conduct (CPC), reflect a more conduit approach to interpreting than the current CPC. Even the tenet regarding confidentiality in the current code seems to allow for more interpreter judgment than in the past: “Interpreters adhere to standards of confidential communication” in the current code, compared to “Interpreters/ transliterators shall keep all assignment-related information strictly confidential.” The 1993 version of the Code of Ethics does not seem to allow for the type of work that designated interpreters do. Many examples found in the research on designated interpreters demonstrate that interpreters may not adhere to the 1993 published guidelines that instruct, “Interpreters/transliterators are not editors and must transmit everything that is said in exactly the same way it was intended” (p. 24), and “Just as interpreters/transliterators may not omit anything that is said, they may not add anything that is said, they may not add anything to the situation, even when they are asked to do so by other parties involved . . . (the interpreter) shall not become personally involved . . .” (p. 24). Although the field of interpreting is moving away from a conduit model, as reflected in the current CPC, the attachment to it still remains (Hsieh and Kramer 2012). Perhaps this is one reason that designated interpreters and others may question the decision making in work settings with designated interpreters and Deaf professionals.

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6.

Further Findings and Discussion

6.1

The Changing Role of the Interpreter: Beyond Designated Interpreting

One of the goals of this study was to compare the work of designated interpreters to that of other types of interpreting, exploring similarities and differences, with consideration of the changing role of the interpreter in general. The role of a classroom interpreter and a Deaf interpreter were explored. The work of these two types of interpreters was chosen because of characteristics of their work as discussed in the literature (Boudreault 2005; NCIEC Deaf Interpreter Work Group 2010; Smith 2013) that are common to the role of designated interpreters: these interpreters also use knowledge gained in the workplace about content and other participants to contribute to their effectiveness, are familiar with the goals of the Deaf individual as well as their communication style and preferences, and develop a level of rapport and trust over time that enhances their overall interpreting work. Similarities between these roles and that of the educational interpreter shed more light on the changing role of the interpreter in today’s world.

6.2

Classroom Interpreters

The classroom interpreter interviewed for this study had two years of full-time experience working with Deaf high school students and had the certification requirements to work in the educational setting in her state. Since only one classroom interpreter was interviewed, the ability to generalize these results are limited, yet, some similarities can be seen between the work of designated interpreters and classroom interpreters. Two features of the work of classroom interpreters are similar to the features that describe the role of the designated interpreters in this study. One is meeting high expectations that are not typical of a community or public service interpreter and the other is the facilitation of relationships between the Deaf student and others in the school as a priority. 6.2.1

Meeting Unorthodox Expectations

Recent research has demonstrated that classroom interpreters do much more than just interpret or transliterate. Smith (2013) found that educational interpreters must assess a myriad of factors occurring simultaneously at any given moment and make decisions about how to respond to them in order to optimize the Deaf student’s access to competing visual demands, and facilitate their learning. In order to do so, they seek, obtain and capitalize on available resources, interact with others in their environment (teachers, Deaf students, parents, hearing students), all while being helpful to others as a part of being an employee in a school setting. These expectations are high, but common for educational interpreters (Smith 2013). Matilda, the

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classroom interpreter in this study who works with some severely language delayed students, regularly does work other than interpreting. She explains, Some of the kids don’t really read and write at a grade level where they can participate in class, so we help them. I help them a lot with writing things. They’ll sign it when they’re in class where the focus isn’t on developing their English skills . . . like in math class, sometimes they have to write reflections (10:31) . . . We ask the teacher, “Do you want them to write it on their own and know that you’re going to get something (language) that is not intelligible? Or do you want them to sign it, and me to write it so you can evaluate their understanding? (11:18) In order to meet the educational goals for some of the students she worked with, Matilda had to be able to assess the student’s writing and cognitive abilities, determine what the teacher’s goals were for the assignment, create a possible solution and check in with the teacher about the decision. Techniques for meeting these expectations are not typically taught in interpreting programs, making the expectations for educational interpreters higher than and not typical of public service or community interpreting work. 6.2.2

Facilitating and Maintaining Relationships

In her study on the practice of educational interpreters, Smith (2013) revealed the importance of promoting the inclusion of Deaf children in the classroom. When Public Law 94–142 was passed in the United States, one of the goals was to educate children in their neighborhood schools in regular classrooms with their non-disabled peers, so that they would be included in social and learning activities with other children.9 Because of this goal of inclusion, facilitating relationships between Deaf students and others is a priority for Matilda. I try to talk to the hearing kids in there because if I don’t have some kind of relationship with the hearing kids, they aren’t going to talk to the Deaf kids. (18:13) The educational interpreters in Smith’s (2013) study had the same priority. Smith found that many of the decisions they made on a daily basis were made with the goal of promoting the inclusion of Deaf students in their classroom or school environment. Matilda also worked to have a good relationship with the teachers in the Deaf students’ classrooms. I think its very beneficial when you have good working relationships with the teachers because they are very willing to do what needs to be done to make things accessible for Deaf kids. (26:06)

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As an example, she discusses one particular teacher she and the other interpreters at the school had a good relationship with. This teacher worked to use only videos that were captioned, and was always willing to share lecture notes with the Deaf students a day or two before the lecture. Smith’s study (2013) supports the actions of this interpreter in developing a good working relationship with classroom teachers. There are countless stories of the importance of relationships to Deaf students. Charles, one of the designated interpreters in this study, shares a story of his Deaf son who was devastated when an educational interpreter consistently refused to interpret interactions between him and his classmates. In her book, Oliva (2004) writes of the loneliness she felt as a Deaf student throughout her school years, with no interpreter to facilitate her relationships with others. The argument can be made that relationships are just as important to Deaf students as they are to Deaf professionals. 6.2.3

Parallels to Designated Interpreting

There are several similarities between the work of educational interpreters and designated interpreters. Expectations in both environments go beyond just interpreting, because of the interpreters’ commitment to the goals of the Deaf students and the Deaf professionals. There are other similarities. The importance of facilitating relationships between Deaf individuals and others in their environment is a feature of both types of interpreting (Campbell et al. 2008; Smith 2013). In addition, interpreters in both settings needed to have good relationships themselves with others in the environment, such as with teachers or co-workers, in order to meet the Deaf person’s goals. The goal of keeping the Deaf person informed is another similar feature for interpreters in both settings. Stan was very clear with Mallory about his expectation of her to keep him informed. When working with Deaf students in a high school, Matilda says, If I hear someone talking about something on the other side of the room that I know the Deaf kid likes, I’ll be sure to interpret that . . . so they know who they can talk to. (21:41) Research on educational interpreting supports keeping Deaf students informed. It has demonstrated that Deaf students often miss incidental learning opportunities (Oliva 2013). As a result, educational interpreters are encouraged to make explicit the environmental information learned incidentally by children who hear. Another similarity between the roles and responsibilities of interpreters in both settings is the close relationship that can develop between Deaf individuals and their interpreters. Matilda described the close relationship she

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had with the students she worked with, saying the interpreters at school are the only people they (some of the Deaf students) can communicate with: I know we are the only interactions that they (two Deaf girls from Spanish speaking homes) have every day. (4:15) Designated interpreters may have specialized knowledge of the settings in which they work, which contributes to their effectiveness. Likewise, for Matilda to be effective in supporting the goals of Deaf students she worked with, she had to have specialized knowledge in the subjects of each of the Deaf students’ classes, from social studies to calculus. Finally, in both settings, the interpreters may be viewed as members of the Deaf person’s team. There are differences, however. Differences are found as a result of the status enjoyed by the Deaf individuals in each setting. The Deaf professionals in this study were adults in high-level positions. In contrast, Deaf students are minors in public school classrooms, and as a result, have lower status. As adults at work, there may be political relationships to manage, an image to uphold, and authority to maintain. Adults may also be more conscious of working with interpreters as a team to accomplish work goals seamlessly. Young Deaf students do not have the same experience, which may be a reason for some of the differences found in the work of educational interpreters when compared to the work of designated interpreters. Nonetheless, the similarities between the work of interpreters in both settings is encouraging as we move toward a more responsible and effective role for interpreters. 6.3

Deaf Interpreters

The Deaf interpreter interviewed for this study, Jack, was certified by the RID. During the course of the interview, it became apparent that his role as a Deaf interpreter was somewhat unique. He held a staff position at a center that served Deaf individuals in many capacities. The center provided interpreting services, social services, vocational rehabilitation counseling, various classes for the Deaf community, home for various sports leagues, and summer day camps for Deaf children. Although Jack did work with hearing interpreters to provide interpreting services off site, much of his work was done with Deaf individuals at the center. He also provided training for interpreters, both Deaf and hearing. 6.3.1

Meeting Unorthodox Expectations

One of the responsibilities of Jack’s job was to sit in on meetings with case managers from the center and the Deaf clients who they work with. The case manager may have been Deaf or hearing, but the clients were difficult for

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them to communicate with, for a variety of reasons (recent immigrants, etc.). Jack participated in these meetings in different ways. His role was unique. I do a lot of communication support because almost everyone in our center signs. CDI work doesn’t always have to be facilitation between hearing non-signers and Deaf people. (17:30) He added, Sometimes, regardless of whether the case manager I am interpreting for is Deaf or hearing, the communication isn’t clear with the Deaf client, not because of language, but because of cultural information. I provide the cultural communication support. (3:06) At first, the Deaf clients wondered why Jack was in their meetings. The case manager was the one who usually explained his role: But when I actually start working . . . that is when the Deaf clients really understand how helpful it is to have me there and they really like it. (32:21) The type of communication support he provided took many forms. He often provided extra information that was missing in an interaction, rephrased a message, or did whatever else was needed to meet the client’s communication needs. Jack provided some examples: Sometimes I just observe the conversation between the Deaf client and the professional and only offer suggestions for clarity when the conversation breaks down (4:41) . . . I don’t take over the conversation; they’ve got it . . . I can just offer another approach or suggest another example is used for clarity (5:04) . . . Sometimes I provide a frame by making a connection to the Deaf client’s prior experience, then let them take the conversation from there (5:28) . . . Sometimes the Deaf client will simply look at me for an explanation, and I’m ready to provide it (5:39) . . . And sometimes I do the same for the staff. If they didn’t catch what the Deaf client said, I clarify. So it goes both ways (5:51). We have Deaf clients who use ASL, and some who are immigrants from other countries. For both of these types of clients, it is expected that a CDI can facilitate communication, but some clients rely heavier on speech and lip reading, which throws some of the case managers off. I’ve found that I can facilitate communication with a whole range of clients. (4:01) Jack did more traditional interpreting work both at the center and out in the community with clients, but the previous examples highlight the unorthodox nature of his work.

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Facilitating and Maintaining Relationships

Jack worked with a variety of people every day: case managers and other center staff, hearing staff interpreters, and Deaf clients who come to the center for some type of assistance. Each of these types of relationships required nurturing. For Jack, this meant building trust, which takes time and a history of success in working together. With case managers, Jack felt that trust was built because he was able to use his skill of communicating ideas, but he relied on the professional’s knowledge of the services that could be provided. It’s an issue of trust. The case managers know I’m not trying to take over their jobs (8:53). They trust that I will do my best to provide the communication that is needed, then turn it back over to them . . . it’s an issue of trust. (9:31) It is also the foundation for his work with the hearing interpreters he works with. “With the other staff interpreters,” Jack explained, I might make a suggestion, and they are usually willing to try it because they realize that we are all there trying to do our best for the sake of the situation. They know I’m not trying to control the situation. We trust each other. (25:29) Jack is also highly trusted by the Deaf clients who come to the center. He stated that sometimes a Deaf client trusted him solely because another Deaf client had said, Oh, if you don’t understand what that letter you received means, take it to Jack. He’s great at explaining that kind of thing! (36:35) Jack felt privileged that they came to him and he already had their trust from the beginning. “Because I know that happens, I’m extra careful not to violate that trust.” Jack took on several roles in his job at the center. He explained that people came to the center for a variety of reasons, and that they came often because of the variety of events and services that were offered. As a result, Jack saw the Deaf clients he worked with in a variety of capacities. He was careful to maintain their trust in him. He explained, I try to be really clear with the Deaf clients about the separation of my roles. I let them know that what happens in a meeting doesn’t affect me. That makes them feel comfortable (33:06). I think it makes them more willing to work with me, because sometimes I do struggle to explain a concept, or understand what they mean. So they are more patient because they know I am willing to work for them. (33:26)

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As a staff interpreter who worked with the same people over a period of time, Jack valued the relationships he had with others at his workplace, regardless of their position. He saw trust as the basis for the maintenance of these relationships. 6.3.3

Creating Seamlessness

Because of Jack’s ongoing relationships with other interpreters, case managers and Deaf clients, they were able to create seamlessness in their work together. Jack describes it as a clear advantage: That is definitely one benefit of this job. I have worked with the same people for a long time. Even the clients are the same. So when they come in, we don’t have to take any time to explain the background or anything, we just get to it. We have a history together so we work well together. (10:15) Specifically regarding his work with the other interpreters, he said, Among us who have worked together often, we have developed a recognition for who can do what, and it is quicker (24:52). We understand each other’s roles, and I know each of their strengths and how to work with those (19:36) . . . There are some people who I work with often, like Becky, and all we have to do sometimes is look at each other and we know what to do. (25:17) Although this study focused on designated interpreters, similarities in roles and responsibilities were found among the interpreters who were not designated interpreters: an educational interpreter and a Deaf interpreter who worked as a staff interpreter. They, too, took an active role during interpreted interactions, and prioritized relationships. The common denominator among the work of all three types of interpreters interviewed for this study is the regularity of the interpreters’ work over time with others in the settings where they work and a deep understanding and commitment to the goals of the Deaf individuals.

7.

Conclusion

There were two goals of this study. The first goal was to explore the nature of the work and relationships of designated interpreters who work closely with Deaf professionals. The second goal was to explore the similarities between the work of designated interpreters and the work of two other types of interpreters: a classroom interpreter and a Deaf interpreter. The work of these two types of interpreters was chosen for because of similarities in their

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role to that of designated interpreters. These interpreters also use knowledge gained in the workplace about content and other participants to contribute to their effectiveness are familiar with the goals of the Deaf individual as well as their communication style and preferences, and develop a level of rapport and trust over time that enhances their overall interpreting work. Interviews with designated interpreters and Deaf professionals reveled several common themes that support previously published literature. These themes combine to create a profile for the work of designated interpreters and the Deaf professionals with whom they work that is described next. The 12 common features of this relationship are: 1. Subtle communication. It is sometimes called mind reading or prediction (Cook 2004; Hauser and Hauser 2008) but involves almost imperceptible cues that Deaf professionals and their designated interpreters get from each other that inform their work in the moment (Campbell et al. 2008; Napier et al. 2008; Rose, from this study). Both Charles and Jack in this study spoke of this subtle communication as simply a look that they received from others with whom they worked that clearly communicated information that was not apparent to anyone else in the setting. 2. Communication with each other about the work. Several of the interpreters in this study (Charles, Mallory, Rose and Jack) and both the Deaf professionals said they communicated about the work and expectations were made explicit. Other research (Cook 2004; Campbell et al. 2008; Hauser and Hauser 2008) has shown that this type of communication is nothing short of a requirement in the Deaf professionaldesignated interpreter paradigm. 3. Seamlessness. Facilitating interactions between the Deaf professional and others in the workplace that are smooth, as well as making the experience of working with an interpreter easy for the Deaf professional is mentioned repeatedly throughout the literature (Cook 2004; Hauser and Hauser 2008; Napier et al. 2008; Bristoll and Dickinson 2015) on interpreting for Deaf individuals in the workplace. From this study, Stan indicated seamlessness as a feature of Mallory’s work that was of value to him. 4. Authority. Issues of authority and who has what decision-making power may come up in the Deaf professional-designated interpreter relationship. These should be discussed openly when they emerge, with an attempt to resolve them (Cook 2004; Kurlander 2008; Gillespie and Wolfenden 2012). In this study, Mallory felt some conflict over which authority to follow in some of her decisions. The challenge occurs at the boundary of respect for the Deaf professionals’ authority and active participation that is required to do the job of a designated interpreter (Hauser and Hauser 2008). 5. Keeping the Deaf professional informed. Passing along information to the Deaf professional is a common expectation in the Deaf

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9.

10.

Annette Miner professional-designated interpreter relationship (Kale and Larson 1998; Cook 2004; Hauser and Hauser 2008; Gillespie and Wolfenden 2012; Llewellyn-Jones and Lee 2014). It can take various forms. Sometimes it means sharing information heard or learned when the Deaf professional was not present, which most interpreters in this study were expected to do and did regularly. Sometimes it means sharing gossip about others in the work environment or community (Cook 2004; Campbell et al. 2008; Goswell, Carmichael and Gollan 2008; Gillespie and Wolfenden 2012). From this study, Mallory reported the expectation of reporting on office gossip for Stan. April also expected it from her designated interpreters. A final aspect of keeping the Deaf professional informed includes providing extralinguistic information about tone of voice or sound of a person’s voice or speech (Kale and Larson 1998; Earhart and Hauser 2008; Goswell et al. 2008). Close relationship. Several interpreters in this study reported having a close relationship with the Deaf professionals they worked with (Mallory and Hollie). It can include sharing meals together, socializing at parties and other gatherings, and friendship outside of work (Cook 2004; Goswell et al. 2008; Gillespie and Wolfenden 2012). Specialized knowledge. In most settings where designated interpreters work, knowledge of specialized information is a must. Interpreters must understand the content information in the setting, as well as goals of the participants (Hauser et al. 2008). However, an understanding of social roles and relationships in the workplace is also necessary (Campbell et al. 2008; Jules Dickinson and Turner 2008; Kurlander 2008; LlewellynJones and Lee 2014). Both Stan and April, the Deaf professionals in this study, recognized the importance of interpreters understanding the social relationships in their settings. Interpreter commitment. In all examples of the Deaf professionaldesignated interpreter relationship, the interpreters demonstrated understanding of and commitment to the Deaf professionals’ goals (Cook 2004; P. C. Hauser et al. 2008). Interpreter commitment can also mean sacrificing personal time when needed (Cook 2004; Hauser and Hauser 2008; Gillespie and Wolfenden 2012). Hollie, Mallory, and Charles from this study were all expected to sacrifice their time in service of the job. Viewed as being unprofessional. Sometimes designated interpreters may be viewed as unprofessional or unethical by colleagues (Cook 2004) who do not understand the roles and responsibilities of designated interpreters. In this study, Mallory expressed her concerns with the way that others perceived her decision making. Neutrality is not a goal. In most examples of designated interpreting, neutrality is rarely a goal (Cook 2004; Earhart and Hauser 2008; Goswell et al. 2008; Hauser and Hauser 2008). Interpreters are actively involved participants during interpreted interactions, communicating

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with the Deaf professionals in a subtle or not so subtle fashion, sharing their perspectives, and providing input. Examples from this study are found from Rose, Mallory, Charles, and Hollie. 11. Members of the team. Often, interpreters are viewed as members of the Deaf professional’s team, either by the Deaf professional, by others in the work place, or both (Hauser and Hauser 2008; Gillespie and Wolfenden 2012). Several of the interpreters from this study considered themselves an integral part of the team, even to the point of acting as one with the Deaf professional (Charles). 12. Reflection of the Deaf professional. Finally, the designated interpreter is considered to be a reflection of the Deaf professional and contributes to the image of the Deaf professional by others (Kurlander 2008; Gillespie and Wolfenden 2012). Hollie and April from this study also mentioned that interpreters can be a representation of the Deaf professional with whom they work. The designated interpreters in this study performed essential duties that supported the overall goals of a) facilitating and maintaining relationships in the work place, b) creating seamlessness in their interpretations, and c) living up to unorthodox expectations, such as keeping Deaf professionals informed of gossip in the work place and sacrificing their personal time. However, it was not only designated interpreters who perform these specialized duties. Interviews with the classroom interpreter and the Deaf staff interpreter reveal a profile similar to that of the designated interpreter. Based on the interviews in this study and previously published research by Smith (2013) and the National Consortium of Interpreter Education Centers (2010), the work they do consists of the same 12 features described in the profile of designated interpreters. The educational interpreter and deaf interpreter working in a staff position performed duties similar to that of the designated interpreters. The common thread for each of these positions is an ongoing relationship with Deaf individuals over a period of time and commitment to the goals of the Deaf individuals. The work of these interpreters is indicative of the changing role and responsibilities of the interpreter. Or rather, they may be indicative of the change in perception of the role and responsibilities of the interpreter. As the interpreters in this study have demonstrated, interpreters are not neutral parties in interactions; they do affect other participants with whom they work (Wadensjö 1998; Metzger 1999; Roy 2000). Yet as several of the interpreters from this study shared, they sense the possibility that others will view their decisions as improper or unethical. As the perception and acceptance of the role of interpreters change, interpreters in all settings will be empowered to move from defensive interpreting (see Turner and Best, this volume) to delivering a high-quality standard of service.

Appendix A Categories for Coding Video Data

The following are categories that were used in coding interview data: Communication About the Job Deaf Professional’s Relationship with Others Expectations Facilitating Relationships Gender Handpicked Interpreter Mistrust Other Than Interpreting Political Relationships Reflection on the Deaf Professional Respect Role and Expectations Seamlessness Trust What the Job Is NOT Working as One Working Relationships

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Notes 1. https://tla.mpi.nl/tools/tla-tools/elan/ 2. National Association of the Deaf 3. Registry of Interpreters for the Deaf: Certificate of Interpretation and Certificate of Transliteration 4. Educational Interpreter Performance Assessment 5. Qualified Mental Health Interpreter 6. Qualified Mental Health Interpreter-Supervisor 7. Registry of Interpreters for the Deaf: Certified Deaf Interpreter 8. http://rid.org/ethics/code-of-professional-conduct/ 9. http://www2.ed.gov/policy/speced/leg/idea/history.html

References Barnard, H. Russell (1994) Research Methods in Anthropology: Qualitative and Quantitative Approaches (2nd ed.). Lanham, MD: AltaMira Press. Boudreault, Patrick (2005) Deaf interpreters. In T. Janzen (ed.) Topics in Signed Language Interpreting: Theory and Practice. Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 23–355. Bristoll, Simon and Dickinson, Jules (2015) Small talk, big results. Newsli 92(April): 6–13. Campbell, Linda, Rohan, Meg J. and Woodcock, Kathryn (2008) Academic and educational interpreting from the other side of the classroom: Working with deaf academics. In Peter C. Hauser, Karen L. Finch and Angela B. Hauser (eds.) Deaf Professionals and Designated Interpreters: A New Paradigm. Washington, DC: Gallaudet University Press, 81–105. Cook, Amy P. (2004) Neutrality? No thanks. Can a biased role be an ethical one? Journal of Interpretation 17: 57–74. Creswell, John W. (1998) Qualitative Inquiry and Research Design: Choosing Among Five Traditions. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications. Creswell, John W. (2002) Educational Research: Planning, Conducting, and Evaluating Quantitative and Qualitative Research. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Pearson Education. Dickinson, Jules and Turner, Graham H. (2008) Sign language interpreters and role conflict in the workplace. In Carmen V. Garces and Anne Martin (eds.) Crossing Borders in Community Interpreting: Definitions and Dilemmas. Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 231–244. Earhart, Angela D. and Hauser, Angela B. (2008) The other side of the curtain. In Peter C. Hauser, Karen L. Finch and Angela B. Hauser (eds.) Deaf Professionals and Designated Interpreters: A New Paradigm. Washington, DC: Gallaudet University Press, 143–164. Gillespie, Helen and Wolfenden, Caron (2012) I think you’re my client, but you think you’re my boss! In Jules Dickinson and Christopher Stone (eds.) Proceedings of the ASLI Conference 2010. Gloucestershire: Douglas McLean Publishig, 118–140. Goswell, Della, Carmichael, Andy and Gollan, Sofya (2008) Lights, camera . . . interpretation! In Peter C. Hauser, Karen L. Finch and Angela B. Hauser (eds.) Deaf Professionals and Designated Interpreters: A New Paradigm. Washington, DC: Gallaudet University Press, 196–209. Hauser, Angela B. and Hauser, Peter C. (2008) The deaf professional-designated interpreter model. In Peter C. Hauser, Karen L. Finch and Angela B. Hauser (eds.)

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Deaf Professionals and Designated Interpreters: A New Paradigm. Washington, DC: Gallaudet University Press, 3–21. Hauser, Peter C., Finch, Karen L. and Hauser, Angela B. (eds.) (2008) Deaf Professionals and Designated Interpreters: A New Paradigm. Washington, DC: Gallaudet University Press. Hsieh, Elaine and Kramer, Eric Mark (2012) Medical interpreters as tools: Dangers and challenges in the utilitarian approach to interpreters’ roles and functions. Patient Education and Counseling 89(1): 158–162. doi:10.1016/j. pec.2012.07.001 Kale, Allisun and Larson, Herbert W. (1998) The deaf professional and the interpreter: A dynamic duo. Paper Presented at the Post-Secondary Education for Persons Who Are Deaf and Hard of Hearing Conference, Knoxville, Tennessee. Kurlander, Kirstin Wolf (2008) Walking the fine line. In Peter C. Hauser, Karen L. Finch and Angela B. Hauser (eds.) Deaf Professionals and Designated Interpreters: A New Paradigm. Washington, DC: Gallaudet University Press, 106–126. Llewellyn-Jones, Peter and Lee, Robert G. (2014) Redefining the Role of the Community Interpreter: The Concept of Role-Space. Lincoln, UK: SLI Press. McCurdy, David W., Spradley, James P. and Shandy, Dianna J. (2005) The Cultural Experience: Ethnography in Complex Society (2nd ed.). Long Grove, IL: Waveland Press. Metzger, Melanie (1999) Sign Language Interpreting: Deconstructing the Myth of Neutrality. Washington, DC: Gallaudet University Press. Miner, Annette (2015) Designated interpreters: An examination of roles, relationships, and responsibilities. In Brenda Nicodemus and Keith Cagle (eds.) Signed Language Interpretation and Translation Research: Selected Papers From the First International Symposium. Washington, DC: Gallaudet University Press, 196–211. Napier, Jemina, Carmichael, Andy and Wiltshire, Andrew (2008) Look-pause-nod: A linguisitc case study of a deaf professional and interpreters working together. In Peter C. Hauser, Karen L. Finch and Angela B. Hauser (eds.) Deaf Professionals and Designated Interpreters. Washington, DC: Gallaudet University Press, 22–42. NCIEC Deaf Interpreter Work Team (2010) Toward Effective Practice: Competencies of the Deaf Interpreter. www.interpretereducation.org/wp-content/ uploads/2011/04/DC_Final_Final.pdf (accessed 30 December 2016). Oatman, Doney (2008) Designated interpreter-deaf chief executive officer: Professional interdependence. In Peter C. Hauser, Karen L. Finch and Angela B. Hauser (eds.) Deaf Professionals and Designated Interpreters: A New Paradigm. Washington, DC: Gallaudet University Press, 165–179. Oliva, Gina (2004) Alone in the Mainstream: A Deaf Woman Remembers Public School. Washington, DC: Gallaudet University Press. Oliva, Gina (2013) K-12: A call to arms for sign language interpreter training programs. Street Leverage, 10–15. www.streetleverage.com/2013/10/k-12-a-call-toarms-for-sign-language-interpreter-training-programs/ (accessed 30 December 2016). Registry of Interpreters for the Deaf Inc. (1993) The National Testing System Applicant Bulletin and Study Guide. Silver Spring, MD: RID Publications. Roy, Cynthia (2000) Interpreting as a Discourse Process. New York: Oxford University Press. Smith, Melissa (2013) More Than Meets the Eye: Revealing the Complexities of an Interpreted Education. Washington, DC: Gallaudet University Press.

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Stanton, John F. (2011) Breaking the sound barriers: How the Americans with Disabilities Act and technology have enabled deaf lawyers to succeed. Valparaiso University Law Review 45(3): 1185–1245. Stone, Christopher (2009) Toward a Deaf Translation Norm. Washington, DC: Gallaudet University Press. Wadensjö, Cecelia (1998) Interpreting as Interaction. New York: Addison Wesley Longman Limited. Weiss, Robert S. (1994) Learning From Strangers: The Art and Method of Qualitiative Interview Studies. New York: The Free Press.

5

On Motivational Ethical Norms From Defensive Interpreting to Effective Professional Practices Graham Turner and Brett Best

1.

Introduction

Debates over the changing—or perhaps we should more accurately say ‘inconsistent’—role of the interpreter have taken up many published pages and hours of discussion in conferences, workshops and committees around the world for several decades. Sometimes, we can find new momentum for advances by looking laterally to other spheres of professional practice for inspiration—and, at times, this inspiration takes an unexpected form. We will argue in the discussion presented next that the concept of ‘defensive medicine’ provides one such point of reference. We take this idea as a springboard from which we introduce a framework for understanding the maintenance of enculturated professional norms in interpreting (Roy 2002; Tate and Turner 2002). The decision to practice what we will describe, by analogy, as ‘defensive interpreting’—whether subconsciously ingrained as an automatic behaviour or deliberately taken—is ultimately designed to serve the best interest of the practitioner rather than the consumer. In formulating this concept, we intend to enable a latent idea implied in the literature (Tate and Turner 2002; Llewellyn-Jones and Lee 2013; Dean 2014) to crystallise and become easily recognisable, facilitating the ability to identify certain decisions and navigate interpreter choices for action. Giving shape and name to the notion through our critique, we seek to lay the foundation necessary for the contrasting proposal of expository interpreting with a view to promoting informed, effective interpreted interactions. Our chapter is structured in the following way. First, we contextualise our account by situating the focus of our paper. We primarily consider sign language interpreters who typically work in dialogic settings, often centred in public service and community-based situations. This type of interpreting is set against a broader background within the history of Interpreting Studies (IS). We conclude this background section by suggesting a novel, alternative schema for conceptualisations of professionalism and corresponding interpreter decision making which we call a professional stance. We then introduce the rudiments of ‘defensive medicine,’ the underlying notion which provides the core of the chapter’s analogical thrust, before making explicit

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and elucidating our account of the application of the concept in this new, non-medical context. We posit that interpreters may take a defensive or, in contrast, an expository professional stance. In section 3, this expository stance is proposed as a framework that opens up the possibility of the interpreter engaging more collaboratively with other participants. It is important to note that the fundament behind expository interpreting is explored in other places, and this chapter is not intended to serve as a detailed deconstruction of expository interpreting (see Dickinson and Turner 2008; Turner and Merrison 2016). Rather, our objective is to highlight the proposed contrast between defensive and expository interpreting and how awareness of this distinction may lead to reflection on current practices and concepts. Considering that defensive practices may be subconsciously ingrained in doctors (Terry 2010), we point to research which suggests the same may apply to interpreters, and we argue that awareness facilitates a practitioner’s ability to consciously make decisions regarding their professional stance. To critique certain professional principles, as we clearly set out to do, implies the ability to present more desirable alternatives, and this we seek to achieve in the following sections of the paper. We draw out the implications for both theory and practice, before indicating some potential avenues for associated further study and presenting our conclusions.

2.

Background

As a discipline, IS has developed rapidly in the last quarter of the twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. Whilst psychologically and cognitively oriented studies of memory and processing have remained prominent throughout, in the 1970s, researchers began (cf. Werner and Campbell 1970; Brislin 1976; Anderson 1978) to show a more socially sensitive perspective, reflecting upon issues such as the interpersonal role of the interpreter. It is perhaps not entirely coincidental that the moment when IS emerged from the shadows as a more independent discipline almost parallels the period when interpreting in settings outside the conference booth started to become more prominent as a research topic. The early 1990s mark the emergence of the term ‘Interpreting Studies’ (Salevsky 1993) to name and give a distinct identity to the field. The late twentieth century had seen an explosion of ideas which encouraged Translation Studies as a whole to build away from prescriptive theorising about equivalence and towards description of practices and outcomes. IS could be seen to be playing a leading role in conceptual and methodological innovation (Olohan 2000; Shlesinger 2004; Monacelli 2005) and in bringing theoreticians and practitioners closer together (Turner and Harrington 2000; Shlesinger 2009). Developments during this period included some radical rethinking about the active, decision-making role of the interpreter, and the consequences her choices may have on interactional outcomes. Research of the kind undertaken by Cynthia Roy (1989), Susan Berk-Seligson (1990) and Cecilia Wadensjö (1992) instigated a new

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wave of analyses. Other authors working on spoken language interpreting (e.g. Angelelli 2004; Pöllabauer 2004; Inghilleri 2006; Jacobsen 2008) have sought to extend this work, looking to account for and theorise social processes and effects, with emphasis on descriptive and theoretical points of departure. Franz Pöchhacker (2004) uses the label ‘dialogue interpreting’ (DI) to characterise the focus of these studies. Sign language interpreting (SLI) research has had its own trajectory. Early studies in both the United States (Brasel, Montanelli and Quigley 1974) and the United Kingdom (Llewellyn-Jones, Kyle and Woll 1979) turned to sign language interpreters and Deaf people to rate the significance of component skills and abilities thought to be necessary for effective performance, with ‘accuracy in transmission of concepts’ at the forefront of respondents’ demands in both studies. In present-day terms (given the problematisation of ‘accuracy’ as a target for translators and interpreters—e.g. Hatim and Mason 1997), this outcome seems of little real value per se, but an important platform was being set in attempting to create an evidence base for exploring the work of the sign language interpreter. A battery of further studies in the United States attempted to arrive at judgments of various kinds about the quality or ‘successfulness’ of Sign Language interpreters’ output (Murphy 1976; Murphy and Fleischer 1977; Hurwitz 1980; Rudner, Getson and Dirst 1981). The SLI trajectory was also different from spoken language interpreting in that SLI has never typically been viewed as taking place in conference settings, although Turner (2007a) presents some evidence to show that a significant proportion of these interpreters’ work does, in fact, occur at conferences. Furthermore, the inevitable high visibility of the sign language interpreter, whose presence—since she must be seen—cannot be backgrounded, seems rapidly to have drawn attention away from investigation of the interpreter’s cognitive performance and on to her linguistic output and social relations with interactional participants. Hence early work attempted to explore topics such as sign language interpreter fatigue (Brasel 1976) and the optimisation of lag-time (Llewellyn-Jones 1981). Whilst there has continued to be a proportion of work devoted to cognitive processing forms of enquiry, rooted in psycholinguistics (e.g. Ingram 1988; Isham and Lane 1993), the overall level of such research had nevertheless declined to a tiny 2% of output by the end of the 1970–2005 period (Grbić 2007: 33). Error analyses, critiqued by Mason (2001), which relied upon assumptions about analysts’ abilities to know when an interpretation was ‘accurate’, and therefore to critique interpreters for ‘getting it wrong’, were still evident in the literature on SLI toward the century’s end (e.g. Cokely 1985, 1992). Most contemporary studies of SLI are, however, less focused on cognitive processing issues and attempts to examine and model the mental mechanics of the interpreting process than they were in previous decades. In particular, as researchers explored the features of interpreting in particular social settings and the reasons for differentiation in the modi operandi between settings, attention turned away from the identification of ‘errors’ and towards

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exploring, through diverse lenses, the reasons for the choices practitioners may more or less consciously be making (Dean and Pollard 2001; Napier 2002; Turner 2006a). Current analyses are much more likely to address the power (im-)balance between Deaf and hearing people, for example, and the consequent issues of role, positioning and ethics that have coloured the formation of the SLI profession (see overviews in Turner 2006b; Napier and Leeson 2015). As noted earlier, Roy (1989) was an early pioneer of the more interactional frame of analysis in IS, and perhaps through the influence of Roy’s research, in particular, the SLI field in general has been a relatively early adopter of notions about co-construction and triadic models of interpreting (Turner 1995). Throughout the subsequent development of DI and its application to the field of sign language, a recurring theme has been where to locate the boundaries of interpreters’ responsibilities and how, thereby, to secure their professionalism (Pollitt 1997; Grbić 2010). In some contexts, the outcome for practitioners has entailed adopting a highly circumscribed and self-limiting set of practices which may arise as a reactive response to a perceived lack of clarity in professional guidelines, or as a proactive choice reflecting a conscious strategy considered to be the ethical position derived from a code of conduct, or as some mixture of the two. Some research suggests that such responses may be driven by an educational and professional enculturation of interpreters into a certain understanding of professionalism (Tate and Turner 2002; Hsieh 2006; Dean 2014). Whereas discussion and research in the interpreting profession has sought to understand professionalism and corresponding decision-making processes of interpreters based on notions of interpreter role (Roy 2002; Janzen and Korpinski 2005; Nicodemus, Swabey and Witter-Merithew 2011), role space (Llewellyn-Jones and Lee 2013) or moral reasoning patterns (Dean 2015), we suggest an alternative schema of professional stance. In what follows, we aim to describe and account for this professional stance—which we will characterise as ‘defensive interpreting’ or its alternate, ‘expository interpreting’—and explore relevant implications for theory and practice.

3.

Defensive Medicine

Like the medical profession, interpreting is a practice profession where effective work relies on conscientious judgement encompassing situational factors and the intricacies of human interaction (Dean and Pollard 2005, 2013). A phenomenon that has been identified among doctors in the medical field is defensive medicine, and Turner (2007b) has argued that several parallels could be drawn to observations of practice in the interpreting profession. Defensive medicine is defined as medical practices or actions which are designed to avert the future possibility of malpractice suits or avoid liability. Crucially, the driving motivation for a doctor deciding to

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take these actions or engage in these practices is to prevent possible future legal repercussions and with highest regard for the appearance of their own professional countenance. This motivation is in contrast to the prioritisation of a patient’s best interest and a primary motivation to improve health outcomes for the patient. Defensive medicine, in short, can be seen to operate from a paramount concern of shielding health care providers from lawsuits rather than achieving the best health outcomes for patients. Furthermore, practicing defensive medicine increases the cost of health care—82% of physicians order more tests and procedures than are medically necessary (Segal 2012)–and may expose patients to unnecessary risks (Sekhar and Vyas 2013). Doctors who order too many computerised tomography scans can expose a patient to genuinely dangerous doses of radiation. Likewise, ordering a biopsy can expose a vulnerable patient to an adverse reaction. And ignoring unusual details of a specific set of symptoms because 99.9% of similar circumstances all lead to one common outcome may result in the unnecessary death of 0.1% of patients. The American Academy of Orthopaedic Surgeons makes a distinction between different types of defensive medicine practices and explains that: “When physicians do extra tests or procedures primarily to reduce malpractice liability, they are practicing positive defensive medicine. When they avoid certain patients or procedures, they are practicing negative defensive medicine” (Manner 2007). Notice here that extra tests or procedures are not necessarily presented as improper. We therefore contend that it is sometimes entirely appropriate to disambiguate in cases of uncertainty (and, indeed, this applies equally whether we are dealing with ambiguity of sense or of sensation). The critical divergence from appropriate disambiguation to defensive practices lies in a prioritisation of professional self-interest above patient outcomes. The basis of the parallel that we draw to interpreting is most closely aligned to the concept of negative defensive medicine (Manner 2007), as can be seen in the following definition of defensive medicine that we draw upon offered by Lawson (2000: 13): The principle of defensive medicine is to do all that should be expected of you to help a patient as long as it does not put one’s own career at risk . . . Could you [the patient] be harmed by it? Yes. In economic terms, the ‘opportunity cost’ of a doctor not doing something to you in order to cover themselves might be more pain or inconvenience, or it might just conceivably be your life . . . You [a doctor] cannot be accused of negligence if you do nothing when nothing is the average and accepted practice. Try to help and you had better be sure it works. While self-serving intentions may operate as the original stimulus behind certain defensive practices, the perpetuation of such practices may become

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unconscious among practitioners. Manner (2007) explains, “Some medical practices become so routine that physicians are unaware that liability concerns originally motivated their use”. Terry (2010: 2) quotes a general surgeon as reporting: “Defensive medicine . . . is so ingrained that most of us don’t even realize we are doing it”. 3.1

Defensiveness in Interpreting

The practitioner is delivering defensive interpreting if she chooses what she alleges is the ‘automatic’ or ‘necessary’ route: since interpreting is a human decision-making process which deals, at all times, in contingencies, there simply cannot be such a thing as an ‘automatic’ response. She may seek to avoid blame; to be disengaged or invisible; to avoid risky, high-profile, transcribed, archived, life-and-death assignments or those with ‘awkward’ clients. These descriptions elucidate a certain stance and offer a particular, challenging perspective on interpreter professionalism. We have found only one other parallel that has been drawn between the principles of defensive medicine and observations in the interpreting field. Dean (2014) discussed how focusing on ethical dilemmas may lead to maintaining mandatory minimal, normative standards which may in turn hinder the development of greater ethical awareness to foster ethical practice among sign language interpreters. She draws on Hill’s (2004) assertion about the field of counselling and highlights Hill’s (2004: 140) claim that focusing on maintaining minimal standards leads to professionals practicing defensively, and “perhaps so defensively that they might limit their behaviour more severely than necessary and thus fail to serve their clients’ best interests”. Dean (2014: 62) cites Hill (2004) when she calls this approach “a type of defensive medicine”. Here we see that, like the definitions of defensive medicine given earlier, self-imposed limitations on the part of practitioners may result in potentially detrimental consequences to the consumer. Dean’s (2014) brief reference to defensive practices as applicable to observations in the interpreting field serves as a description of a perceived recurring phenomenon of practitioners adhering, as a form of intended professional ‘self-preservation’, to a set of self-limiting approaches to professionalism. Turner (2007b) pinpoints this defensive posture as the principal stance that is behind an interpreter’s decision to adhere to such a circumscribed set of practices. Defensive interpreting can be seen to be at work in certain defensive behaviours, but crucially, the concept also points to the underlying viewpoint from which the behaviour originated. This defensive stance is based on what is essentially a ‘me-first’ type of professionalism—decisions are made according to what the practitioner deems will be most in her own favour—which has deeper implications beyond the maintenance of self-limiting standards. Dean’s (2014) referral to defensiveness is a useful jumping off point to begin to explore some illustrative examples of defensive interpreting.

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3.2

Defensiveness in Practice

Dean’s (2014) comparison of certain types of interpreter behaviour to the delivery of defensiveness in medical contexts arises from a different standpoint, but is fundamentally reinforcing a similar form of critique. This perspective is drawn from the viewpoint of moral reasoning and from what Dean (2014: 65) identifies as the maintenance of the following messages which—despite extensive critique (Turner 1995; Wadensjö 1998; Turner and Harrington 2000; Napier 2003; Angelelli 2004; Janzen and Shaffer 2008; etc.)—have prevailed in interpreter education for over 15 years: the interpreter should only interpret; anything outside the remit of message transfer is not the job of the interpreter, and targeted, deliberate action that is not specifically directed towards conveying messages between primary participants should only be taken by an interpreter if something is directly impacting on their ability to do their job. Dean (2014: 65) cites Kahneman (2011) when she labels these three recurring themes in interpreter enculturation as “normative messages . . . quite influential in affecting behavior”. Explaining the power of these normative messages, Dean (2014: 70) states, If an interpreter, accurately interpreting a situation, decided that taking action outside of a message transfer was ethically sound (moral judgment), she may fail to take that action since it deviates from the normative message. Maintaining the norm would conflict with the decision she determined to be ethical in that given context and to follow through would be risky. We contend that the aforementioned situation can revealingly be described as defensive interpreting. Not simply because the decision was made to maintain the prevailing normative message but rather because the intent behind the decision was based on the stance of self-preservation and the level of perceived personal risk to the interpreter. Moreover, in the aforementioned example, this perceived personal risk trumped the apparently ethically sound judgment that may arguably have been in the better interest of the consumer. Essentially, the interpreter’s perceived best interests ostensibly served as the impetus behind the resulting decision. There are several ways in which this self-oriented locus of action may be described. Turner’s (2007b) original definition of defensive interpreting summarises it as “interpreting where you keep your head down”—i.e. the interpreter seeks to disengage and not to be noticed (cf. discussions of interpreter invisibility in Angelelli 2004 and elsewhere). This notion of interpreter disengagement as a defensive behaviour arguably ties into the persistence of the conduit role metaphor (Roy 2002; Hsieh 2006) and passivity, as well as the three types of normative messages and their maintenance described by Dean (2014, 2015). In fact, Hsieh (2006: 729) cites one spoken language interpreter explaining a strategy he used to oblige primary participants to

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align with his conduit expectations: he literally kept his head down: ‘‘You look down and you just [looking down]. I am not here. Sometimes, you go down [looking down], he looks at you and your ear, one time, two times, and he turns around and he looks at the patient”. By averting his gaze in this way, he forced interlocutors to look at each other instead of him. Insofar as the decision taken by an interpreter to engage in these behaviours originated from a stance of seeking to prioritise their own best interests, such conduit-like descriptions of maintaining norms would constitute the manifestation of defensive interpreting. Some research would appear to support the persistence of the idea that professionalism in interpreting requires adherence to the conduit model driven by a defensive stance on the part of the practitioner. Lawson’s (2000) definition of defensive medicine references the preservation of one’s career as an incentive to practice defensive medicine. In the same way, a study by Hsieh (2008: 1370–1371) on how interpreters view their roles in health care settings found that the conduit model is, “by far, the role that was identified most explicitly and frequently by interpreters, with one participant explaining that ‘if you want to keep your job’, you want to become—really, a kind of robot” (our emphasis). This statement affirms a conscious decision to practice defensive interpreting in order to align with a perceived professional expectation. The practitioner expects to benefit by falling into line with what she takes to be the accepted terms of engagement in her field and, therefore, to achieve the resulting preservation of her job. Defensive interpreting, however, runs deeper than the maintenance of conduit approaches to professionalism (not least since acting as a conduit may be the progressive, non-defensive choice to make in certain situations—see Pollitt 2000). The earlier examples also illustrate that, in some ways, defensive interpreting manifests a very particular form of observer’s paradox. An interpreter may or may not, depending upon the situation and the individuals present, choose to practice defensive interpreting. The work of interpreters is, of course, designed to be seen or heard by an audience—its value to that audience is, in effect, its primary raison d’être. But the defensive interpreter, like the defensive doctor, experiences a specific form of anxiety brought about by the fact of being observed. Terry (2010) reports that many doctors choose to practice defensive medicine due to a pressure felt from both colleagues and patients. This pressure arises from a culture of defensive medicine. When practicing in such a culture, those present during the time a medical decision is made or those who will have knowledge of the decision or, for our purposes, those present at an interpreted interaction, become the observers, and the awareness that the observers may be passing judgment on the decisions of the professional may have an effect on what decisions that professional subsequently makes. This is substantiated in research with spoken language interpreters which found that the perceived expectations of interlocutors do influence how interpreters mediate communication (Hsieh 2006). The decisions made by an interpreter, therefore, may depend

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heavily on the observers or participant observers present and perhaps what the interpreter perceives to be in her own best interest to elicit a favourable evaluation (for further discussion, see Turner 2000b). Furthermore, the basis for what a practitioner believes will elicit a favourable evaluation may depend heavily on the norms of the professional culture. Terry (2010) mentions a culture of defensive medicine, and both Dean (2014) and Turner (2007b) indicate that such a defensive culture may also exist within the SLI profession. This professional culture has risen from an educational process in which interpreters are enculturated into a prescribed understanding of professionalism (Tate and Turner 2002; Hsieh 2008; Dean 2014). In order to encourage decision-making processes that are not made from what could be understood as a defensive stance, Tate and Turner (2002: 381- emphasis in original) state, “[I]t is not so much the Code which should change . . . so much as the professional culture which it is designed to reflect and engender”. Defensive medicine is not a phenomenon that always leads to observable outcomes. The reason for this is that a common result of defensive thinking is that the proposed medical procedure simply does not take place at all—or, if it does, the defensively minded doctor is nowhere to be seen. So while defensive practices may stem from a particular form of observer’s paradox, it may also be the case that the practitioner makes decisions which increase the likelihood that her actions are not observed at all. Thus another way for the defensive interpreter to keep her head down—and a manifestation of defensiveness that is removed from any notion of role metaphor or norm maintenance—is straightforwardly to reject assignments that will put her under the spotlight or lead to opportunities for her work to be called into question by knowledgeable observers. In the United Kingdom, for example, sign language interpreters have been able to earn handsome rewards and a degree of public acclaim from undertaking assignments in the theatre. Although theatre interpreting is a challenging task when done conscientiously (see Gebron 1996; Turner and Pollitt 2002; Horwitz 2014), theatre interpreted into sign language is often not well marketed to the relevant community. The result is frequently a Deaf audience of negligible size. One nationally significant theatrical institution, working across several venues in a major UK city, informed us that they have no idea how many Deaf people attend interpreted performances, but they retain ten sign language interpreters on their books and provide regular work for them. Hence in many places in the United Kingdom, a defensive interpreter could accept work such as this that appears to be ‘high profile’ and they would not look as if they were ‘hiding’ from their target audience. Given the typically low numbers of Deaf attendees, an interpreter working in this domain is actually quite safe in the knowledge that their performance is unlikely to be scrutinised or criticised by an informed audience. While a defensive interpreter may choose certain domains to work in, she might also directly reject some assignments. When considering the contexts in which a defensive interpreter might choose not

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to work, anything that is to be recorded might appear high up on the list (Turner 2000b). This might especially be the case with SLI where the necessary visibility of the interpreter makes them immediately recognizable. There is an obvious prospect that recorded work may well be viewable not only by those physically present, but potentially by many others. An interpreter who shuns the undeniable evidence gathered by recording equipment is putting up a defensive barrier around her presumed professionalism in a similar way to doctors who avoid certain scenarios because of perceived risk that an unsuccessful procedure would bring to their professional credibility.

4.

An Alternative to Defensiveness

As the converse or counterpoint to defensive interpreting, Turner (2007b) also coins the term ‘expository interpreting’. The spirit of such interpreting is captured by key words such as ‘self-revealing, on display, open to critique’ and, above all, open to collaboration with interlocutors (Turner 2007b). The main guiding principles of expository interpreting are transparency and cooperation, grounded in the selfless de-prioritisation of the interpreter’s immediate interests with an orientation not towards self-preservation, but to a broader and fundamentally more inclusive frame of reference. In essence, this approach derives from a specific construal of the notion of professionalism which we believe is rooted in the concept of “institutionalised altruism” (Merton and Gieryn 1982: 118). Whilst the sociology of work has long pored over definitions of professionalism (Klegon 1978; Hoyle 1980; Crompton 1990; Davies 1996; Evetts 2013; Macdonald 2015), we find institutionalised altruism to be a powerful theme because it suggests that what defines the professional is her adoption of a selfless ethical code in return, in effect, for considerations of status and reward. Turner (2000a: 40) suggested a modification of the concept of institutionalised altruism which aims: To talk instead of ‘institutionalised responsibility’. For it seems to me that ‘altruism’ does not truly capture the breadth of the true professional’s commitment to the communal goals of her endeavour; nor does it seem to match what I believe to be a genuine desire to advance social aims as expressed by so many [sign language] interpreters. ‘Institutionalised responsibility’ would cover responsibility (a) to service users, both Deaf and hearing, (b) to the profession, i.e. to colleagues present and future, (c) to the job, i.e. to the integrity of the task, (d) to oneself and (e) to the citizens of the wider society. Expository interpreting arises from such soil, and it is therefore predicated upon contextualisation of the act of interpreting—at least in the community or public service situations that are typical of most dialogue interpreting—as a social or communal ‘good’: a very different proposition

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than the delivery of interpreting as a bloodless commercial transaction or a crude income-generating proposition. In expository interpreting, the best interests of the client are prioritised. It is instructive to ask whether expository and defensive interpreting stand in a truly obverse relationship. Would it, perhaps, be possible for an interpreter to behave with great transparency, inviting input from primary participants on decisions about meaning and exegesis, but to do so motivated by the desire for self-preservation or by a refusal to take responsibility for communicative decisions—and yet to claim that this were to provide a service of an expository character? We contend that this could not, by definition, be the case. In other words, just like its defensive counterpart, expository interpreting is also fundamentally about the practitioner’s stance or orientation towards professional service provision: in this case, a stance of knowingly co-constructive openness between the interpreter and the primary participants. Expository interpreting entails taking the initiative to discern meaning, and to deliver its significance sufficiently, drawing upon everything one knows about everything; and, at the same time, being willing to open one’s decision making to others’ scrutiny when one believes, in good faith, that it is in her interests that one should do so. To interpret in an expository fashion means that, when necessary, the interpreter will expose her thinking and uncertainty, because language is not mechanical or driven by mathematical formulae. For this reason, expository interpreting arises from a certain professional stance, of the rationale or justification for a line of action. We have developed elsewhere (Turner 1995, 2005, 2007c; Turner and Merrison 2016; Best and Michaels 2016) descriptively derived accounts of the linguistic and interactional behaviours that have been called ‘quantum’ interpreting (Turner 2007c), whereby the practice of meaning-making is understood as a profoundly and, indeed, necessarily collaborative process. Being expository is about the underlying stance that constructively gives rise to such behaviours (as noted at the end of section 2.2, we are making an explicit distinction between these notions). An expository stance is integral to professional practice because it lies at the heart of professionalism. Evetts (2013: 780) explains that through processes of professionalization “[L]ay people must place their trust in professional workers . . . Professionalism requires professionals to be worthy of that trust, to put clients first”. This remit to put clients first and do right by them is the essence of expository interpreting. It is also the crux of an argument by Bell (2014: 5) that the concept of fiduciary duty applies to sign language interpreters. He explains that in a fiduciary relationship, “one person justifiably reposes confidence, good faith, reliance and trust in another whose help, advice or protection is sought in something that the client cannot do themselves . . . the moral imperative requires the fiduciary to act at all times for the . . . benefit and interests of the principals” and the fiduciary “must not put their personal interests before the duty”. Defensive practices, on the other hand, subvert the principal’s best interest with those of the

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practitioner’s and may, therefore, be potentially detrimental to the patient or consumers of interpreting services (Definition 2014; Lawson 2000; Turner 2007b). If, then, interpreters do have a fiduciary duty toward their consumers (Bell 2014), then they have a moral obligation to make a conscious effort to guard against self-serving defensive interpreting practices. Bell’s (2014) fiduciary duty of interpreters is akin to Turner’s (2000a) concept of institutionalised responsibility. The shared principles of these notions can be neatly summed up in a general stance on professionalism, and the ease with which this stance may be understood may have implications for not only theory but practice as well. 4.1

Implications for Theory

There are several theories in the literature that attempt to explain interpreter professionalism and fundamental orientations of professional behaviour. At the crux of professionalism is the ability of an individual practitioner to make and execute decisions based on her professional judgment in a given situation. Although such decisions are not based on a formula—if they were, machine interpretation would be readily available—they can be navigated with the help of guiding principles. These principles and the resulting delineation of interpreter boundaries have been conceptualised for students and practitioners in various guises throughout the development of the profession. Defensive and expository interpreting, however, focus not on the role of the interpreter or the cognitive processes whereby an interpreter arrives at a decision but rather the stance the practitioner takes in their overall professionalism and the relation of this stance to the fidelity with which they carry out their responsibility to act in the clients’ best interest. These concepts reinforce that the professional judgment exercised stems from professional duty rather than professional self-interest. What do we learn, then—given that a theory may be understood as a model or system, constructed from interrelated ideas, concepts, definitions and propositions, that explains or predicts something, or underpins the practice of an activity, based on general principles—about the theory of interpreting by evoking the concept of ‘defensiveness’? Our contention is that interpreting has historically been understood as a mysterious, impenetrable exercise conducted inside the ‘black box’ of the practitioner’s head. Words enter the box, the cogs whirr invisibly, and utterances emerge: but the decisions upon which these utterances are predicated are in no way transparent or open to scrutiny. The result has largely been a set of professional practices which have been closed to the outside world. In theory, this decision making has been left to the discretion of the individual practitioner, and models of interpreting processes (and of the communicative actions that are made possible by the provision of interpreting services) have been based on this presumption of autonomy. A description of the prototypical interpreting system has therefore largely expected contributions from each

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participant that depend upon such a configuration (i.e. one that expects the interpreter’s decisions to reside within the impervious boundaries of the interpreter’s head). We have argued, however, that modelling interpreting in the light of assumptions of this kind corresponds to the assumption of a stance we have described as ‘defensive’. Defensive interpreting would be justified if one accepted a theoretical framework that denied the interpreter’s human responsibility for linguistic decisions—i.e. decisions drawing upon a situated, embodied reading of primary participants’ intentions and construals. Such a theory would account for the interpreter as a kind of neutral language processor, merely responding automatically to linguistic stimuli, deserving neither blame nor credit for the outcomes of interaction, and socially inconsequential, hermetically sealed away from the messy business of the human-to-human struggle for a sense of mutual understanding. If interpreting could accurately be described in this way, then any practitioner would indeed, at any time, be legitimately able to say “it wasn’t me: the words did it”. And that is, in essence, what the defensive interpreter—the practitioner taking up a defensive stance—does say to the world. She wants to retreat into the black box and project an invulnerable, untouchable image. We are arguing that recognising this defensiveness for what it is, and identifying in theoretical terms both its underlying provenance and its predictable consequences, creates space for an alternative theoretical formulation. This alternative theorises interpreting as an inherently, irreducibly social phenomenon and one in which the black box is not impregnable: interpreting decisions can constructively be laid out—even as interaction progresses in many contexts—for open consideration. To do so is both to represent a different stance, motivated by different theoretical positioning, and to render possible different interactional repercussions, in such a way as to change both what is possible as a mode of progression within interpreted encounters and, therefore, what is to be accounted for by interpreting theory. 4.2

Implications for Practice

The concepts of defensive and expository interpreting have implications for practitioners and educators. The usefulness of coining labels for the two contrasting stances is that it helps bring them into the forefront of one’s consciousness by making potentially latent concepts easily recognisable and thus enhances awareness about practices and decision-making processes which may otherwise remain unnoticed. When certain phenomena and practices can be explained and named, they can then be identified and addressed, providing a new lens through which to view the foundations upon which situational decision-making processes are built. Rather than defining or prescribing specific roles, linguistic choices or communicative and interactional behaviours, the twin notions of defensive and expository interpreting offer a framework through which to review the overall stance the interpreter may take in their professional practice so that the cynosure

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of decision making becomes a client’s best interest. Viewing professional decisions through this lens may also begin to shift what could arguably be considered to be a defensive culture in the interpreting profession stemming from enculturated norms in the educational process (Tate and Turner 2002; Turner 2007b; Hsieh 2008; Dean 2014). If interpreters do go through significant enculturation about adherence to expected prescribed behaviours, then it may also be the case that they routinely practice defensive interpreting without realising it. This type of limiting behaviour increases the probability of mentally bypassing potentially efficacious options in many situations. An alternative modus operandi based on a stance of consumer best interest may illuminate some of those choices available to a practitioner which might otherwise go unconsidered. Quinn (2013) argues that within the medical profession, a cultural shift is necessary to mitigate the prevalence of the practice of defensive medicine. In the same way, efforts toward a cultural shift may enable the interpreting profession to mature beyond defensive practices as well. Interestingly, a tactic Quinn (2013) advocates for challenging the defensive medicine culture is transparency in the physician’s decision-making process and open collaboration with the patient. These same approaches are put forth by Turner (2007b) as exemplifying expository interpreting. We believe that an important implication for practice offered by these concepts is an impetus toward a cultural shift away from defensive interpreting, as it may be the case that simply practicing more expository interpreting can lead to consumer familiarisation with such an approach, appreciation of its benefits for the enhancement of communicative efficacy, and thence to a cultural shift toward an expectation of more expository practices. The field of interpreting has posited several foundations from which to conceptualise the interpreter’s responsibilities, which can lead practitioners and consumers in confusing and at times conflicting directions. Awareness of defensive and expository interpreting, on the other hand, offers the simplicity of an overriding objective: the client’s best interest. Both the transparent collaboration between interpreters, colleagues and consumers as well as the identification and understanding of concepts are behind Turner’s (2006a: 109) explanation: [O]ur efforts to ensure that interpreted dialogue leads to an effective exchange of meaning will meet limited success if only the interpreters know what constitutes good practice and why. Part of the de-mystifying, then, must be that we have to find ways of speaking plainly about interpreting. The professional stance of defensive or expository interpreting presents an uncomplicated foundation from which students, practitioners, and educators can base their overall approach to professionalism to guide decision-making processes and potentially heighten awareness about inner

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orientations so that the client’s best interest is placed at the forefront. This objective is something that both interpreters and consumers of interpreting services may find easy to comprehend.

5.

Concluding Remarks

We propose that defensive interpreting and its alternative expository interpreting are descriptive of overall professional stances that are taken by interpreters in various situations which ultimately may or may not prove beneficial to the consumers of interpreting services. The identification and denomination of these professional stances and corresponding practices may—for both interpreters, educators and consumers—facilitate the recognition and management of interpreter stance. The premise of defensive interpreting is that by prioritising practitioner self-interest, the best interests of the clients are necessarily subordinated. The common ‘do no harm’ refrain is directed toward the avoidance of harm to the interpreter’s comfort or reputation while regard for potential harm to consumers is secondary. Expository interpreting, on the other hand, is what professionals are obliged to strive for by putting clients’ best interest before their own. Future research could explore a) if, and to what extent, interpreters feel that ideas about defensive and expository interpreting offer a useful conceptual framework for applications to practice and b) whether interpreters perceive that there is a defensive culture in the interpreting profession as mentioned or alluded to by researchers in the field of interpreting (Tate and Turner 2002; Hsieh 2008; Dean 2014) and, if so, whether and how they feel this influences practice. If research confirms that practitioners do relate to the concepts of defensive and expository interpreting, then further research could delve into what ways defensive or expository interpreting is perceived to appear, thus revealing common patterns. In addition to exploring perceptions of defensive and expository interpreting, future research could be conducted to ascertain whether familiarity with the concepts results in a heightened awareness of client interest, a more expository interpreting stance and, if so, if there is in fact a benefit to consumers of interpreting services. Furthermore, we have drawn on research identifying the professional enculturation process of interpreter training as presenting frameworks and expectations which may not align with actual practice, a phenomenon which, therefore, possibly contributes to the propagation of a defensive culture. Further research of several interpreting programs could delve into the dominant schema currently being laid for decision making in interpreter training to ascertain whether this particular type of enculturation is still largely the case and, if so, to what extent. Our thinking about the phenomenon of defensive and expository interpreting has brought us to reflect upon both the behaviours that arise in the wake of defensiveness and, primarily, the question of why these behaviours by interpreters are provoked at all. In addition, we have been concerned

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with what unwanted consequences are at risk. Certain outcomes of actions may be stimulated by a principal impetus to act defensively, and we therefore exhort trainers and practitioners to develop an appreciation of such outcomes. We have argued against the promotion of the interpreter’s own interests if this comes at the cost of better outcomes for the primary participants. We agree strongly with Downie (2016) who has argued that interpreting, when done properly, can be and needs to be appreciated as a form of enhancement to good communication, and not as an irritant or barrier to be tolerated. The value added, for the clients, is unlikely to be maximised by the interpreter prioritising her own professional interests. Defensive interpreting has been described here as, in effect, a search for the ‘lowest common denominator’ in an interpreter’s response to the prevailing circumstances—the ‘path of least resistance’ which will risk nothing, upset no one, and draw the least possible attention to any interpreting decision. As attractive as some may find such a course of action, we argue that it will not promote the highest quality critical thinking in interpreting (cf. the “real interpreting” advocated by Turner and Harrington 2000: 13), and actually acts as a brake on the generation of greater levels of professional skill and advanced, more progressive norms and practices across the field. What is more, the more embedded defensive practices become, the more primary participants expect two-dimensional or flat interpreting from service providers, as opposed to three-dimensional, contoured alternatives. Designating the terms ‘defensive’ and ‘expository’ interpreting thus aims to crystallise concepts implied in the literature into a recognisable theory, facilitating the ability to identify certain stances or decisions and navigate interpreter choices accordingly. While defensive interpreting may manifest itself in several ways, the underlying premise is that interpreter-centric motivations serve as the impetus behind interpreter decisions. Identification of defensive or expository interpreting may lay the foundation necessary for a professional stance from which to encourage informed, effective interpreted interactions with a focus on achieving optimum interpretations and client benefit.

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Turner, Graham H. (1995) The bilingual, bimodal courtroom: A first glance. Journal of Interpretation 7(1): 3–33. Turner, Graham H. (2000a) Regulation and responsibility: The relationship between interpreters and deaf people. In F. J. Harrington and G. H. Turner (eds.) Interpreting: Studies and Reflections on Sign Language Interpreting. Coleford: Douglas McLean, 34–42. Turner, Graham H. (2000b) Should I or shouldn’t I? In F. J. Harrington and G. H. Turner (eds.) Interpreting: Studies and Reflections on Sign Language Interpreting. Coleford: Douglas McLean, 67–72. Turner, Graham H. (2005) Towards real interpreting. In M. Marschark, R. Peterson and E. A. Winston (eds.) Sign Language Interpreting and Interpreter Education: Directions for Research and Practice. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 29–54. Turner, Graham H. (2006a) Some essential ingredients of sign language interpreting. In R. Locker McKee (ed.) Selected Proceedings of the First World Association of Sign Language Interpreters Conference. Coleford: Douglas Mclean, 106–114. Turner, Graham H. (2006b) Sign language: Interpreting. In K. Brown (ed.) Encyclopedia of Language and Linguistics (2nd ed.). Oxford: Elsevier. Turner, Graham H. (2007a) Exploring interdisciplinary alignment in interpreting studies: Sign language interpreting at conferences. In F. Pöchhacker, A. L. Jakobsen and I. M. Mees (eds.) Copenhagen Studies in Language 35: Interpreting Studies and Beyond. Copenhagen: Samfundslitteratur, 191–216. Turner, Graham H. (2007b) More than token gestures: Exploring the boundaries of “community interpreting”. Critical Link 2007 Congress “Quality in Interpreting— A Shared Responsibility”, held 11–15 April 2007 in Parramatta, Australia. Turner, Graham H. (2007c) Professionalisation of interpreting with the community. In C. Wadensjö, B. Englund Dimitrova and A. L. Nilsson (eds.) The Critical Link 4: Selected Papers From the 4th International Conference on Interpreting in Legal, Health and Social Service Settings, Stockholm, Sweden, 20–23 May 2004. Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 181–192. Turner, Graham H. and Harrington, Frank J. (2000) The campaign for real interpreting. In F.J. Harrington and G.H. Turner (eds.) Interpreting: Studies and Reflections on Sign Language Interpreting. Coleford: Douglas McLean, vi–xiv. Turner, Graham H. and Merrison, Andrew J. (2016) Doing “understanding” in dialogue interpreting: Advancing theory and method. Interpreting 18(2): 137–171. Turner, Graham H. and Pollitt, Kyra (2002) Community interpreting meets literary translation: British Sign Language interpreting in the theatre. The Translator 8(1): 25–48. Wadensjö, Cecilia (1992) Interpreting as Interaction: On Dialogue-Interpreting in Immigration Hearings and Medical Encounters. PhD dissertation, Linkoping University. Wadensjö, Cecilia (1998) Interpreting as Interaction. London: Longman. Werner, Ozzie and Campbell, Donald T. (1970) Translating, working through interpreters and the problem of decentering. In R. Naroll and R. Cohen (eds.) Handbook of Cultural Anthropology. New York: American Museum of National History, 398–420.

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The Interpreter as Observer, Participant and Agent of Change The Irresistible Entanglement Between Interpreting Ethics, Politics and Pedagogy Şebnem Bahadir

1.

Introduction

This paper is a reflection on the position of the interpreter as a third party in communication settings which were originally designed for two. For this reflection I propose to take the work of the German sociologist Georg Simmel on the Third and the Stranger as a conceptual framework. In order to ground this positioning of the interpreter as the Third, I will begin with a comparison of the interpreter with the ethnographer. I have introduced the idea to regard the interpreter as a professional participant observer—i.e. an ethnographer in earlier publications which were largely inspired by the work of the German cultural sociologist and translation scholar Göhring (Göhring 1977, 1978, 1980 in 2002; Bahadır 1998, 2004, 2007, 2008a, 2008b). The reason why I am so eager to make certain sociological and ethnographical concepts fruitful for our reflections on interpreter positioning is not only my enthusiasm for the sociology of the stranger and poststructuralist thinking on ethical issues. My eagerness stems from a desire to propose this meditation as a conceptual framework out of which to develop innovative pedagogical approaches for the education of interpreters on the one hand and innovative research methodologies for critical empirical field studies on the other. In this chapter, I will only hint at research-related aspects.1 Today it seems no revolutionary act anymore to speak of a self-conscious, self-reflexive, responsible, active and participating interpreter as a third party to a communication situation. In Interpreting Studies (especially if we see this field of studies as part of a general Translation Studies as I do) we seem to have overcome the period when the best interpreter was the most invisible and erasable interpreter. Considerable research and publications have been produced dealing with this change in perspective. This shift is not really (or not yet) true for the views of a large portion of service providers and experts in the medical, social and institutional settings working with an interpreter. The reductionist ideal of the interpreter as a pane of glass

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haunting many areas of work has interestingly enough very often had some sort of a rebound effect on persons who have become interpreters by learning on the job without having had many opportunities for developing tools for critical (self-)reflection and a differentiated view on their settings and relationships at work. This straitjacket of an interpreter identity is perpetuated by the commissioner, the external expert working with the interpreter and the interpreter herself if critical thinking on what really happens in interpreter-mediated talks is not fostered in training based on research and theoretical reflection. The way an interpreter perceives and presents herself in her daily work and how she acts and reacts to the other interaction partners in her working settings is definitely and closely linked with her education and the ethics of the occupation. A closer, more differentiated, critical and interdisciplinary look at the field of the interpreter is vital for a rethinking of the interpreter positioning. As a small contribution to this rethinking I now invite my reader to imagine the interpreter as ethnographer—an undertaking that should not evoke the image of a dusty scholar, cosily seated in an armchair pondering foreign cultures, ethnicities and societies. The interpreter I envisage here resembles the ethnographer who shook off the dust from her clothes as well as her ideas and went out into the field. This fieldworker-ethnographer has recognized her impact as a researcher on the persons/groups/topic she has been studying. She cannot deny the influence of her research subjects and topics on herself as a researcher either. And on a more systemic level, she is aware of the impact of politics and policies on her research and on herself, while also being aware of the potential impact of her research on politics and policies (Clifford and Marcus 1986; Davies 2008). It is the disenchanted ethnographer-interpreter who is to be invoked here, who is both conscious of her political and ethical potential to influence interaction and interactants, and of the impact of politics and ethics on her performance as a transformative agent in interpreter-mediated interaction. This critical and (self-) reflexive interpreter (as the critical ethnographer) no longer has the luxury of only immersing into the cultures/societies/groups/individuals she interprets without affirmatively accepting that political interests, power relationships, social and ethical implications determine all dimensions of her performance. This performance ranges from the level of translation proper—i.e. a single word to be chosen (or not) for the one word in the other’s language to her professional attitude and behaviour vis-à-vis acts of discrimination, injustice, domination, etc., in the interpreter-mediated encounter. To put it more succinctly: the praxis, the theory and the pedagogy of interpreting are an inseparable triad. The interpreter, like the ethnographer, is a social, political and ethical agent—an agent of change, transforming herself and the others, the encounter and talk of the others, the relationships between them, (even only) by being there as a third body and third person (speaking for herself as well as for the others) (Bahadır 2004, 2007, 2008a, 2010, 2011).

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A Theoretical and Contextual Framing2

Just like the ethnographer today in a disenchanted, postcolonial and globalized world (Asad 1973; Rabinow 1977; Clifford and Marcus 1986), the interpreter is not only, or not really, maybe even not necessarily, a linguistic and cultural expert, or a perfect connoisseur of the cultures, groups, persons, contexts involved in the interpreted event. Despite the essentialist discourse on interpreter proficiency, quality and ‘fitness’ (as a physical, as well as a cognitive and intellectual ability) in academia, the professional organizations and in the (self-) marketing of interpreters, in the field interpreters being less expert in the sense of being not totally routinized, hard-nosed and self-governed do a great deal of the jobs—and keep the communication going. So, it is an intriguing turn, both for the pedagogy of interpreting and the theoretical reflection on interpreting as an activity, to question some praised principles of professionalization. The most professional interpreter these days is claimed to be the one best trained, most conscious, best prepared, with as much terminology and expert jargon at hand as possible in all of her working languages, with a keen understanding of the situational context, the interaction patterns, the flow of action, the relationship between the participants’ talk. Mastery, control, command and sovereignty are higher principles that come into mind when we listen to such descriptions of professionalism. The entire discussion on professionalization hinges on an understanding that assumes and postulates technical competences and specialist skills as the pathway to ‘successful’ interpreting and ‘satisfactory’ interpreter performance. The idea of ‘instrumental thinking’ discussed by Dizdar (2014) plays an important role in the market- and success-orientation both in the applied field and education of interpreting: the product as well as the process of interpreting is seen as an ‘instrument’, a helping device, a tool. An instrument has to function well and without ruptures and disturbances. The specialization in topic areas, the acquisition and application of techniques and methods of linguistic/cultural transfer and a routinized, largely predictable performance are viewed as a protective shield against the human, soft, emotional and ethical, and thus ambivalent and ambiguous aspects during interpreting. An interpreter lacking total mastery of her working languages and cultures seems to be absolutely unacceptable. Under the pressure of this obsession with perfectionism and total command propagated either in academic education or by professional associations for conference interpreters like the AIIC, most of the training institutions for community interpreters outside academia are so intimidated that they dare not call their trainees ‘interpreters’—in Germany for example they are very often called ‘Sprach- und IntegrationsmittlerInnen’ (language and integration brokers) or ‘Sprach- und KulturmittlerInnen’ (linguistic and cultural mediators)3. These education programs mostly for migrants and refugees are typically very keen on differentiating themselves from academic interpreter training by professing (most solemnly) that their community

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interpreters are not real interpreters but at the same time more than only interpreters. Quite a few codes of ethics for community interpreters with their exorbitant stress on neutrality/impartiality reflect the great admiration coupled with a strong inferiority complex that seems to haunt the subconsciousness of so many agents in this field, whether project developer, commissioner, service provider, trainer, or community interpreter herself. The case of court interpreters (and the mission of their professional associations and ethical codes) who, with regard to their status and state of professionalization, are located somewhere between conference and community interpreters, is a very striking one in this paradoxical relationship to conference interpreting as the peak of all interpreting activities.4 In discussions with conference interpreter educators who themselves are mostly senior (if not veteran) conference interpreters, I have again and again heard the argument that the whole issue about ethical dilemmas and human factors in community interpreting would be immediately solved (as they contend it is solved in conference interpreting) if community interpreters would learn from the professional identity/role/attitude of the conference interpreter—and if their ethical codes would embrace neutrality as the utmost aim in order to turn off the all too diffuse human and/or cultural touch in this type of interpreting. The empirical field out there however starts to shake the secure grounds of interpreter education and shows us that despite our colleagues’ convictions we need a new approach in interpreter education, primarily for the highly ambivalent and complex interpreting situations, such as asylum hearings, psychotherapy for tortured refugees, counselling sessions for abused women or children, etc. Actually, we need this innovation for all settings in order to integrate ambivalence and ambiguities as central components of interpreted interactions into the training of interpreters in general. With more and more research concentrating on the ‘natural’ performance of volunteer and lay interpreters, whether they are professionals or non-professionals interpreting as activists and volunteers in non-mainstream political areas, such as the Social Forum (Boéri 2010), or children of migrants/ minorities playing the role of the intermediary between their ethnic/ cultural minority community and the majority in a society (e.g. Angelelli 2010; Ahamer 2012), the path of questioning the belief in this totality of linguistic/cultural competence is paved. Critical reflections on the now nearly inflationary use of the notion of competence in translation pedagogy are not widespread (cf. for two exceptions: Dizdar 2012, 2014; Pachego Aguilar 2015) and in interpreting pedagogy even practically non-existent. There is much more critical work to be done investigating into the ideology and systemic constraints (economic and political), behind the notion of competence in pedagogy and the educational sciences (cf. for a critical discussion of the concept in pedagogy e.g. Han 2008; Salling Olesen 2013). The praxis catches up with our academic interpreter education, because in the field of multilingual societies most interpreting instances occur in everyday

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situations as the ‘performance’ of non- or at least semi-professionals who ‘grow into the job’ and become autodidact interpreters. This situation is comparable to the ‘native’ translator described by Toury in 1986 and to the natural translator by Harris in 1977, with some developing into extraordinary interpreters. This ‘growing into the job’ of native/natural interpreters in community settings is not much different from the ‘growing into the profession’ of so many pioneer conference interpreters in international organizations, most of whom are also founders of the international professional organization of conference interpreters AIIC. Even nowadays, if we look at the databases of conference interpreters, members of AIIC, we will find many fascinating multilingual, multicultural personalities, mostly very well educated and from distinct families, but rarely academically trained as conference interpreters. Of course, there are no education programs for conference interpreters for every language in every country. This is a very practical obstacle. On the other hand the positive image of the ‘learning by doing’ of veteran AIIIC conference interpreters is also a matter of class differentiation: most of them seem to have a bourgeois background, they belong to the ‘Bildungsbürgertum’—or they are children of diplomats. A comparative study on the differences in the social and political acceptance, in the self-empowerment and self-determination as ‘natural professionals’ between multilingual/multicultural untrained community interpreters and conference interpreters with a critical translation sociological approach, concentrating on professionalism as ideology, on categories of differentiation like class, gender, identity and body politics would be highly eye-opening. Thus we need much more critical research on the various dimensions of interpreter identity and especially on the now very complicated and sensitive issue of professionalization and professionalism (as an ideology). The starting point for any critical thought on profession, status, identity and agency is the interpreter’s disposition characterized by political, social and ethical entanglements. Research on the inevitability of interpreter involvement show the direction: researchers such as Tate and Turner (1997), Metzger (1999), Rudvin (2002), Bot (2003, 2005), Inghilleri (2012) and Pinzker (2015) work and write on the “myth of the uninvolved interpreter”—to quote Hanneke Bot, a psychotherapist basing her research on her professional experiences with interpreters and contributing a great deal to interpreting studies with her findings. Psychotherapists Bot and Pinzker defend a three-person-psychology rather than a negation of the interpreter’s presence and influence. Rudvin highlights the need for strong professional identities in interpreting, “to form and maintain a robust community of practice that is in a position to set standards, and to achieve a sense of meaningfulness and job satisfaction” (2015: 442). Hardening on reductionist ideals like neutrality and too much highlighting of the secondary, non-creative and imitating quality of interpreting seems to have been hindering professional self-confidence: Rudvin argues that a strong professional identity leads to

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better performance not by referring to an optimal satisfaction of the clients’ needs but by referring to the satisfaction of the interpreter’s needs. An interpreter with a full-fletched professional identity can much better find solutions for “interpreter-related stressors such as burn-out, role-confusion, lack of autonomy/discretion, lack of recognition, lack of training and accreditation opportunities, lack of professional group membership etc.” (2015).

3.

The Interpreter as Participant and Observer: The Third as an Agent of Social Change

The minimal basis for an interaction to be characterized as interpretedmediated interaction is the presence and the active contribution of at least three persons or, more accurately, three parties. It has become largely accepted and even quite presentable in the scientific community of interpreting researchers to describe the triad as the ideal positioning of an interaction with interpreters. We now talk of the triadic instead of the dyadic principle in interpreter-mediated communication. Mason (2001) stresses the importance of viewing interpreted events as three-way interaction. The idea of a three-way interaction is introduced by Wadensjö’s usage of the concept of footing by Goffman as early as in 1998, showing how the two interaction partners speak not only ‘through’ the interpreter but ‘with’ the interpreter, address her directly and that the interpreter herself also uses direct address. Thus a general change in perspective in interpreting studies (most evidently seen in Pöchhacker 2000) was mainly due to the fact that the field of community interpreting intruded into interpreting studies which, until the 1990s, was dominated by research on conference and especially simultaneous interpreting in the booth (Pöchhacker 2004; Shlesinger 2008). It seems as if via the practice of community interpreting as a type of interpreting where the interpreter as a body and an agent cannot be that easily effaced, as in conference interpreting in the booth; the interpreter as third person has somehow reached the status of a rather unquestioned ‘reality’ and has taken up the space she needs to be present. Today, we can list important empirical studies concentrating on this undeniable physical and intellectual presence of the interpreter—e.g. by Wadensjö (1998), Angelelli (2004), Pöllabauer (2005), to name just a few. However, with few exceptions, what is still lacking is the dissemination of these research results in the area of education, which in my opinion is only possible if we connect our concerns with the politics, ethics and pedagogy of interpreting. The interpreter performs three roles in interpreter-mediated interactions— not consecutively or alternately but simultaneously: observer, participant and agent of change (cf. Bahadır 2004, 2007, 2008a, 2010, 2011). All three roles imply sociopolitical positioning and ethical decisions. Participant observation has a long tradition in ethnography and anthropology, and is also used within a more critical framework in recent studies in qualitative social research. As an analytical exercise we can work with an artificial division

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between the two activities: on the one hand observing the researched persons/community from the outside, from a distance; on the other hand being amongst them, becoming part of them, interacting with them. However, the observer’s bias has always counteracted the concern of minimizing the distortion caused by the presence of the researcher. Although the method is haunted by the essentialistic view that there is a clearly distinguishable and separable inside and outside of situations, encounters, identities and bodies, the fieldwork conducted with this method undeniably shows that this ‘desire’ is futile (for a critical discussion of the method of participant observation in qualitative social research cf. Hirschauer 2001; Hirschauer and Hoffmann and Stange 2015). So my argument here goes that in interpreting we experience the very same oscillation between the inside and outside of a field or interaction, trying to find some grounding in the middle, just as in participant observation. Interpreting is the activity of a person in-between, acting from a space in-between (Bahadır 2004, 2007). This state of ‘in-between-ness’ is both physical and functional—i.e. interpreters are the body in-between, a third thinking and speaking subject. The in-between-person is the ‘third person’ to a communication originally designed for two. The physical and functional entrance of the interpreter into the space of the two, transforms the dyad into a triad, the social relationship of the two into the much more complex relationship of the three. For the German sociologist Georg Simmel, the number three represents the decisive step towards building a group—i.e. the founding principle for society-building (Vergesellschaftung) and enabling complex and ambivalent social relationships such as coalition, siding, domination, othering, exclusion, inclusion (Simmel 1908: 32–100).5 All forms of social interactions can already be observed in this micro-cosmos of the three. The Third is establishing a balance in this group relationship and simultaneously undermining this balance. This instability is a characteristic of any interpreter-mediated interaction. The moment the interpreter comes onto the stage of professional communication in medical, legal and social settings, the singularity and the intimacy of the relationship between the expert and the client is altered by a strong sense of alienation. The interpreter as a third party in conventional therapy or counselling sessions is ascribed the role of the intruder disturbing the intimate togetherness of the original communication partners as long as the therapy session is regarded to be an interaction solely between therapist and client and as long as the interpreter is not assigned a place of her own in this therapeutic situation. Interpreters may be perceived both as saviours and troublemakers: the patient, depending on the interpreter to convey his/her story of illness and pain, might embrace her as a saviour. In the same situation, medical experts may perceive the interpreter as a disruptive element in the course of a consultation of which they are normally in full control. The interpreter breaks up the intimacy and the two-dimensionality of the dyadic situation. According to Simmel, in dyads we have the rule of individuals and of singularity. As soon

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as the Third enters, a community is made possible; communal aims, common actions, collective identities are fostered (1908: 75–82). The ethics and politics of the encounter change; the interpreter becomes an ethical agent of sociopolitical change. The interpreter, as soon as she is confirmed as an individual and a subject in the triadic communication, becomes a split subject which for Critchley (2007: 11) means that the ethical subject is, in my parlance, hetero-affectively constituted. It is a split subject divided between itself and a demand that it cannot meet, a demand that makes it the subject that it is, but which it cannot entirely fulfil. The sovereignty of my autonomy is always usurped by the heteronomous experience of the other’s demand. The ethical subject is a dividual. The interpreter becomes an ethical subject only by becoming a person divided between high ethical demands and the political (empirical) praxis. On the one hand, codes of professional ethics demand from her neutrality and detachment. On the other hand, she interprets for discriminated, injured, tortured, violated, fragile and precarious persons. In interpreter-mediated interactions, the script of triadic entanglements is staged. Even if more than one person per party is present—i.e. if the migrant client is accompanied by the whole family to the hospital or if not only one teacher but also the headmaster and a social worker are taking part in the talk with the mother at school—the basic constellation is a triadic one. It is striking that after the third is added it no longer makes a big difference to add more persons—i.e. a group of three persons may not be less complex than a group of 5, 10, 11 or so. The addition of a third party to an interaction seems to be the utmost unsettling in social relations. We can observe this tremor in community interpreting very well: all the complex interaction patterns mentioned earlier are only gradually intensified in a group with more than three. The basic perturbation remains the same: the suspension of the intimacy of the two. The Third brings ‘the public’ in and transforms the tête-à-tête between two individuals into a social interaction. With the entrance of the Third—i.e. the interpreter—the intercultural encounter of two individuals/parties becomes ‘socialized’ in the sense that it turns into a social interaction. These interactions between individuals, the social interactions, are the formative processes creating a society. The social dynamics emerging from adding one Other to the most intimate number of two, opens up new options of subordination and superordination (Simmel 1908: 101–185). Simmel’s descriptions of interactions between individuals as well as groups that lead to new social formations and processes can inspire fieldwork on interpreter-mediated interactions with a new methodological framework enabling us to analyse different interactional events and effects with a focus on the addition of the Third. Of course, the relationship

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between a doctor and a patient or a counsellor and a client is equally hierarchy ridden and prone to suppression and submission. With the interpreter as the Third, however, these options for subordination and superordination are multiplied and become more dense, complex and precarious. Power relations—i.e. the dialectical movement between disempowerment and empowerment, suppression and resistance, discrimination and recognition—are negotiated by the pairing of two against one: the possibility for one of the three to play off the second against the third opens up a three-dimensional variety of actions, reactions and interaction strategies. Triadic interaction in general, and interpreter-mediated encounters especially, is haunted by the will to win the newcomer onto one’s side: Simmel’s elaborations on the efforts of the originally much more powerful and dominant two parties, which were present before the Third comes on stage, to absorb and naturalize the intruder are individualized in the figure of the Stranger. This Stranger, as a hybrid category between friend (the insider) and enemy (the outsider), becomes the protagonist in Bauman’s deliberations on postmodern ethics and identities (1991, 1993)—and in a whole branch of (post)modern sociology, the Sociology of the Stranger (Soziologie des Fremden). Yet this urge to assimilate the Stranger by drawing him/her to the one side or the other, is always undermined by the fugitive position of the Third arriving later and coming from the outside to the inside. In order to escape this tension and confrontation, the Stranger/ Third/Interpreter begins to struggle to become a party of her own.6 Simmel (1908: 82–89) describes this movement of the subordinated third element as getting more independent from the two superordinated parties by becoming the tertius gaudens: the Third who is laughing and profiting from her position to be the distant Other, not involved in the conflict of the ‘original two’. If we adapt Simmel’s framework to the form of social interaction between the interpreter and her two clients, we can conclude that, by dedicating herself to the role of the observer, the interpreter has the chance to become more self-determined. An important trait of the Stranger seems to be the impossible expectancy of being both an insider and an outsider to the interaction (Simmel 1908: 509–512). For Simmel, some kind of objectivity reminding of movements like alienation and dissociation seems to be the strategy for the Stranger/Third to stand against assimilation in her relationship with the two insiders. The oscillation between distance and closeness makes the Stranger a fragmented subject. This challenge of the Stranger is the exact same challenge confronting the interpreter in every minute of her performance. Yet it is not that easy to pass over to the level of the tertius gaudens for the interpreter—first of all she must negotiate a space and identity for herself as interpreter, as middle(wo)man, as the (wo)man in the middle. Then the interpreter requires methods and strategies enabling her to detach herself and to get involved in the very next moment—and not to remain in the one or the other state for too long.

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Interpreting is a to-and-fro movement, a dialectical relationship between indeterminacy, volatility, independence and fixedness, positioning, situatedness. The interpreter is transmitting the personal evaluation, the talk, the attitudes, the values and the perspective of the one party to the second by getting close, near, involved, engaged and with a slight shift in time and space she then detaches herself, denies involvement, refuses engagement by pretending to be ‘only’ the person in-between who neither identifies completely with the one or the other participant. The compulsion propelling her forward is the fear of becoming too much of one or the other—i.e. to identify with the one by neglecting the Other. This shift in positioning can be observed on the level of the verbal as well as nonverbal performance and the attitude/the behaviour of the interpreter outside the interpreted sections—e.g. during briefings or debriefings with the experts in contact with migrants, when entering the room and presenting herself as the interpreter to both parties, during talks with the clients/patients before or after the ‘proper’ interpreting process.7 The usage of the first-person singular (‘I’) versus the third person singular (‘s/he’), the direct rendering versus indirect speech with or without introducing/commenting/highlighting verbal phrases have (already) been studied as the empirical, observable outcome of this dialectic between involvement and detachment: the rules of good conduct in many settings (and most interpreter trainers) defend the necessity of using preferably the first-person direct rendering or at least deciding to use the one or the other technique without mixing the ‘I’ with the ‘s/he’. The reason is quite clear: there is the risk of losing control over the speech of the one and the other, of mixing the voices, of blending the speech of the two original agents into one speech—i.e. the speech of the interpreter alone. Yet the praxis is much more complicated. This is especially true in moments of smaller and bigger crises, when the flow of interaction changes or even breaks down, suddenly, unpredictably, when something happens, then the unconscious, the unforeseen, the intuition, the ‘gut feeling’ rather than the intellect and the intellectually acquired competences may influence the interpreter’s rendering. There is much more to discuss behind certain empirical data showing us that ‘I wish to start chemotherapy’ is rendered as ‘she says she would like to start chemotherapy’, when the interpreter says ‘he fears that his son will not pay his rent’ for ‘my son will not pay my rent’ and when ‘she questions the benefits of the treatment’ comes out of the interpreter’s mouth as translation for ‘I am not sure whether the treatment will help me’. A linguistic analysis would find a grammatical shift, a change in sentence structure and subject usage. A normative, strategically essentialistic and translation political approach would judge that the rendering is distorted, the agency transformed, the client’s speech falsified, the voice of the discriminated suppressed, the subaltern deprived of the right to speak up for themselves. It would be interesting to look at these events of blended voices and hybrid talk from different perspectives—i.e. to conduct empirical research with a focus on the ways of

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hybridization of original speech and the filtering actions (no matter whether they are conscious or unconscious) of the interpreter vis-à-vis the so-called original participants’ verbal and nonverbal contributions to the interaction. Yet before starting fieldwork, we need to draw up a theoretical frame yielding the categories and the methods for analysing the most precarious attribute of the interpreter, the almost mysterious phenomenon of neutrality/objectivity. As we have seen, Simmel tells us that there are two ways of establishing and somehow living up to this ‘objectivity’: either by being equally uninterested—and for me this is the state of taking up the position of the outsider who observes (of course there will always remain the residue of the observer’s subjectivity/bias but this paradox cannot be resolved anyhow)—or by taking up the position of the laughing third—whom I understand as being an insider and outsider at the same time, participating but always with a trace of observing. The strategies of the tertius gaudens can be compared to mimicry or hybridization. The theoretical frame I envisage for empirical work would aim at reflecting upon and naming the strategies of indifference and disassociation which are deeply entangled with strategies of interference and intrusion in interpreting performances. Here, Simmel’s descriptions can be linked to Bhabha’s (1994) deliberations on the identity-marking strategies of the postcolonial hybrid subject: Bhabha’s hybrid as well as Simmel’s Stranger, who, in my approach, are phenotypes of the interpreter, enters a certain path of sublimation for solving the paradox of the unfulfilled ethical demand (Critchley 2007: 38–68) of objectivity/ neutrality/impartiality. For a deeper understanding of this paradoxical attribution to the performance of the interpreter, some of Critchley’s ideas on the creation of the ethical and political subject could be of help. Philosophical thinking and theory construction starts with disappointment, lack, and deficit, Critchley defends in his intriguing book Infinitely Demanding. Ethics of Commitment, Politics of Resistance, “with the indeterminate but palpable sense that something desired has not been fulfilled” (2007: 1). I will take this ‘diagnosis’ as a point of departure for an attempt at rereading the ethics and politics of interpreting.

4.

The Ethics and Politics of Interpreting the Interpreter: From ‘an Ethics of Infinitely Demanding Commitment’ to ‘the Politics of Resistance’

The ethics of translation as well as interpreting has become a topic for quite a few translation theorists lately. Yet here again the bridge between theory and its application in education is still very shaky: Washbourne (2013) discusses the need to include training in ethical reflexion and decision making for translators into the education of translators. She stresses that translational ethics as a field of study is still in its infancy. Although she thinks that interpreting studies have produced more works on this topic area (2013: 47), I am not quite of the same opinion. I think the works

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by poststructuralist, postmodern and feminist translation theorists like Arrojo, Spivak, Cronin, Prunc but also earlier, the more classical theorists like Vermeer and Toury, have laid the foundations for a sound investigation into the ethics of translation/the translator. However, Washbourne is totally right when she stresses that ethical learning nowadays fits into the process- and performance-oriented approaches in translation and interpreting pedagogy. She points to the fact that ethics are not so much related to transferring or applying fixed rules or codes but emerge “through our collective problem-solving competence applied to novel situations” (2013: 46). She differentiates levels of ethics in ethics education, but just like Critchley, she puts conflict at the heart of all ethics: conflict is a central part to so many translational activities (2013: 39). Thus students of translation have to learn to find solutions, to decide upon one way/solution and to perform the chosen solution. These stages need all ethical information and reasoning. And the most important point in the translator’s position is that her ethical reasoning and decision-making process always involves herself and the Other(s) (40). For the student to get used to and trained in this ethical thinking she needs to see the social complexity behind the translation task and to develop a much wider perspective than just the text-perspective: “The disabuse of student text-involvement in favour of a healthy world-involvement is a first condition of an ethical training or education in translation” (41). Interpreting ethics means embracing a basic dialectical movement, a fundamental paradox: being close, involved, within and being distant, detached, outside to the event and the situation that is interpreted and the persons that are interpreted. Critchley (2007: 10) speaks of a “dividual” instead of an individual, a split subject as soon as a person indulges into ethical thinking. I, as an ethical subject, am “hetero-affectively constituted” and the “sovereignty of my autonomy is always usurped by the heteronomous experience of the other’s demand” (Critchley 2007: 11). This unfulfillable demand in the case of the interpreter is the expectation of the two clients for neutrality and equal distance. The internalization of this demand by the interpreter divides her subjectivity. With this dividedness, a concept comes into the foreground that has not been highlighted very often in interpreting ethics: an appeal to the interpreter’s conscience. Critchley calls this the “ethics of discomfort” (Critchley 2007). The uneasiness generated can be reread as affirmation and as a method to reach a more radical and anarchic dimension of political commitment. Only through an ethics that is disturbing the status quo, can a politics of resistance emerge. If we accept an ethics of interpreting that is not only heralding the ethical commandment of neutrality but at the same time recognizing the impossibility inscribed into this commandment, then this ethics will enable us to rethink our neat and cosy binary oppositions such as professional versus unprofessional, loyal/verbal/literal versus free/disloyal/distorted renderings, etc.

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Thus it would be necessary for us to embrace the idea of failure, transgression and betrayal as the other face of neutrality and impartiality. Such diabolic/luciferic approaches to translation can be found in the work of postcolonial and postmodern translation scholars (e.g. Quental/Ahrens 1997). In Interpreting Studies, the fieldworkers as well as the theoreticians are not very keen on working on the ‘anarchic principle’ behind the act of interpreting. This Janus-face of interpreting makes us feel so uneasy that we tend to suppress it—rather than trying another strategy proposed by Critchley for the wretched, divided, discomforted ethical subject: what he calls ‘sublimation’. Critchley rereads Levinas, Marx, Freud, Lacan and Badiou for his project of an ethics of commitment. I would like to place in the foreground three sets of ethical deliberations (inspired by Critchley’s elaborations) as a basis for the development of a critical pedagogy of interpreting: 1. The unfulfillable and discomforting demand for neutrality/impartiality in interpreting is grounded in the desire for overcoming the disturbance by being a Third to the communication. It is possible, though, to view this in-between position affirmatively in order to transform it into a power of action rather than a paralyzing state of mind. This happens at every moment in the interpreter performance: as soon as the interpreter performs—i.e. defies inactivity as a result of the fragmented state of her conscience—the affirmative act takes place. Now it is up to the empirical studies we have to conduct to describe the happenings before, after and around the interpreter’s performance; to dig out the effects of the other participants’ actions on the interpreter’s performance; to interpret the relations and interactions among the three parties and most importantly to try to find out how and when and why the affirmative turn within the interpreter performance takes place. The interpreter who continues to interpret, who acts despite breaks, fragmentation and disturbances somehow overcomes the state of dividedness. Now it is time to investigate into the empirical moments of suspension/sublimation of the moral pressure of neutrality and objectivity. 2. There is a dialectical relationship between such ethical principles like benevolence, justice, solidarity, recognition, loyalty and truthfulness as motivations for an ethics of interpreting on the one hand and guilt, bad conscience, deficit and disappointment that are also inscribed in this ethical undertaking, on the other. Thus the commitment to interpret starts with the embrace of this dialectical relationship. For this dialectics not to degenerate into a spiral of guilt of which there is no way out, the ethics of interpreting has to be rooted in the empirical. The ethical experience is always based on the exorbitant demand of infinite responsibility. But truthfulness in the ethical sense can only be experienced in

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a very specific situation. The ethical subject—i.e. the ethical interpreter is always a subject-in-becoming as she shapes her ethical stance, her positioning always in relation to the demand of the Other—in the situatedness of the Other. 3. Ethics in general and the ethics of interpreting especially are subjective and situational experiences. Critchley describes ethics as the process of formation of “ethical subjectivity” which is always bound to a concrete situation (2007: 19–23). It is in the relation with the Other in a specific place, time and event that the interpreter becomes an ethical subject. The inadequacy of the interpreter to meet this demand is at first sight a tragic experience. Critchley shows with his readings of different thinkers how the tragic-heroic, the aesthetic or the humorous can be ways out of the destructiveness and futility of this inadequacy and inefficiency of meeting an ethical demand (2007: 69–87). The humorous reminds me of the position of the tertius gaudens proposed by Simmel: the requirement to be neutral and loyal at the same time can become less destructive and paralyzing if the interpreter takes up a humorous stance to the happenings which involves detachment and a certain degree of elusiveness. The humorous, according to Critchley (2007: 77–82), has the power to lead us from an ethics of commitment to a politics of resistance because the humorous “recalls us the modesty and limitedness of the human condition.” The tragic-heroic affirmation would be of no help for the interpreter after recognizing that originality and authenticity cannot be restored. The humorous functions like an ‘antidepressant,’ to use Critchley’s provocative jargon, because by laughing at our own inauthenticity and imperfection, our professional identity can also be questioned and reread in a more modest and pragmatic way. The interpreter as the laughing third has the self-confidence and the modesty to make the best out of an originally negative situation: two sides struggle for absorbing the interpreter, but she resists being crushed between the expectations of the two by recognizing the futility of neutrality. As soon as she performs the function of a laughing third, she has the disposition of concentrating on the individual and the unexpected in every single interpreting situation. The rereading of perfectionist und reductionist norms, which seemingly are inscribed in the idea of professionalism and which might have a suffocating effect on the interpreter’s performance, calls for a change in perspective in the pedagogy of interpreting, too. If we take the ethics and politics of interpreting outlined earlier as a basis for a different outlook on the profession of interpreting and the professionalism of interpreters, the pedagogy of interpreting needs to be renewed as well. I will now present in sketches a method for a pedagogy of interpreting rooted in an ethics of commitment and a politics of resistance.

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A Critical and (Self)Reflexive, Body- and PerformanceCentred Pedagogy of Interpreting

The pedagogy of translation and interpreting is undergoing a slow but radical change. On the one hand, the changing conditions outside in the field of work are shaking the grounds of traditional translator and interpreter education with traditional roles assigned to the persons engaged in intercultural and interlingual mediation work. On the other hand, critical approaches in the field of pedagogy in general have started to show their impact on translator and interpreter educators. A key understanding of post-modern approaches to education is that learning can no longer be seen as the intended result of a toss-and-catch, conduit or transmissionist process involving the transfer of knowledge from teacher to learner. [. . .] From this perspective, competence is not stored away inside of craniums, it is enaction dynamically embodied in authentic activity. (Kiraly 2013: 206) In Kiraly’s constructivist approach to translator competence and education the focus is put rather on ‘emergence’ than on ‘acquisition’: he is highlighting the “complexity of the enacted sociocognitive activity involved in translation processes” and calling for qualitative measuring and evaluation of “emergent translator competence” (215). It is very important that Kiraly expresses criticism of “quantitative analyses and experimental studies” and favours “qualitative case study” as an approach in researching the “development of translator competence” (222). In interpreter education, the concepts of enaction, embodiment, dynamism and authentic activity play an even greater role.8 The Dolmetschinszenierungen [interpreting enactments] method focuses on the body of the interpreter and the context of the interpretation: the emotional, nonverbal and irrational dimensions of interaction as well as the social, cultural, political and personal factors that influence the interpreter’s performance are just as important as the verbal factors during the interpreting enactments. The (self-)reflexive and ethical positioning of the interpreter is an integral part of the education. All interpreting enactments start with a frame scenario, a rough and open description of the interpreter-mediated interaction. The frame scenario (Rahmenszenario) is extended to multiple enactments: the trainees/students take this frame only as a point of departure and develop different roles for the different actors and different courses of action for the interactions. They conduct research on the specific topic area, e.g., domestic violence or informed consent before a surgery, or receive input from the professionals—i.e. the social worker or the surgeon—who participate in the interpreting enactments and whose experiences inspire the construction of the frame scenario. After the preparation of the roles and of

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possible courses of action in workshops, a period of rehearsal in language specific subgroups starts. The scenarios are not only discussed or dealt with ‘intellectually’ but ‘lived and experienced’ by all interaction partners. Active participation of professionals from the future interpreters’ lines of work (experts from the social, medical and institutional areas) is fundamental for training with the method of interpreting enactments. Here the stress is on “active” which means much more than just an invitation for a talk for or a discussion with the students: what we need to practice much more is real cooperative learning and teaching. This again does not only mean to send our students to the service providers for internships and let the practitioners do our job as educators: we need to develop and apply new concepts and methods for either including external experts into our academic training of interpreters on the one hand or for training the future experts from other relevant areas (i.e. medical doctors, social workers, psychologists) and their future interpreters together in interdisciplinary courses. With colleagues from medical studies and pharmacy studies at Mainz University we have been working on the design of such a truly interdisciplinary course since October 2015 within the framework of an innovative education project supported by the Gutenberg Teaching Council. It was a common decision to put the triad in the centre of the joint course and work intensively on the building of a new relationship between the three interaction partners and the development of new techniques and strategies of expert talk both for the medical doctor/pharmacist and the interpreter. The course was for the first time realized in late May at the University of Mainz with students of medicine, pharmacy and community interpreting and an interdisciplinary team of trainers, preparing them to their future fields of cooperation—i.e. working together on interpreter-mediated patient-doctor/pharmacist-talks.9 The difference to internships or occasions for learning on the job is significant: when working with interpreting enactments, the praxis is taken into the classroom, which is the protected space of pedagogy. Interns and trainees learning on the job are sent or maybe even thrown into field. Interpreting enactments are characterized by the intimacy and the protection of the pedagogical space: students/trainees and teachers/trainers/ professionals from the relevant fields alike are allowed to try it out without any severe consequences for themselves or others (cf. Bahadır 2011). The pedagogical space of the interpreting enactments is theatrical, performative and to a certain extent even therapeutic. The world outside is let in only via the frame scenario. The difference in role-playing or simulations resides in the challenge of transformation of this outside world with dramaturgical means. The method in this respect is based on the principle of the ‘as if’ inscribed in any performance: interpreting enactments oscillate between the promise of getting very close to the so-called reality outside the teaching room and the chance to fictionalize this reality in the ‘as-if-world’ (cf Boal 1982, 1995; Schechner 1985, 2003). The situation, the interaction and the performance of the actors are decelerated, fragmented, stopped, transformed,

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reiterated (for the theoretical foundations of the method inspired by theatre pedagogy, theatre anthropology, performance studies, sociology and ethnography (cf. Bahadır 2007, 2008a, 2011, 2015)). Certain fragments, e.g. the moment of the entrance of the interpreter into the doctor’s office, are ‘magnified’ and ‘condensed’—i.e. nonverbal and verbal factors influencing the flow of these 30 seconds are analysed in a way that can be compared to putting them under a magnifying glass. The roles or the actors are changed. Everyone participating is invited to play all roles. The students/trainees play at any rate the roles of the interpreter and of the migrant client. Different interaction patterns, strategies, techniques, decision-making processes are tried out. Alongside aspects of language, cultural and professional skills, the ability to make decisions in context-dependent freedom and to take ‘performative’ (in the sense of a conscious and public act of performance) responsibility for any interpreting act are brought to the foreground when trying to evaluate the interpreter’s actions. Various openings and endings of the scenario are rehearsed and discussed. Students/trainees, trainers/moderators and external experts are invited to retrieve earlier experiences and to discuss in teams these experiences in order to elaborate on the various manifestations of the case. The professionals from the relevant fields are not present as experts to tell the interpreters how things should work outside the classroom. They participate in order to become sensitized for future collaboration with interpreters. Perez and Wilson show with their survey carried out amongst police interpreters as well as police officers working with interpreters that as soon as police officers start to work with better trained and self-aware interpreters they demand for an integration of the topic how to work with (and not only through) interpreters into their own training. Although I do not quite agree with the evaluation in the last sentence of their conclusion concerning the impact of the interpreter’s contribution to the police interview, I agree with them when they stress the need for cooperation in a “professional team”, which is an acknowledgement of a full professional role for the interpreter within the police interview and not only the role of a channel or pane of glass: Fundamentally, it is about enabling police officers and interpreters to work as a professional team, in complementary partnership, so that working through an interpreter has the minimum disruptive or negative impact on the interview thereby ensuring fairness to both the accused and to society at large. (Perez and Wilson 2007: 93) The argumentation has to be led differently here within the ethics of commitment and involvement I propose for interpreting. First of all, we have to give up the illusion that there is a ‘working through an interpreter’ (here we have again the pane of glass metaphor in the background). So they have to

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work WITH the interpreter. Then this working WITH the interpreter will per naturam involve disruptive impact, which should not, by definition, be seen as negative. If the disruptive impact can be reread as creative and cooperative potential then a new perspective can be opened for a more participatory and interactive form of ensuring fairness. The accused and the society at large can only be given a voice and the right to demand for fairness if the power of the interrogating part is not almighty and unquestioned and if the interpreter is accepted to be disruptive and participating. If the interpreter after getting recognition as member of a team of two professionals (rather a professional team which sounds as if both have to pull together—but there are limits to the interpreting activity if certain ethical boundaries are transgressed which would still be very much acceptable even desirable for the police interrogation) withdrew to her cosy corner of being least disruptive and most smooth then she would serve only the interest of one of her clients: the police. However, the big difference in the work ethics between police officer and interpreter is that the interpreter has always two clients. The condition for a constructive cooperation between all participants to the interpreting enactments is an acknowledgment of the interdependency of all actors to this scenario and the readiness of learning together. Team-teaching plays a vital role, as cooperation between students, tutors, teachers and external professionals creates a flexible, dynamic and somehow democratic training environment. The work on and with one frame scenario requires on average an entire day: work on a frame scenario always starts with body, voice and breathing exercises. In this first phase of training the body, a special focus is laid on nonverbal installations and intralingual enactments. Students (and participating professionals from other fields) play the three roles of the interpreter in the field: they are participant observers (with the task of taking notes, discussing and writing participant observer reports about the other students’ performances), actors or actresses/agents of sociopolitical change (with the task of playing the role of interpreter, but also the role of the migrant/client and in some enactments also the role of the ‘other professional’ and directors) and directors (with the task of critically reflecting upon, evaluating and, if necessary, modifying their own performance and that of the other students).10 Interpreting enactments can be described as experiential, experimental and pedagogical theatre work: the diverse facets of each scenario are prepared, rehearsed, modified, rehearsed again, performed, changed again, etc., in the various phases of interpreting enactments. The work on a scenario starts from a wide-angle: at the beginning, the focus is on the space—i.e. the stage of the interpreter-mediated interactions. The same wide-angle also determines the perspective on the role of the interpreter. It is not the word that we begin with but the body. Using the method of interpreting enactments means that we study proxemic relations between all actors, but also between objects and actors, that we pay attention to movements and nonverbal communication factors like gestures, facial expressions, eye contact

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and body posture. Much, much later but with equal diligence and responsibility, the interpreter’s performance is discussed and evaluated by looking at conversation dynamics, discourses, individual stretches of speech, terminology and finally every single word that is (not) uttered in the scenario and is (not) interpreted. The method itself, like the act of interpreting, is a continuous to-and-fro movement between the general, cultural, ethical and political in an interpreter-mediated interaction and the contingent, individual and volatile in a single moment of interpretation. The aim is to concentrate on the unique event in every interpreting experience as well as on the general(isable) framework. Similar to the ethnographer’s eye and the performer’s body, the interpreter (student/trainee) is asked to endure the dialectics of the interpreting performance—i.e. the tension between proximity and detachment, fixedness and ambivalence. Compared to the repertoire of competences and skills generally propagated by interpreter education institutions, I can boil down the benefits of working with interpreting enactments to a fundamental skill consisting of various patches: the disposition to be open and attentive for the unpredictable and uncontrollable in the flow of action, the relations between the actors and the individual performances of the actors. Intertwined with this attentiveness is the flexibility and creativity to perform as an interpreter despite cracks in the routine and events undermining the recall of acquired knowledge and earlier experience. The promise of professionalism in this pedagogical approach undermines and resists normalization and standardization of interpreting strategies, techniques, acts and performances—and calls us to rethink predefined conceptions of professionalism by concentrating on the singularity of every empirical moment in the performance of an interpreter who is an observer, participant and agent of change at the same time.

5.

A Political Conclusion

This paper ends with a plea to give the interpreter the right and obligation to position herself as the Third and to take a space and a role of her own in interpreter-mediated encounters. This demand to make the interpreter embrace the responsibility and freedom at the same time is a political one addressing the politics of the field of work, but also the politics of research and education. Ethical principles have their justification and they have to be deemed high by representatives of professions in order to survive and receive acknowledgement as a profession. Neutrality, impartiality, distance, disinvolvement, unbiasedness—we need these principles, that is for sure. Yet they are man-made, time-bound and interest-oriented. Thus, while accepting that we need them, we should at the same time start to think about why we should overthrow them. We have to ask ourselves who profits most from these so-called ethical principles or rules of professional conduct. It is most often the commissioner, the representative of the expert and/or the majority community. It is much less the client from the minority or migrant

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community. The clients who are powerless, without status and knowledge even only because they are speechless, would be much more interested in an interpreter who is an advocate and a broker. Yet even this simple division does not work so easily: even the clients would want the interpreter to be loyal, partial, siding, helping, assisting, caring, comforting only for them—and not for the medical doctor, the social worker, the teacher, the psychotherapist, the policeman, etc.—i.e. the other party. Thus what remains to the interpreter is the ethics and the politics of the Third, the position in-between, the position of the Stranger.

Notes 1. I am currently in the midst of writing a proposal for a research project, with which I will try to connect approaches from qualitative research with my conceptual framework presented next. For this text, the focus lies on the politics, ethics and pedagogy of interpreting. 2. An earlier version of this paper was presented as a lecture with the title ‘The (community) interpreter as ethnographer: The irresistible entanglement between interpreting ethics, politics and pedagogy’ on 18/2/2015 within the Joint Seminar Series Translation Studies Research 2014–2015 at Herriot Watt University in Edinburgh. 3. Cf. www.sprachundintegrationsmittler.org and www.spuk.info/. 4. I am trying to reread ethical codes for conference, court and medical interpreters as political programs and statements rather than sets of ethical rules in my contribution with the title Codes of Ethics for Interpreters: Political rather than ethical? to the panel Re-Thinking Translation and Politics (directed by Brian Baer and Dilek Dizdar) at the EST Congress 2016 (15–17 September 2016). 5. Georg Simmel is one of the founders of modern Sociology. His work from 1908 was reprinted and translated multiple times and continues to influence generations of sociologists. 6. The figure of the Third opens a new paradigm in Kulturwissenschaften [cultural studies] according to Koschorke, who describes how classical Western thinking evolved around binary oppositions and how the Third as an actor had been forced to stay off stage until the twentieth century (2010: 9). The volume Die Figur des Dritten. Ein kulturwissenschaftliches Paradigma (2010) includes very interesting contributions showing how the figure of the Third in Simmel’s endeavour to establish a theoretical framework for the emergence of society and social structures effects theoretical approaches to triadic relationships in other disciplines like cultural studies. As I mentioned before, in translation and interpreting studies we do have a certain amount of research conducted concentrating on the function and the significance of the interpreter/translator as a third party. It would though be desirable to develop theoretical categories and methodological tools for the description and discussion of the interactions and relationships of the Third. 7. The basis for these arguments is my experience as community interpreting practitioner, researcher, trainer and examiner in various community interpreting education and certification programs for nearly 20 years now. I have conducted interviews with semi-professional medical interpreters in a hospital many years ago for my PhD thesis. Some results are presented in Bahadır (2007). As a trainer and coach I always work with scenarios basing on the experiences of the participants of my seminars. My seminars include parts of interviews in

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which we share our experiences and discuss alternative solutions. I do intend to include these experiences into future field studies and publications. 8. In 2013, an area of specialization (Studienschwerpunkt) was established within the framework of the general MA Translation at the Department for Intercultural German Studies, Faculty of Translation Studies, Linguistics and Cultural Studies at the University of Mainz in Germersheim called Interpreting in Medical, Social and Institutional Fields (Fachdolmetschen in sozialen, medizinischen und behördlichen Einsatzbereichen). The establishment of this area of specialization was accompanied by a research project for the development of the necessary teaching methods and designs (“Dolmetschen als Inszenierung”, cf. www.fb06.uni-mainz.de/deutsch/659.php.) For two years, I had the opportunity to further develop and adapt to the needs of academic interpreter education a method (Dolmetschinszenierungen—interpreting enactments) which I had started to conceptualize and apply in interpreter trainings for migrants and refugees outside the academia since the end of the 1990s. 9. The full title of the project is Die Triade im medizinischen Beratungs- und Behandlungsgespräch mit nichtdeutschsprachigen Patienten—Kooperative und interaktive Lehre für Studierende der Medizin, der Pharmazie und des Studienschwerpunkts Fachdolmetschen and the course is entitled Patientengespräche im interkulturellen und interdisziplinären Kontext. We are going to design a web page for the project this summer. There will be a link at the web page of the previous project Dolmetschen als Inszenierung—ein neuer kritischer und emanzipatorischer Ansatz in der Dolmetschdidaktik. 10. Interpreting enactments can be seen as a method within a paradigm in interpreting pedagogy that has just started to lead to a large body of papers stressing multimodal analysis in research on actual instances of interpreting as well as situations in interpreter education (e.g. contributions in Davitti and Pasquandrea 2014).

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Göhring, Heinz (1980) Deutsch als Fremdsprache und interkulturelle Kommunikation. In A. Wierlacher (ed.) Fremdsprache Deutsch 1. Grundlagen und Verfahren der Germanistik als Fremdsprachenphilologie. Band 1. München: Wilhelm Fink Verlag, 70–90. Göhring, Heinz (2002) Interkulturelle Kommunikation. Anregungen für Sprachund Kulturmittler. Tübingen: Stauffenburg. Han, Soonghee (2008) Competence: Commodification of human ability. Asia Pacific Education Review 9(1): 31–39. Harris, Brian (1977) The importance of natural translation. Working Papers on Bilingualism 12: 96–114. Hirschauer, Stephan (2001) Ethnographisches Schreiben und die Schweigsamkeit des Sozialen. Zu einer Methodologie der Beschreibung. Zeitschrift für Soziologie 30: 429–451. Hirschauer, Stephan, Hoffmann, Annika and Stange, Annkathrin (2015) Paarinterviews als teilnehmende Beobachtung. Präsente Abwesende und zuschauende DarstellerInnen im Forschungsgespräch. Forum Qualitative Sozialforschung 16(3): Art. 30. Inghilleri, Moira (2012) Interpreting Justice: Ethics, Politics and Language. New York: Routledge. Kiraly, Don (2013) Towards a view of translator competence as an emergent phenomenon: Thinking outside the box(es) in translator education. In D. Kiraly, S. Hansen-Schirra and K. Maksymski (eds.) New Prospects and Perspectives for Educating Language Mediators. Tübingen: Narr Verlag, 197–224. Koschorke, Albrecht (2010) Ein neues Paradigma der Kulturwissenschaften. In H. von Eva Eßlinger, T. Schlechtriemen, D. Schweitzer and A. Zons (eds.) Die Figur des Dritten, 9–31. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Mason, Ian (ed.) (2001) Triadic Exchanges: Studies in Dialogue Interpreting. Manchester: St. Jerome. Metzger, Melanie (1999) Sign Language Interpreting: Deconstructing the Myth of Neutrality. Washington: Gallaudet University Press. Pachego Aguilar, Raquel (2015) Dekonstruktionen der translatorischen Kompetenz. Paper at the Conference Translation/Interpreting Teaching and the Bologna Process: Pathways Between Unity and Diversity. Sixth International Symposium on Teaching Translation and Interpreting, Germersheim, 27–29 November 2015. Perez, Isabelle A. and Wilson, Christine W. L. (2007) Interpreter-mediated police interviews: Working as a professional team. In C. Wadensjö, B. Englund Dimitrova and A.-L. Nilsson (eds.) The Critical Link 4: Professionalisation in the Community. Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 79–93. Pinzker, Inge (2015) Die Dolmetscherin als Mensch zu sehen, das muss man auch üben: Dolmetschvermittelte Personzentrierte Psychotherapie mit Flüchtlingen. Master thesis Donau Universität Krems, Department für Psychotherapie und Psychosoziale Gesundheit. Pöchhacker, Franz (2000) Dolmetschen, Konzeptionelle Grundlagen und Descriptive Untersuchungen. Tübingen: Stauffenburg Verlag. Pöchhacker, Franz (2004) Introducing Interpreting Studies. New York: Routledge. Pöllabauer, Sonja (2005) I Don’t Understand Your English, Miss! Dolmetschen bei Asylanhörungen. Tübingen: Gunter Narr Verlag. Quental, Raffaella de Filippis (1997) Der Übersetzer als Engel oder Teufel: Die Schicksale einer Metapher von Rónai bis Derrida. In M. Wolf (ed.) Übersetzungswissenschat in Brasilien. Beiträge zum Status von Original und Übersetzung. Tübingen: Stauffenburg Verlag, 51–62. Rabinow, Paul (1977) Reflections on Fieldwork in Marocco. Berkeley: University of California Press. Rudvin, Mette (2002) How neutral is neutral? Issues in interaction and participation in community interpreting. In G. Garzone and M. Viezzi (eds.) Perspectives

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on Interpreting: Papers From the First Forli Conference on Interpreting Studies. Bologna: CLUEB, 217–234. Rudvin, Mette (2015) Interpreting and professional identity. In H. Mikkelson and R. Jourdenais (eds.) The Routledge Handbook of Interpreting. London: Routledge. Salling Olesen, Henning (2013) Beyond the current political economy of competence development. European Journal for Research on the Education and Learning of Adults 4(2): 153–170. Schechner, Richard (1985) Between Theater and Anthropology. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Schechner, Richard (2003) Performance Theory (Routledge Classics). New York: Routledge. Shlesinger, Miriam (2008) Gray Goes With the Territory: Certainties and Uncertainties in Public Service Interpreting. www.translationconcepts.org/pdf/Miriam_ Shlesinger_presentation.pdf (accessed 20 February 2016). Simmel, Georg (1908) Soziologie. Untersuchungen über die Formen der Vergesellschaftung. Duncker and Humblot, Berlin, Auflage. www.socio.ch/sim/soziologie/ soz_2.htm (accessed 31 December 2016). Tate, Granville and Turner, Graham (1997) The code and the culture: Sign language interpreting—In search of a new breed’s ethics. Deaf Worlds 13(3): 27–34. Toury, Gideon (1986) Natural translation and the making of a native translator. TEXTconTEXT 1: 11–29. Wadensjö, Cecilia (1998/2013) Interpreting as Interaction. New York: Routledge. Washbourne, Kelly (2013) Ethical Experts-in-training: Connected learners and the moral imagination. In D. Kiraly, S. Hansen-Schirra and K. Maksymski (eds.) New Prospects and Perspectives for Educating Language Mediators. Tübingen: Narr Verlag, 35–52.

Part III

Norms and Quality in Changing Professional Practices

7

Self-Awareness, Norms and Constraints Dealing with Metaphors in Interpreter-Mediated Press Conferences Christina Schäffner

1.

Introduction

Although Translation Studies is still a relatively young discipline, it has seen enormous progress and has developed from an initial sub-discipline of Applied Linguistics to an independent discipline in its own right and of an interdisciplinary nature. This development is linked to the conceptualization of translation, which was defined as meaning transfer in linguistics-based approaches in the 1950s/1960s (e.g. Jakobson 1959) but is now widely understood as socially contexted behaviour, following Cultural Studies and sociological approaches to translation (e.g. Venuti 1995; Wolf 2002). For researchers, this shift in the conceptualization of translation also meant a change in the research methods: from a comparison of language systems to see how equivalence between source language and target language messages can be established, to an investigation of translators’ behaviour in socio-cultural settings and of the factors which impact such behaviour and the effects. Such a characterisation of translation as socially contexted behaviour requires an explanation of the socio-cultural constraints which determine translators’ behaviour. In this respect, the concept of norms has been instrumental (Toury 1995). This notion of norms has more frequently been made use of in researching translation, and less so in researching interpreting. Interpreting, too, is socially contexted behaviour, and an interpreter’s performance is also influenced by expectations their clients and their audience have. In addition, interpreters themselves have expectations concerning their performance, in terms of the quality of the output and interactional strategies. This includes a fair level of self-monitoring, self-awareness, and self-assessment, including awareness of their own professional status. This chapter will reflect on interpreters’ self-awareness and monitoring at high-level events: international press conferences with politicians. The focus of the analysis will be on metaphors, and three related questions will be asked: (1) How do simultaneous interpreters deal with metaphors? (2) Do metaphors require a higher cognitive effort of interpreters? (3) Can interpreters’

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strategies in dealing with metaphors be seen as evidence of norms? In the first section, a brief overview of research into metaphor in translation will be provided, summarising the findings and open questions resulting from process studies. In the next section, interpreters’ procedures and strategies will be illustrated as identified in political press conferences involving English and German as source and target languages. The concluding section will try to answer the third research question by reflecting on the findings in respect of norms and self-awareness.

2. 2.1

Metaphor in Translation From ‘Can’ via ‘Should’ to ‘Is’ in Translation and Metaphor Research

The development of Translation Studies is also reflected in the research questions which scholars asked. For a long time, the debate centred on issues of translatability—i.e. is translation possible at all if language systems differ? When translation became an object of research in the 1950s, scholars were concerned with producing typologies of equivalence and translation procedures as principles to guide translator training and translation practice. With the emergence of system-based approaches in the 1980s, descriptive analyses came to replace the prescriptive ones, with scholars studying what translations actually look like. We see a parallel development in respect of metaphor, which also started with questioning the translatability of metaphor (e.g. Dagut 1976). Scholars were asking: can metaphor be translated? Can it be transferred into another language without any loss? Later on, the question changed to how can, or even, should metaphor be translated? Based on the identification of linguistic and cultural differences, more or less extensive categories of translation procedures (alternatively labelled translation methods, or strategies) were presented to be used as guidelines (e.g. Newmark 1981). The most frequently suggested procedures can be summarised as follows: (1) metaphor into same metaphor (2) metaphor into different metaphor (3) metaphor into sense (paraphrase, shift to a non-figurative equivalent) Most of these typologies are based on an identification of metaphor in the source text, which is treated as a problem for which a solution has to be found. Examples provided were often derived on the basis of comparisons of isolated linguistic units (and thus were more of a speculative nature). Scholars working within the paradigm of Descriptive Translation Studies analysed authentic translations to identify how metaphor had actually been translated. From the perspective of the target text, Toury (1995: 81ff.) identified two additional cases: the use of a metaphor in the target

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text for a non-metaphorical expression in the source text (metaphor for non-metaphor), and the addition of a metaphor in the target text without any linguistic motivation in the source text (metaphor for zero). Complete omission (metaphor into zero) is another procedure as identified, for example, by Saltalamacchia (2014). The theoretical basis for the development of such typologies was the more traditional view of metaphor as a figurative expression. In the last two decades, conceptual theories of metaphor (mainly the theoretical framework as first proposed by Lakoff and Johnson 1980) have become more widely used in Translation Studies research (e.g. Stienstra 1993; Schäffner 2004; Miller and Monti 2014). Conceptual theories describe metaphors as basic resources for thought processes in human society, as mappings of more abstract target domains to more concrete source domains (resulting in conceptual metaphors such as ARGUMENT IS WAR).1 Individual linguistic expressions (e.g. ‘he attacked my statement’, ‘I defended my opinion’) are sanctioned by this conceptual metaphor. Some studies that take a conceptual metaphor perspective have also presented lists of translation procedures, which are significantly different from the traditional ones. For example, based on the analysis of English translations of Arabic political speeches, Al-Harrasi (2001) suggested a very extensive list which includes procedures such as Instantiating the Same Conceptual Metaphor (with sub-procedures such as Concretising an Image Schematic Metaphor, or Same Mapping but a Different Perspective), Using a Different Conceptual Metaphor, and Deletion of the Expression of the Metaphor (Al-Harrasi 2001: 277–288). 2.2

Product Versus Process Analysis

The methods used in such studies indicated earlier have mainly been descriptive analyses of source texts and their authentic translations or, sometimes, comparisons of different translations of the same source text into various target languages (e.g. Tcaciuc 2012; Shuttleworth 2014). In other words, these studies are predominantly product-based analyses. The product—i.e. the target text—is, however, the result of cognitive processes. By looking only at the product we can thus at best speculate about the process that led up to it. Moreover, the translator’s decision making happens in a specific socio-cultural context, performed for specific purposes and addressees, and also influenced by the individual translator’s personality traits (cf. the concept of multiple causality in Brownlie 2003). Research into translation processes has tried to understand what happens in the ‘black box’ of the translator’s mind. Investigations conducted so far, and usually in experimental settings, have employed think-aloud protocols, keystroke logging, and eye-tracking, sometimes in combination. However, only very few of such process studies were exclusively devoted to investigating metaphor in translation. I will now briefly summarise some of these studies and the methods they employed (see also Schäffner and Shuttleworth 2013).

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Think-aloud protocols (TAPs) are records of translators’ verbalisations while they are carrying out a translation task. Their analysis is an effort to reveal the mental processes in real time. TAPs have been used for addressing metaphors for example by Tirkkonen-Condit (2001, 2002). She tested Mandelblit’s Cognitive Translation Hypothesis which assumes that metaphorical expressions take more time and are more difficult to translate if they exploit a different cognitive domain. She asked professional translators to translate an English source text into Finnish and measured the time and the length of TAP segments, counted the number of lines of target text produced, and also asked the translators to comment on their own satisfaction with their translations. For example, the metaphorical expression ‘to be out of one’s depth’ is linked to the conceptual domain of a vertical dimension. There is no immediate Finnish equivalent, and the rendition as—in back translation into English—‘not to have a clue’ indicates the domain of detective work, which means a change in the conceptual metaphor. Translating this metaphorical expression took longer, led to more verbalisation in the TAPs, and to the generation of more potential translation solutions. The conclusions drawn from these studies were that the search for another conceptual domain causes delay in the translation process, and that the related uncertainty is evidence of concept mediation, and thus verification of the Cognitive Translation Hypothesis. Keystroke logging is a method of capturing each key struck on a computer while producing a translation. Jakobsen, Jensen and Mees (2007) used the software Translog to measure processing time and found that metaphorical idiomatic expressions in the source text slowed down the translation process. Combining Translog with retrospective interviews with five professional translators, Kussmaul (2003) noticed that the subjects differed enormously in their performance, opting for diverse solutions for rendering the metaphorical expressions. In the retrospective interviews, they gave various explanations for their translation decisions, commenting on their awareness of the translation skopos, their overall vision of the emerging target text, intratextual coherence, and stylistic considerations. This result made Kussmaul conclude that there are several variables in the translation process. Eye-tracking also requires translators to work at a computer and software monitors eye movement between source text and target text, gaze patterns, fixation time, pupil dilation, etc. The basic assumption in addressing metaphors via eye-tracking is that there is a correlation between the time readers fixate on a word and the amount of processing that takes place. This led Sjørup to formulate the hypothesis that “translators dwell longer over the processing complexities involved in translating a metaphor than a non-metaphorical concept” (Sjørup 2008: 53). In her experiment, she identified longer fixation times for metaphors and concluded that metaphors are more cognitively effortful to translate than literal expressions. In a later study, she combined eye-tracking with keystroke logging to test whether

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“the choice of translation strategy would have an effect on the cognitive effort involved in metaphor translation, and hence an effect on the gaze times” (Sjørup 2011: 201). She identified a higher cognitive load for the translation strategy metaphor into paraphrase and argued that this was due to two shifts involved: a shift from one domain to another, and a shift from metaphorical expressions to literal ones. In her 2013 study, however, she found that this strategy metaphor into paraphrase, although linked to longer production time, is not more cognitively effortful than using the direct metaphorical equivalent. Using a different metaphorical phrase required the longest production time and was also the least preferred translation procedure (Sjørup 2013). Translation process research has thus led scholars to conclude that metaphors indeed seem to be linked to greater cognitive load. Using both eye-tracking and key-logging methods also allowed to study comprehension and production as two distinct stages of the translation process. There was also evidence that thought processes are often triggered by metaphorical expressions and the initial attempt to provide a direct metaphorical equivalent in the target language, which seems to suggest that translating metaphor into the same metaphor is indeed the default procedure. However, there are also a number of open questions as well as findings for which a firm explanation has not yet been found. For example, what exactly triggers the translator’s need to access the conceptual level in real translation events? (How) would it be possible to determine how the cognitive load is distributed between metaphor interpretation, the choice of a translation procedure, and target text production? Could pauses in typing and longer gaze time be due to a translator reflecting on consequences of local decisions for the overall function of the text? And what about metaphor in interpreting? This question will be addressed in the next section.

2.

Metaphor in Interpreting

How interpreters deal with metaphor in interpreting is a largely under-researched topic. A search in the online Benjamins Translation Studies Bibliography (https://benjamins.com/online/tsb/) showed only 42 results for ‘metaphor and interpret*’ (e.g. Rudvin 2004; Beaton 2007) compared to 235 results for ‘metaphor and translat*’.2 Questions to explore include: Do metaphors pose specific problems for interpreters? Do they require more cognitive effort? Are the problems and solutions different in consecutive and simultaneous interpreting? How can we conduct research in order to find answers to these questions? In view of the nature of interpreting (online and mostly on-site for simultaneous interpreting), there are limitations to process studies. Shlesinger (2000) commented on some of the “methodological bugbears” scholars would need to take into account in the “quest to find out more about how the interpreting process really works” (Shlesinger 2000: 4). Keystroke logging is impossible because of the oral rendition, TAPs are not

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possible since interpreters cannot produce an oral language output and comment on their decisions at the same time, and eye-tracking cannot be based on gaze and fixation on source text and target text (although where, exactly, interpreters are looking could be tested; see also Seeber 2013 on possibilities of pupillometry for measuring cognitive load in simultaneous interpreting). Conducting retrospective interviews with interpreters is possible, although these will not provide immediate access to the actual cognitive processes. There are also constraints in respect of the ecological validity of research methods (e.g. equipping interpreters with eye-tracking devices is invasive) as well as legal and ethical issues (e.g. access to public service interpreting settings). This chapter is an attempt at contributing some preliminary insights into issues of metaphor in interpreting. These insights, however, are limited due to the focus on simultaneous interpreting and one particular setting: interpreter-mediated press conferences. 2.1

Corpus and Method

Political press conferences are an example of institutionalized forms of political discourse which bring politicians and journalists together. Joint press conferences with foreign visitors are frequently interpreted, either simultaneously or consecutively. They start with statements by the politicians, and are normally followed by questions and answers. Usually two interpreters are involved, with each of them assigned to one of the politicians. In my ongoing research into political discourse in translation, press conferences form an integral part of the corpus (in addition to political speeches, interviews, journalistic texts) and I have analysed them from various perspectives (Schäffner 2012a, 2012b, 2015a, 2015b). For the purpose of this chapter, I have specifically looked for metaphors in a sample of interpreted press conferences to investigate how interpreters deal with them. This sample comprises press conferences which the German Chancellor Merkel had with U.S. President Obama and the UK Prime Minister Cameron, respectively. The texts are thus in German and English, and the interpreters worked in the simultaneous mode. The corpus is made up of transcripts of the press conferences in the two languages as they were made available on the websites of the respective governments, supplemented by the video recordings, if available. The availability of transcripts and video recordings facilitates research on authentic interpreting corpora, although they are not a “mirror reflection of reality” (Diriker 2008: 215). The transcripts and recordings were analysed in order to categorise interpreters’ procedures in dealing with metaphors and in order to establish whether particular features can be identified as signalling a potentially higher cognitive load. The comparative analysis of the transcripts is, in fact, a product analysis. As I have illustrated elsewhere (e.g. Schäffner 2012b), different governments have different practices and underlying values. Whereas the transcripts on the website of the U.S. Administration are normally complete records of the

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interaction, including metacommunicative comments, those on the website of the German government have undergone some revision (e.g. omission of metacommunicative comments, stylistic enhancement), normally performed by civil servants. Watching the video recordings gives access to the voices of the politicians and the interpreters and thus makes it possible to identify the changes to the transcripts. However, there are also limitations to this method since the interpreters are not visible and not all of their renderings are audible. For example, at an interpreter-mediated press conference between President Obama and Chancellor Merkel held in Washington, the video recording allows us to hear Obama’s voice in English, but not the interpreting into German, and we hear the interpreter’s rendering of Merkel’s words into English, with Merkel’s own voice hardly audible in the background. The examples illustrated next are the result of a qualitative analysis. Since this is a preliminary study into metaphor in interpreting, any attempt at quantifying the findings would be premature and only speculative

2.2

Interpreters’ Procedures in Dealing with Metaphor

A comparative analysis of the transcripts was conducted manually as a first step in order to identify the procedures interpreters used in rendering metaphors. Both source and target texts were analysed side by side and metaphorical expressions in both texts were underlined, thus avoiding a purely source-centred approach. The focus was on the metaphorical expressions in the texts, although an attempt was made to link them to a relevant conceptual metaphor. No particular typology has been used for labelling the interpreting procedures. Process research into metaphor in translation has suggested that metaphor into the same metaphor seems to be the default procedure. In my corpus, there are also a large number of examples which show that the interpreter opted for a direct metaphorical equivalent to the expression in the source text (I use ‘source text’ and ‘target text’ for convenience here, although I am aware that these labels are problematic for interpreting). Extract (1) is an illustration of this procedure (the metaphorical expressions are in italics3): (1) we want to do more trade deals with all the corners of the globe. Wir wollen unsere Handelsbeziehungen in alle Ecken der Welt ausdehnen. [Literal translation: We want to expand our trade deals to all corners of the world.] (Cameron—Merkel 27/02/2014, London4) Interpreters often opted for the same metaphorical expression in the case of conceptual metaphors of movement (POLITICS IS MOVING ALONG A

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PATH) and construction (POLITICS IS BUILDING), as can be seen in the following extracts: (2) We’ve both taken steps to pay down our debts, dass wir Schritte unternehmen, um die Schulden abzubezahlen [Literal translation: that we take steps to pay off the debts] (Cameron—Merkel 07/01/2015, London) (3) dass wir gemeinsame Werte und ein gemeinsames Fundament haben. [Literal translation: that we have common values and a common foundation] This shows that we have firm values that we share, a firm foundation on which we stand. (Cameron—Merkel 07/01/2015, London) In authentic texts, movement and construction metaphors are often combined and mixed (see also Kimmel 2010). In extract (4), the interpreter rendered the movement metaphor “in Gang gesetzt” (literally: ‘set into motion’) as “laid down as a foundation”, thus producing (deliberately?) a more coherent text. (4) Zum Teil bauen wir auf dem auf, was die Präsidentschaften vor uns— unter anderem auch die von David Cameron—in Gang gesetzt haben [Literal translation: Partly we are building on what the presidencies before us, including the one of David Cameron, set into motion.] We’re building up on what you, David, laid down as a foundation: (Cameron—Merkel 07/01/2015, London) Turning a somewhat incoherent source text into a more coherent target text was also mentioned as one of the reasons for translators’ decisions in Kussmaul (2003). In some instances, the interpreter extended the metaphor, as in (5), where the noun “Beginn” (‘beginning’) was elaborated. (5) das war heute ein wichtiger Beginn dafür. Ich glaube, das wird uns alle weiter bringen [Literal translation: this was an important beginning today. I believe this will bring us all forward] And I think today was an important first step in the right direction, and I think it has brought us forward (Merkel—Obama 19/06/2013, Berlin) The corpus also has examples of metaphorisation (i.e. using a metaphor in the target text for a non-metaphorical expression in the source text, as in extracts 6 and 7, with “nichts unversucht lassen”, meaning ‘leave nothing unattempted’ being non-metaphorical, and the metaphorical expression

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“put all the cards on the table” being added to the non-metaphorical “pros and cons”) and demetaphorisation (i.e. using a non-metaphorical expression in the target text for a metaphor in the source text, as in extract 8, with “positiv wirken”, meaning ‘act in a positive way’, being non-metaphorical). (6) man darf auch nichts unversucht lassen [Literal translation: we must leave nothing unattempted] we must leave no stone unturned in trying (Merkel—Obama 19/06/2013, Berlin) (7) ich bin sehr froh, dass wir auch gegenüber dem amerikanischen Präsidenten alles an Pro und Kontra benennen können [Literal translation: I am very happy that with the American President we can address all pros and cons] with the American President, I have always been able to put all of the cards on the table and discuss the pros and cons (Obama—Merkel 09/02/2015, Washington) (8) reaching out to the Russians to encourage them to take that door while it’s still open. sie hat versucht, sich auch an die Russen zu wenden, um positiv wirken zu können. [Literal translation: She has tried to approach the Russians too in order to act in a positive way] (Obama—Merkel 02/05/2014, Washington) Of particular interest are those cases where the interpreter opted for a different linguistic expression compared to the one in the source text, but with both expressions reflecting an instantiation of the same conceptual metaphor, such as POLITICS IS MOVEMENT (in extract 9, specified as movement of a ship in water: “im Fahrwasser” meaning ‘in a fairway’), and A COUNTRY IS A HOME (in extract 10 with “Nachbarschaft” meaning ‘neighbourhood’). Extract (11) illustrates different images for starting a sporting event (i.e. “Startschuss” is firing a pistol for a race, and “kick off” applies to football). At a higher level, both are related to the conceptual metaphor POLITICS IS MOVEMENT. (9) dass sich die britische Wirtschaft in einem guten Fahrwasser befindet. [Literal translation: that the British economy is in a fairway] shows that we are on a very good track. (Cameron—Merkel 07/01/2015, London) (10) what happens next door in Ukraine was in der Nachbarschaft beziehungsweise in der Ukraine passiert. [Literal translation: what happens in the neighbourhood and in Ukraine, respectively]. (Obama—Merkel 02/05/2014, Washington)

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(11) Es war auf dem G7-Gipfel in Großbritannien, als wir mit dem amerikanischen Präsidenten den Startschuss dafür gegeben haben, [Literal translation: It was at the G7 summit in Great Britain that we fired the starting pistol with the American President] we kicked this off during the G8 presidency—G7 presidency (Cameron—Merkel 07/01/2015, London) These procedures lead us to assume that interpreters do access the conceptual level in real events. However, this assumption cannot (yet) be convincingly proven, and nor do we know what exactly triggered this access. In the corpus I have also found a few examples where a metaphor in the source text was rendered by a different metaphor in the target text (e.g. in extract 12, with “Spaziergang” literally meaning ‘go for a walk’). (12) Das ist jetzt aber auch kein Spaziergang, das wird durchaus harte Arbeit sein. [Literal translation: This now is not going for a walk, this will be hard work.] It’s not a piece of cake. It’s going to be a lot of work. (Cameron—Merkel 27/02/2014, London) Overall, however, there are not many examples of the procedure metaphor into different metaphor in the present corpus. Examples which at a first glance might look as reflecting different metaphors can also be interpreted as different perspectives or entailments of the same conceptual metaphor. For example, “working flat out” in (13), emphasises the physical effort and “rund um die Uhr” (‘working around the clock’) the time. Working for a very long time leads to exhaustion, and this example could thus be seen as a case of source text and target text representing different functional aspects of the same image schema (cf. Al-Harrasi 2001). (13) They’re working flat out already sie arbeiten rund um die Uhr [Literal translation: they are working around the clock.] (Cameron—Merkel 07/01/2015, London) A first conclusion of the identification of interpreting procedures is that there do not seem to be major differences compared to translation procedures. But such a product-based analysis does not answer the question whether metaphors require more cognitive effort. In order to get closer to an answer, the product analysis needs to be supplemented by a process analysis.

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Higher Cognitive Load?

As a second step in my analysis, I again started from the transcripts, trying to find answers to the questions: Are there specific features in interpreter-mediated discourse that signal a higher cognitive load for metaphors? Are there any specific strategies interpreters use for coping with cognitive load caused by metaphors? Strategies identified which might indicate a particular cognitive load are lengthening, doubling (i.e. providing the same information twice), and hedging, which will be illustrated next. When I noticed instances of such potential coping strategies in the transcripts, I then watched the video recordings of the press conferences to see whether any additional features in the interpreters’ performance could be identified which might signal higher cognitive load.5 A few examples of these strategies will be discussed next. Extracts (14 and 15) illustrate lengthening—i.e. the interpreter’s rendition is longer since it expands on the formulation in the source text. (14) und diese Währungsunion in ihrer Architektur auch so stabilisieren, dass daraus eine Krisenresistenz wird, das heißt, dass zukünftige Krisen nicht jedes Mal den Euro in Schwierigkeiten bringen[Literal translation: and stabilise the monetary union in its architecture in such a way that it becomes a crisis resistency—i.e. that future crises won’t bring difficulties for the euro.] that this monetary union is stabilised by them in such a way that we turn this into a resilient architecture, one that does not immediately sit—one that wards off future crisis for the euro because that is what we all need for stable, growing economies. (Cameron—Merkel 27/02/2014, London) The lengthening seemed to be caused by the German word “Krisenresistenz”, which is not a highly frequent word outside discourse on economy. Moreover, “Krisenresistenz” is used in close vicinity to other metaphorical expressions: “Architektur” (‘architecture’) and “stabilisieren” (‘stabilise’). The German source text reflects conceptual metaphors of construction and health which are interrelated (THE EURO-ZONE IS A BUILDING, STABILITY IS HEALTH), which are present in the interpreter’s rendering as well. The transcript also records an interruption in the interpreting and a restart (“does not immediately sit—one that wards off”). If we listen attentively to the video recording, we notice a generally fluent rendering with very few short pauses and/or vocalised hesitations (e.g. we hear “stabilised by them in such a way [.] that uhm we turn this”). In the sequence with the restart there is another short pause and hesitation markers (“not immediately sit [..] uhm uhm one that wards off”). These phenomena might signal that the interpreter was reflecting on the term “Krisenresistenz”, but since

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we cannot hear Merkel’s voice, it is impossible to say how much time lag there was compared to the original speech. In (15) we also notice a restart indicated in the transcript to (“approach an—the matters”), and also an addition in comparison to the German one. (15) Wir teilen die gemeinsame Überzeugung, dass wir in Afghanistan einen Ansatz der vernetzten Sicherheit brauchen, einen politischen und militärischen Ansatz. Wir haben gesagt [. . .] [Literal translation: We share the common conviction that in Afghanistan we need an approach of networked security, a political and military approach. We have said . . .] We share the opinion that in Afghanistan we wish to approach an— the matters in the sense of an integrated security approach, a network security approach. It was said we want to build up not only the military side of it, but the civil side of it. (Obama—Merkel 07/06/2011, Washington) The interpreter had initially transformed the German noun “Ansatz” (‘approach’) into a verbal structure, but when she realised that “Ansatz” was modified by a subsequent genitive structure (“Ansatz der vernetzten Sicherheit”—‘approach of networked security’), she interrupted her rendering, produced a new version with “approach” as a noun and added “the matters” which led to a grammatically correct utterance. When we listen to the interpreter in the video recording, we can hear that she had started to say the word ‘integrated’ (we can hear “to approach an inte [.] uhm the matters”). She stopped in the middle of uttering “integrated”, followed by a very short pause and a hardly audible “uhm” when she realised that a change in the syntactic structure was needed. This example thus reflects that the interpreter was closely monitoring her own performance. This self-monitoring and self-correction also apply to the metaphorical expression in this extract, as can be seen in the interpreter’s addition of “a network security approach”. This addition resulted in a version which is closer to the original German text. The lengthening, however, also led to a restructuring of information in that the phrase “einen politischen und militärischen Ansatz” (‘a political and military approach’) became a full new sentence (“It was said we want to build up not only the military side of it, but the civil side of it.”). The somewhat peculiar “it was said” is a signal that the interpreter was trying to keep up with Merkel’s speech, in which the following sentence starts with “wir haben gesagt” (‘we have said’). The self-correction and lengthening then made the interpreter increase her delivery speed, which also led to some omission and information condensation in the subsequent utterance. The lengthening in (15) can also be seen as a case of doubling—i.e. a repetition of the message by a different form, of which there are quite a number of cases in my corpus, as illustrated in (16) and (17).

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(16) We have at the same time offered a diplomatic approach that could resolve this issue. Wir haben zur gleichen Zeit eine diplomatische Vorgehensweise, einen diplomatischen Ansatz angeboten. [Literal translation: We have at the same time offered a diplomatic procedure, a diplomatic approach.] (Obama—Merkel 02/05/2014, Washington) (17) welche unterschiedlichen Sichtweisen wir gegebenenfalls haben. [Literal translation: which different perspectives we may have] it will come out very clearly what differences of opinion there are, what different perspectives there are. (Obama—Merkel 02/05/2014, Washington) In each case, the two versions used by the interpreter (“Vorgehensweise” and “Ansatz”, and “procedure” and “approach”) are synonyms, with the second one the more immediate lexical correspondent to the original word. However, there are also examples of doubling in my corpus, where the second option does not resemble the form of the original message more closely, as in (18–21). (18) And Chancellor Merkel, could I ask you, is it true you think of David Cameron as a naughty nephew who you’d like to help? Frau Bundeskanzlerin, sehen Sie David Cameron sozusagen als den frechen Neffen, als das schwarze Schaf an, dem Sie gerne helfen möchten? [Literal translation: Madam Chancellor, do you think of David Cameron as the naughty nephew, as it were, as the black sheep whom you wish to help?] (Cameron—Merkel 27/02/2014, London) (19) Das Internet ist für uns alle Neuland, [Literal translation: The Internet is a new territory to all of us.] The Internet is new territory, uncharted territory to all of us. (Merkel—Obama 19/06/2013, Berlin) (20) denn wir betreten ja alle Neuland [Literal translation: since we all enter a new territory] because we’re all breaking new ground. These are unchartered waters (Obama—Merkel 07/06/2011, Washington) (21) I think people on both sides of the Atlantic are understandably frustrated with the ups and downs of the economy, the world economy Das ist durchaus verständlich, denn es gibt Hochs und Tiefs; gerade was die Weltwirtschaft betrifft, gibt es enorme Schwankungen. [Literal translation: This is understandable since there are highs and lows; in particular in the world economy, there are enormous fluctuations.] (Obama—Merkel 07/06/2011, Washington)

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These extracts include idiomatic expressions which are of a metaphorical nature. In (18), the idiom was initially rendered literally with the addition of a metacommunicative “sozusagen” (‘as it were’), and then replaced by the more idiomatic “das schwarze Schaf” (‘the black sheep’). Similarly in (19), whereas “breaking new ground” in (20) is already an idiomatic rendering, with the added “unchartered waters” reflecting a different image (water instead of land). For (18), we cannot hear the interpreting into German. In both (19) and (20), the interpreter speaks very fluently, with no noticeable pauses and no vocalised hesitations (like ‘uhm’) audible. For extract (21) we can watch the video but we cannot hear the interpreting into German. In the video, we can see that Obama is making a gesture, moving his left hand to the right as if indicating a steps, when he says “the ups and downs of the economy”—i.e. a gesture of a more horizontal than vertical movement. Although the interpreters are invisible in this video and we thus do not know where they were positioned, it might well be that the gesture inspired the interpreter to add the metaphorical expression “enorme Schwankungen” (‘enormous fluctuations’) to the more literal but also metaphorical “Hochs und Tiefs” (‘highs and lows’). Both lengthening and doubling take up time and signal cognitive effort, and at least in the earlier examples, they resulted in the interpreters opting for a metaphor in their solutions. Another strategy that signals cognitive effort is hedging, as illustrated in (22). (22) Wir sind uns beide gewiss, dass wir einen harten Wettbewerb mit den Schwellenländern der Welt führen [Literal translation: Both of us are sure that we are in a tough competition with the threshold countries of the world.] We are very much aware—very well aware of the fact—both of us, I think—that we are in a tough competition with the emerging economies. (Obama—Merkel 07/06/2011, Washington) In this case, the metaphorical expression “Schwellenländer” (‘threshold countries’) was paraphrased (“emerging economies”). However, it is impossible to state whether the hedging was caused by the interpreter trying to find an English metaphorical expression. In the video we again hear a very fluent rendering by the interpreter, with no noticeable pauses and no vocalised hesitations (the dashes in the transcript obtained from the U.S. government website do not signal pauses in this case but seem to have been added by revisers for stylistic reasons, cf. the comments on institutional practices in 2.1). Hedging is also noticeable for extract (12), but only if we listen to the interpreter’s rendition in the video recording. Before she utters “It’s not a piece of cake” there is a very short pause, followed by “it I mean” (that is, we can hear “[..] it I mean it’s not a piece of cake”).

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In her process studies into translation, Sjørup (2013) found that the procedure of rendering metaphor by paraphrase was linked to longer production time than metaphor into same metaphor, and that turning metaphor into a different metaphor required the longest production time. My preliminary analysis of the interpreting data does not lend support to this finding. There is no immediate correlation between the coping strategy (lengthening, doubling, hedging) and the procedure for dealing with metaphor. There is also no evidence that rendering metaphor by the same metaphor is the default procedure, as frequently stated in translation research. Moreover, there are examples of a combination of procedures, such as the following: Original: Metaphor—Interpreting: paraphrase—same metaphor (e.g. 15, 17) Original: Metaphor—Interpreting: literal rendering—different metaphor (e.g. 18, 19) Original: Metaphor—Interpreting: different metaphor—different metaphor (e.g. 20) Original: Metaphor—Interpreting: same metaphor—paraphrase (e.g. 21) Original: Non-metaphor—Interpreting: metaphor—literal rendering (e.g. 7, 16) Such combinations of procedures naturally result in more text. In a translation context, such combinations of procedures would not normally be visible in the final target text, although a Translog transcript can reveal deletions and replacements as signalling changes in the procedure chosen. TAPs can also reveal such changes as well as reasons for the translator’s decision. In contrast to processing time in translation, metaphorical expressions in the source text do not seem to slow down the interpreting process. A fluent and uninterrupted rendering on the part of the interpreter is what is expected of simultaneous interpreting. A combination of procedures in fact means longer production time of text, which may lead to higher cognitive load and potential omissions or compensation of information (as mentioned earlier for extract 15), and also in an increase in the delivery speed. However, why would interpreters combine procedures in dealing with metaphors? By comparing the source text formulation and the interpreters’ renditions, it seems that their main aim is to stay as close as possible to the original wording and at the same time produce a message which is meaningful to the audience. It can therefore be said that it is the interpreters’ self-monitoring of their performance which makes them opt for a second rendering (with this change reflected in the doubling) if they realise that the first choice was not close enough to the original formulation or not sufficiently idiomatic. Paraphrasing, in particular hedging, also provides additional ‘thinking time’ for interpreters (as confirmed by interpreters who work for the German chancellor, personal communication). Although the data allow us to conclude that lengthening, doubling, and hedging are strategies that interpreters use to cope with cognitive load, there

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is no clear evidence that it is indeed the metaphorical expression in the source text which causes a higher cognitive load. In fact, these three strategies are used by simultaneous interpreters more generally, at least in the context of press conferences and political interviews (the only genres that I have analysed more systematically; for examples which are not linked to metaphors see Schäffner 2012b). Opting for these strategies might also be caused by contextual factors, e.g. the physical position of the interpreters in relation to the speakers (see my comments for extract 21 on Obama’s gesture as potential motivation for the interpreter’s rendition). In the wider sense of context, the very nature of political press conferences (the high status of the politicians, potential sensitivity of topics, public performance in front of an audience of politicians and journalists) will have an impact on the interpreters and their strategies. Examples of lengthening and doubling were also identified by Matsushita (2015) in an interpreter-mediated press conference held by a Japanese politician. Matsushita comments that the interpreter had told her that she always opted for the corresponding solution first before adding “different translations so that I can satisfy everybody who might be listening” (Matsushita 2015: 159). This raises the question: if coping strategies such as lengthening, doubling, and hedging are used more widely in interpreting, can employing these strategies be seen as evidence of norms? This question will be addressed in the next section.

3.

Norms in Interpreting?

3.1

The Concept of Norms

The concept of norms was introduced in translation research in the 1980s by Gideon Toury in the framework of Descriptive Translation Studies which understands translation as socially contexted behaviour. This view puts emphasis on the socio-cultural context (the translation event) in which the act of translation—i.e. the cognitive aspects of translating as a decision-making process is embedded (Toury 1995: 249ff). The socio-cultural constraints which determine translators’ behaviour can be absolute rules, pure idiosyncracies, or norms as a graded continuum in between the two extremes. In general, norms express social notions of correctness or appropriateness—i.e. what a particular community regards as correct or proper at a particular time. The notion of translational norms then refers to regularities of translation behaviour within a specific socio-cultural context. As Toury (1999: 15) argues, the observed regularities themselves are not the norms, but rather “external evidence of the latter’s activity, from which the norms themselves [. . .] are still to be extracted”. If it is discovered that the majority of translators in a given culture at a given time indeed regularly opt for specific solutions because they assume this is what they are expected to do, then it may be concluded that the behaviour is governed by (a) norm(s). However, in order to speak

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of norms, regularities in translational behaviour will have to be discovered in a larger corpus of texts translated by different translators. Although the concept of norms has been used more widely in translation research, norms were seen as “a neglected factor in interpreting research” (Gile 1999: 98). As far back as in 1989, Shlesinger made an attempt to “pinpoint those factors which encumber both the formation and the extrapolation of norms for interpretation” (1989: 111). Although she assumed that interpreting would manifest regularities of behaviour that could be seen as norm-governed, she also commented on methodological obstacles to the extrapolation of norms: the small number of interpreters in a specific setting, the difficulty of creating a representative corpus, the evanescence of texts rendered orally, and rare availability of recordings of interpreting products. These factors indeed make it difficult to “tease apart the typical from the idiosyncratic” (Shlesinger 1999: 71). With the growth of Interpreting Studies, empirical research into actual behaviour of interpreters in given contexts (which extended the more traditional focus on cognitive constraints in conference interpreting) identified a number of practices which some scholars saw as norms, e.g., speaking in the first person, fidelity to the source text, being neutral and invisible (for examples see Gile 1999; Diriker 2008). With respect to conference interpreting, Shlesinger (2000: 6) comments that “the prevailing norm emphasizes fluency, and the primacy of meaning over form”. Zwischenberger (2015: 90) even speaks of a supernorm in simultaneous conference interpreting which “demands that interpreters passively channel a message from one side or party to the other”. She argues that these normative expectations are related to the traditional metaphorical concept of interpreters as conduits. Moreover, this supernorm is still promoted by professional bodies, such as the International Association of Conference Interpreters (AIIC), although recent empirical research into interpreters’ agency has challenged the image of the conduit (e.g. Diriker 2004). 3.2

Norms for Dealing With Metaphor? Norms for Interpreting at Press Conferences?

In my rather small and limited corpus, no regularities in the interpreters’ behaviour in dealing with metaphor could be identified. As I illustrated earlier, interpreters opted for a variety of procedures (same metaphorical expression, different metaphorical expression with or without change of the underlying conceptual metaphor, paraphrase, (de)metaphorisation). No systematicity in the approach could be detected, and therefore no operational norms for dealing with metaphors could be suggested. Fluency and the primacy of meaning over form, which Shlesinger (2000) described as the prevailing norms for conference interpreting, were noticed in my corpus as well, with fluency only detectable on the basis of the video recordings. Since simultaneous interpreting is also the most frequently mode

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employed at press conferences, it may be that fluency and primacy of meaning hold more generally for simultaneous interpreting, not only in the context of conference interpreting. Primacy of meaning over form, however, may need to be modified. As I have tried to illustrate, interpreters do aim at producing text which is meaningful and comprehensible to the audience (i.e. a target-centred strategy), but at the same time, they also try to stay close to the original words used by the speaker (i.e. a source-centred strategy). This attempt results in lengthening, doubling, and hedging. However, in the case of doubling, when an interpreter basically renders the message twice, it can be either the first lexical choice or the second one which is closer to the original wording, as illustrated earlier in respect of metaphors. That is, there is again no regularity in the behaviour which could justify speaking of a norm.

4.

Conclusions

This chapter has addressed metaphor in interpreting, and asked: How do interpreters deal with metaphor? Do metaphors require a higher cognitive effort? Can interpreters’ strategies be seen as evidence of norms? In respect of the first question, it was noticed that the procedures interpreters use do not differ from those we find in translation. There is, however, no evidence in my corpus that the default procedure is opting for the most immediate metaphorical expression. In some cases, the different linguistic expression chosen can still be seen as an instantiation of the same conceptual metaphor (e.g. extracts 9, 11, 13). What exactly triggers the need to access the conceptual level, however, is still an open question. In respect of the second question, there is no conclusive evidence to argue that metaphors do require a higher cognitive effort. Although lengthening, doubling, and hedging were identified as occurring in the context of metaphorical expressions, they do not stand out as particularly frequent for dealing with metaphors compared to other features. There is also no obvious correlation between the choice of a particular interpreting procedure and a coping strategy. Although opting for an expression that exploits a different cognitive domain than the one in the source text (as in extract 12) was combined with hedging (but only noticeable in the video), one example is not sufficient evidence to claim any correlation (nor does it confirm the Cognitive Translation Hypothesis). We did, however, see examples of combinations of procedures for dealing with metaphor, and these occurred above all as doubling. Since such combinations of procedures result in longer production time (as do lengthening and hedging), they are related to cognitive load. It is, however, difficult to say with certainty how this load is distributed between comprehension and production (or between listening and analysis, memory, production, and coordination as the four efforts in Gile’s 1997 Effort Model for simultaneous interpreting). Doubling, lengthening, and hedging occur as part of a fluent interpreting performance and do not give the impression of a higher cognitive load to the listener. Also,

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pauses are rare in simultaneous interpreting and, at least in my corpus, only rarely caused by metaphorical expressions. These statements also raise a methodological question: What constitutes fluency? How can we measure pauses in a rendition perceived as fluent? A more fine-grained analysis using specific software is needed to answer these questions. As stated earlier, fluency has been identified as a general norm in simultaneous interpreting. Since doubling, lengthening, and hedging occur not only in respect of metaphors but more widely, they can be seen as coping strategies which interpreters adopt under the pressure of time and in awareness that a fluent rendition is what is expected. What the analysis of interpreters’ dealing with metaphor has also revealed is the attempt to remain close to the wording in the source text. The combination of procedures in rendering metaphors can be said to illustrate this attempt. This can be taken as evidence of the interpreters’ struggle to produce a meaningful text and also remain close to the original words. I would like to argue that these strategies do not lend support to the image of interpreters as conduits but rather reflect their awareness and self-monitoring. Interpreting is a situated activity and needs to be analysed as such (see also Pym 2008 on limitations of purely cognitive models). As Shlesinger has pointed out, the processing of discourse in simultaneous interpreting “is apt to be affected not only by the immediately preceding units of text but by the text-in-situation, the setting, the circumstances, and the interpreter’s knowledge of the situation as a whole, which s/he applies as an integrated ensemble of strategic bottom-up/top-down processes” (Shlesinger 2000: 6). Political press conferences are high-level events, with politicians “perform[ing] political actions in the public, mediatized arena” (Fetzer and Bull 2013: 85). Interpreters, too, perform in such an arena, and they are aware of this context, of the social status of the speakers, of potential political conflicts, and of the fact that journalists will take up quotes for their subsequent reports. Interpreters who work for politicians usually have a high level of competence and have knowledge of previous interactions and overall political aims. In short: they are part of the discourse. Nevertheless, the socio-cultural and situational context of press conferences also puts constraints on the interpreters’ performance. It is their professional aim to fulfil the expectations of their clients and their audience and they aim at high quality of their output, which can be seen by a fair level of self-monitoring, self-awareness, and self-assessment. Matsushita (2015) characterised lengthening and doubling in her press conference analysis as a high-effort strategy employed by the interpreter for high-risk problems. Lengthening, doubling, and hedging, may thus not only be strategies for coping with cognitive load but also evidence of interpreters’ self-monitoring and awareness of the context. The arguments presented here can only be seen as preliminary since they are based on a limited corpus of one discursive event (political press conferences), only for interpreting between English and German, and only for

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the simultaneous mode. Further research is needed to verify whether the procedures for dealing with metaphor and the coping strategies identified in my corpus would be specific to political press conferences or could be generalised across a range of interpreting contexts (including consecutive interpreting). Further insights into interpreters’ decision making can also be gained by complementing the descriptive analyses of products and processes by interviewing interpreters and observing their performance in the actual settings. Such studies could also test the explanatory power of alternative theoretical frameworks and concepts, such as interpreters’ habitus (e.g. Inghilleri 2003). Shlesinger’s comment (2000: 13) is thus still very pertinent today: “To fully appreciate the merits and drawbacks of the available approaches, we apparently require more research into research; i.e., efforts to validate the relevance of our methodologies and to avoid counterproductive or misleading ones”.

Notes 1. After Lakoff and Johnson, I designate conceptual metaphors with small capital letters. 2. The search was done for ‘interpret*’ and ‘translat*’ in order to capture references to ‘interpret, interpreting, interpreter’ and ‘translate, translation, translator’, resp. 3. No back translation is provided if both versions are basically equivalent. 4. For the exact reference, a simplified form has been used—i.e. just mentioning the surnames of the politicians, followed by the date and place of the press conference. A complete list of the press conferences with reference to the respective websites is provided at the end of this chapter. 5. Strictly speaking, the interpreters’ oral output is also a product.

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Press Conferences Quoted in this Chapter (1) Joint press conference Barack Obama and Angela Merkel in Washington on 7 June 2011 (a) English transcript: www.whitehouse.gov/the-press-office/2011/06/07/ remarks-president-obama-and-chancellor-merkel-joint-pressconference (accessed 29 January 2016) (b) German transcript: https://archiv.bundesregierung.de/ContentArchiv/DE/Archiv17/Mitschrift/Pressekonferenzen/2011/06/2011– 06–07-merkel-obama.html (accessed 29 January 2016) (c) Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m3rPHBvrYsU (accessed 29 January 2016)

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(2) Joint press conference Angela Merkel and Barack Obama in Berlin on 19 June 2013 (a) English transcript: www.whitehouse.gov/the-press-office/2013/06/19/ remarks-president-obama-and-german-chancellor-merkel-joint-pressconfere (accessed 29 January 2016) (b) German transcript: www.bundesregierung.de/ContentArchiv/DE/ Archiv17/Mitschrift/Pressekonferenzen/2013/06/2013–06–19-pkmerkel-obama.html (accessed 29 January 2016) (c) Video (interpreting into English): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v= p1-omSNkDLk (accessed 29 January 2016) (d) Video (interpreting into German): www.bundesregierung.de/ SiteGlobals/Forms/Webs/Breg/Suche/DE/Solr_Mediathek_formular. html?templateQueryString=Obama&resourceId=694322&cat= videos&pageLocale=de&input_=694444&view=&doctype=Video &id=731130 (accessed 29 January 2016) (3) Joint press conference David Cameron and Angela Merkel in London on 27 February 2014 (a) English transcript: https://www.gov.uk/government/speeches/davidcameron-and-angela-merkel-press-conference-february-2014 (accessed 29 January 2016, access to video from this website, but only for the statements by Cameron and Merkel) (b) German transcript on website of UK government: https://www.gov. uk/government/speeches/david-cameron-and-angela-merkel-pressconference-february-2014.de (accessed 29 January 2016) (c) German transcript on website of German government: www. bundesregierung.de/Content/DE/Mitschrift/Pressekonferenzen/ 2014/02/2014–02–27-pk-merkel-cameron.html (accessed 29 January 2016) (d) Video of complete press conference (interpreting into English): https:// www.youtube.com/watch?v=A39te3au_ME (accessed 29 January 2016) (4) Joint press conference Barack Obama and Angela Merkel in Washington on 2 May 2014 (a) English transcript: www.whitehouse.gov/the-press-office/2014/05/02/ remarks-president-obama-and-german-chancellor-merkel-jointpress-confere (accessed 29 January 2016) (b) German transcript: www.bundesregierung.de/Content/DE/Mitschrift/ Pressekonferenzen/2014/05/2014–05–02-pk-obama-merkel.html (accessed 29 January 2016) (c) Video (interpreting into English): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v= hXAwx11O6Dc (accessed 29 January 2016)

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(5) Joint press conference David Cameron and Angela Merkel in London on 7 January 2015 (a) English transcript: https://www.gov.uk/government/speeches/davidcameron-and-angela-merkel-press-conference (accessed 29 January 2016) (b) German transcript: www.bundesregierung.de/Content/DE/Mitschrift/ Pressekonferenzen/2015/01/2015–01–08-pk-merkel-cameron.html (accessed 29 January 2016) (6) Joint press conference Barack Obama and Angela Merkel in Washington on 9 February 2015 (a) English transcript: https://www.whitehouse.gov/the-press-office/2015/ 02/09/remarks-president-obama-and-chancellor-merkel-joint-pressconference (accessed 29 January 2016) (b) German transcript: www.bundesregierung.de/Content/DE/Mitschrift/ Pressekonferenzen/2015/02/2015–02–09-merkel-obama.html (accessed 29 January 2016) (c) Video (interpreting into English): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v= 5XTndk8lwow (accessed 29 January 2016)

8

Research on Television Interpreting A Case of Flouted Norms Eugenia Dal Fovo

1.

Introduction

“I should say the most important thing about the business of government and politics is not to bore the people”, stated Richard Nixon on August 25, 1960, while being interviewed by Jack Paar on The Tonight Show. From the very first televised U.S. presidential debate in 1960, television has played a key role in defining public political communication, offering reference “frames” (Bentivegna 1994: 8) for political issues of social relevance, acting as a filter between the political agenda setting and the audience (cf. Shaw 1979: 96–101). Bionda, Bourlot, Cobianchi and Villa (1998) even suggest that television has reached such a level of maturity in conveying political content (information) that televised political communication constitutes a genre in its own right, within which television plays a key role in acting as a filter between reality and the audience. Television shapes political discourse and viewers’ perception of it, while heavily influencing expectations of the latter for the former and, consequently, introducing well-established television discourse rules and principles in political communication. The ethics and logics of entertainment permeate political discourse in its various forms, turning them into a full-fledged television show (Schroeder 2008). Voters/viewers expect to be simultaneously informed and entertained, in line with the logics of panem (content, or information) et circenses (everything else, or entertainment), recently reformulated in the principle of television ‘infotainment’. There is extensive literature on the relation between media and politics (e.g. Cohen 1963; Gandy 1982; Pincus, Rimmer, Rayfiel and Cropp 1993; Lee and Solomon 1990; Cameron, Sallot and Curtin 1997; Shin and Cameron 2003) stressing the media’s role in shaping cultural and political reality, namely “the transfer of object salience (e.g., issues, organisations) from the media to the public” (Mitrook, Seltzer, Kiousis, Popescu and Shields 2006: 5), while at the same time defining “the process of salience formation as one of mutual interdependency among policymakers and news media.” (Mitrook et al. 2006: 6).

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U.S. presidential election campaigns are a prime example of such interdependency, which reaches its apex with presidential debates: Although the mythology surrounding the first Kennedy-Nixon broadcast would greatly amplify in the years to follow, the moral of the story has never varied: presidential debates are best apprehended as television shows, governed not by the rules of rhetoric or politics but by the demands of the host medium. (Schroeder 2008: 9) Indeed, such media events have risen to the status of television genre in their own right and a very successful one, according to viewers’ rating figures: Schroeder (2008: 282) observes that presidential debates are regularly watched by an average of 60–70 million viewers, and fall therefore in the same rating category with the Super Bowl (80–90 million viewers) and the Academy Awards ceremony (40 million viewers).

2.

Interpreting Political Discourse on Television

Political communication refers to multiple discourse instances taking up various forms and exerting various functions (cf. Schäffner 1997). Political speeches addressed to the public constitute one of such instances: their situational dimension is extended (cf. Viezzi 2001: 142), in the sense that, although the speaker—e.g. the U.S. president—is physically speaking to the audience standing in front of him/her, his/her speech is addressed to a far greater audience, which can be reached through the media. Undoubtedly, in the case of U.S. presidents, speeches are primarily oriented to U.S. citizens. However, speakers frequently employ specific rhetorical devices that plainly show that they are actually extending their reach to others as well. A case in point is the following example taken from Obama’s Inaugural Address uttered on January 20, 2009*: (1) And so to all other peoples and governments who are watching today from the grandest capitals to the small village where my father was born know that America is a friend of each nation and every man woman and child who seeks a future of peace and dignity we are ready to lead once more. (OT_OB_Inaugural Address_20090120) The symbolism and ritual dimension involved in Obama’s words define his televised speeches as media events of the “Coronation” (Dayan and Katz 1992: 26) kind—namely, heroic events that “proceed according to strict rules, dictated by tradition rather than by negotiated agreement” (Dayan and Katz 1992: 36). The role of television is pivotal: when broadcasting Coronations, television rehearses the audience in the ceremony they are about to witness, carefully spelling out the meaning of the symbols, framing the event by separating

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it from daily life, monumentalizing it, upholding its official definition, and offering a story line and commentary to shape its interpretations. (Dayan and Katz 1992: 38) Coronations are perceived and presented as distant from reality, in order to keep time and place and ceremonial symbols untouched by time. They remind society of its cultural heritage, while providing reassurance of social and cultural continuity (Dayan and Katz 1992: 37). Furthermore, other symbolic elements are present in Coronation speeches, through which political discourse both complements and enhances the ceremonial dimension of such media events. These elements pertain mainly to the rhetorical sphere and, more generally, to the form—how—rather than the content—what—of utterances (cf. Viezzi 2001: 151). A detailed list of rhetorical devices found in the OB.0811 corpus is provided in the following sections and will be the object of our analysis: they represent the ceremonial dimension of Obama’s speeches, contributing to their status of media events of the Coronation type, providing for their entertaining nature, and therefore justifying their being broadcast by U.S. and international broadcasters alike. Ultimately, these are the elements that television interpreters ought to preserve and successfully transfer when translating Obama’s speeches for the Italian audience. Presidential debates, on the other hand, are examples of “irresistible TV”, in which “conflict is the engine that propels narrative, be it political, journalistic, dramatic, or athletic” (Schroeder 2008: 284). They are media events pertaining to the “Contest” dimension (Dayan and Katz 1992: 26), watched live by millions of viewers relishing the suspense and urgent rhythm of competition, and eager to cheer the winner. Their significance lies not only in their informational dimension but also, and mostly, in the opportunity they provide for U.S. citizens to witness national history-making as live spectators and, at the same time, actively take part in the process as jury, determining who wins and who loses in terms of TV discourse efficacy. On the basis of such considerations, it is only natural to reflect upon the reasons behind broadcasting interpreted presidential debates on Italian television. U.S. voters living in Italy are unlikely to require interpretation in order to understand what is being said, while Italian viewers do not share the former’s interest in presidential debate, as they are not nearly as affected by their outcomes as U.S. citizens. So, unlike presidential addresses, presidential debates do not necessarily constitute a natural candidate for interpretation and broadcasting outside the United States: an English-speaking audience in Italy may prefer to view them in their original form, whereas the Italian audience may find a dubbed or subtitled version broadcast on the following day more appealing. And yet, just like U.S. voters, Italian viewers are members of the television audience, whose ethics, norms and, ultimately, agenda, inevitably and inextricably merge with politics in these particular occasions. Broadcasting U.S. presidential debates on television and interpreting them live for the sake of the target language (TL) audience

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thus acquires a new meaning: if U.S. television broadcasting presidential debates provides a representation and re-enactment of real events for voters at home, the broadcast interpretation of the same event for the TL audience is a re-enactment of the re-enactment. On the one hand, it follows the same entertainment rules that guide the first re-enactment instance; on the other, it must serve the comfort factor (cf. Katan and Straniero Sergio 2003) of a different sort of audience, a non-English-speaking audience in Italy, whose goal is that of being informed while, and perhaps more importantly, getting a feel of the event taking place live on the other side of the globe. Television logic and television audience expectations demand that information be provided as an aesthetic compensation of the original (the first re-enactment) in an entertaining way (Dayan and Katz 1992).

3.

Methodology and Data Many of the observations encountered in the literature on interpreting are based on sparse, often anecdotal data [. . .]. The compilation of bilingual and parallel corpora is indeed overdue, given the potential to use large, machine-readable corpora to arrive at global inferences about the interpreted text. (Shlesinger 1998: 487)

Eighteen years after Shlesinger’s (1998) seminal article on the need for the compilation of interpreting corpora, corpus-based Interpreting Studies (CIS) have been making significant progress, becoming a full-fledged branch of interpreting studies—albeit still in their infancy. After the first phase of great enthusiasm and—to a certain extent—unorganised research conducted on data collections of various kinds and dimensions, scholars began to reflect on the definition of interpreting corpus, pinpointing those sine qua non features that distinguish corpora1 from mere data collections and are essential for applying corpus-linguistics methodology to interpreting studies. At present, however, many difficulties still need to be tackled effectively2: making interpretation corpora electronically available to the scientific community requires a number of stages, some of which are common to corpus-based translation studies, such as corpus design and classification, whereas others are specific of oral texts and particularly onerous and time-consuming, such as transcription of spoken data. As effectively put by Cencini and Aston (2002: 47): “Like all speech, interpreting dies on the air. In order to study it, we need to resurrect the corpse by recording and transcribing it, thereby transforming the corpse into a corpus”. Nevertheless, the corpus-based approach still represents the most reliable one for studying real-life data, as it allows the analyst to investigate sets of variables on a large scale and identify “a number of regularities or recurring patterns in interpreters’ translational behaviour” (Straniero Sergio in press).

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Data

The data analysed here are collected in two corpora—namely, OB.0811 and DEB.04 (Dal Fovo 2012): the OB.0811 corpus (see Table 8.1) includes a series of monologue-like speeches and remarks by President Obama, ranging from 5 to 45 minutes in duration and addressing various topics on both Table 8.1 OB.0811 Corpus SPEECH

TYPE CODE

DATE

Speech on Victory

OT

OT_OB_Victory Speech_20081105

05.11.2008 17’

Speech on Victory

IT

06.11.2008 17’

Speech on Victory

IT

Inaugural Address

OT

Inaugural Address

IT

State of the Union Address State of the Union Address Remarks by the President on the Situation in Japan Remarks by the President on the Situation in Japan Remarks by the President on Osama Bin Laden Remarks by the President on Osama Bin Laden American Diplomacy in the Middle East and North Africa American Diplomacy in the Middle East and North Africa Remarks by the President on Afghanistan Remarks by the President on Afghanistan

OT

IT_OB_Victory Speech_20081106TG1 IT_OB_Victory Speech_20081106La7 OT_OB_Inaugural Address_20090120 IT_OB_Inaugural Address_20090121RN OT_OB_State of the Union_20110125 IT_OB_State of the Union_20110125STG24 OT_OB_Japan Remarks_20110317

IT OT

DURATION

06.11.2008 3’36’’ 20.01.2009 18’ 21.01.2009 18’ 25.01.2011 5’ 25.01.2011 5’ 17.03.2011 7’

IT

IT_OB_Japan 17.03.2011 7’ Remarks_20110317STG24

OT

OT_OB_Bin Laden Remarks_20110501

01.05.2011 9’

IT

IT_OB_Bin Laden Remarks_20110501RN

01.05.2011 9’

OT

OT_OB_MENA diplomacy_20110519

19.05.2011 45’

IT

IT_OB_MENA 19.05.2011 45’ diplomacy_20110519STG24

OT

OT_OB_Afghanistan Remarks_20110622

22.06.2011 12’

IT

IT_OB_Afghanistan Remarks_20110622RN

22.06.2011 12’

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domestic and foreign policy. Each original text (OT) has one corresponding interpreted text (IT)—namely, the interpreted version of the original live broadcast on Italian television. In the case of the Victory Speech (OT_OB_ Victory Speech_20081105), there are two ITs, as the speech was interpreted and broadcast on two different Italian television channels. Interpreters working on Italian TV translate simultaneously and in absentia (cf. Falbo 2012)—i.e. they do not share the same location the primary interaction takes place in, and they cannot therefore influence such interaction in any way, as primary interlocutors are frequently not even aware of their speech being interpreted elsewhere in the world. DEB.04 corpus (Dal Fovo 2012: 91–102) is illustrated in Table 8.2 and includes the three U.S presidential debates between incumbent George W. Bush and challenger John Kerry, and the single vice-presidential debate between vice-presidential candidates Dick Cheney and John Edwards, held during the 2004 U.S. presidential campaign, corresponding to four OTs and nine ITs3 for a total of 17 hours and 2 minutes of recordings. OTs have a standard duration of 90 minutes, with the exception of the second Bush/ Kerry debate, which lasted 95 minutes; ITs vary in duration according to editorial choices made by Italian broadcasters (Dal Fovo 2012: 91). Here, too, interpreters (or interpreters’ équipes) work simultaneously and in absentia. Both corpora are sub-corpora of CorIT—Italian Television Interpreting Corpus (Straniero Sergio 2003, 2007; Falbo 2009, 2012), a collection of more than 2,700 recordings (items) of interpretations of various durations—ranging from few-second long sound bites to 90-minute media events. They cover 50 years of interpretations broadcast on Italian television (cf. Falbo 2012) from various foreign languages into Italian, in different interpreting modes and within various communication settings and interaction types. OB.0811 and DEB.04 items have been transcribed using WinPitch software (cf. Martin 2005, 2009) in a way that makes “audio and video tracks available simultaneously, as a constant reminder of the multimedia dimension of the text, as opposed to a simple transcript” (Falbo 2012: 175). The orthographic transcription method was applied to both corpora, with the aim of achieving maximum compatibility for data sharing and user-readability (Niemants 2012: 169).4

5.

Methodology

The various aspects illustrated in the previous sections resulted in the identification of a series of critical key points for the analysis methodology elaboration. These key points concern the analysed speech event and its main characteristics, as well as the way in which they affect the interpreters’ tasks. In considering the aforementioned, the focus of the analysis was necessarily placed on the corpus: through the observation of authentic data, theoretical assumptions were first verified and subsequently operationalised into discrete and tangible trends of occurrences.

TYPE

OT IT OT IT IT IT OT IT IT IT IT OT IT

DEBATE

Bush/Kerry 1 Bush/Kerry 1 Bush/Kerry 2 Bush/Kerry 2 Bush/Kerry 2 Bush/Kerry 2 Bush/Kerry 3 Bush/Kerry 3 Bush/Kerry 3 Bush/Kerry 3 Bush/Kerry 3 Cheney/Edwards Cheney/Edwards

Table 8.2 DEB.04 Corpus

OT_BK1_30092004 IT_BK1_01102004RN OT_BK2_08102004 IT_BK2_09102004La7 IT_BK2_09102004STG24 IT_BK2_09102004sTG5 OT_BK3_13102004 IT_BK3_14102004RN IT_BK3_14102004STG24 IT_BK3_14102004sTG5 IT_BK3_14102004La7 OT_CEv_05102004 IT_CEv_06102004RN

CODE C-SPAN Rainews C-SPAN La7 SkyTG24 Speciale TG5 C-SPAN Rainews SkyTG24 Speciale TG5 La7 BBC World Rainews

BROADCAST 30.09.2004 01.10.2004 08.10.2004 09.10.2004 09.10.2004 09.10.2004 13.10.2004 14.10.2004 14.10.2004 14.10.2004 14.10.2004 05.10.2004 06.10.2004

DATE 90’ 90’ 95’ 27’ 31” 90’ 90’ 90’ 90’ 90’ 60’ 39’’ 28’ 47” 90’ 90’

DURATION

1 (male)

1 (female) 3 (male) 3 (male) 3 (male)

5 (4 male; 1 female) 3 (male) 5 (4 male; 1 female)

1 (female)

N. INT.

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5.1

OB.0811 Analysis Template

As illustrated in the previous sections, rhetorical devices in presidential addresses and remarks represent the ceremonial dimension of these televised political speeches, contributing to their status of Coronation-type media events. U.S. President Obama’s speeches, in particular, display a set of recurrent rhetorical devices and strategies (classified here on the basis Mortara Garavelli 2008 that serve such media-event goal). For the purpose of the present study, reference will be limited to repetition5 and apostrophe. These two figures of speech, aside from constituting traditional rhetorical strategies in political discourse, are a prime example of the merging of agendas between television and politics: media talk tends to favour audience involvement, not only in terms of the communicative ethos of broadcasting but also “in terms of the distinctive type of ‘public discourse’ they create” (Hutchby 2006: 40). Repetition and apostrophe have proven extremely effective in achieving audience involvement in media talk, as they help elicit viewers’ attention, while at the same time giving them the impression of being addressed directly (see examples provided in Table 8.3). In the following table (Table 8.3), types of repetition and apostrophe found in OB.0811 are listed, together with their relevant rhetorical function aiming at promoting audience involvement. 5.2

DEB.04 Analysis Template

Presidential debates are first and foremost “television shows” (Schroeder 2008: 9)—i.e. events in which “‘the medium is the message’”—and the “situation development can prove more important than topic development, the way social discourse is constructed more important than propositional content” (Mack 2002: 209). Their overriding and all-encompassing objective is to be entertaining (Katan and Straniero Sergio 2003: 133), following the logic of panem et circenses. The “spectacularization” element of Contests may be identified in their displayed degree of conflictuality (Dal Fovo 2012: 125)—i.e. the mise en scène of duel-like passages in which debaters are encouraged to act confrontationally by expressing their adversarial stances—thus allowing for the most assertive, strong, and executively capable leader to emerge. Questions (Qs) and answers (As) represent the operationalisation of entertainment—i.e. provide for conflict-eliciting devices. Q and A types are classified on the basis of their occurrence in the corpus of analysis. Subsequently, the whole Q/A group is taken into consideration, by observing the degree of conflictuality the combination of given types of Qs and As provides for. The grids are then applied to the ITs. By comparing the differences between Q and A occurrences in the OTs and in the Its, respectively, as well as their respective overall degree of conflictuality, similarities and differences in the degree of entertainment present in the OTs and their ITs are identified, with the aim of detecting loss or preservation of Contest-like (entertainment) elements in the ITs.

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Table 8.3 Figures of Speech in OB.0811 FIGURE OF SPEECH

DEFINITION

RHETORICAL FUNCTION

EXAMPLE

Repetition— Anaphora

Repetition of a word or phrase at the beginning of every clause

Provides for a parallel structure within the discourse, thus producing emphasis

And I know you didn’t do this just to win an election [.]and I know you didn’t do it for me [OT_OB_Victory Speech_20081105]

Repetition— Tricolon

Form of isocolon (succession of sentences, phrases and clauses of grammatically equal length) consisting of a series of three grammatically equal structures

My fellow citizens [.] I stand here today humbled by the task before us grateful for the trust you have bestowed mindful of the sacrifices borne by our ancestors [OT_OB_Inaugural Address_20090120]

Apostrophe— Noun

Words addressing a person or object directly, uttered by interrupting the speech flow

Apostrophe— Pronoun

Use of personal pronouns “you”/“I”/“we”, addressing listeners

Also defined as applause-trigger, bestows greater authority and solemnity to an utterance: “One of the main attractions of three-part lists is that they have an air of unity or completedness about them” (Brodine 1984: 183) It creates pathos, fostering the audience’s emotional participation by addressing them directly It produces emphasis and reduces distance between speaker and audience, especially in correspondence with particularly significant segments of the speech

America [.] we have come so far [.] we have seen so much [OT_OB_Victory Speech_20081105] And we’ve sent a message from the Afghan border to the Arabian Peninsula to all parts of the globe [.] we will not relent we will not waver and we will defeat you [OT_OB_State of the Union_20110125]

Qs and As classification showed that conflict-eliciting elements almost invariably originate in the Qs. Regardless of the type of speech, questions always display distinct lexico-grammatical elements identifying their aspect—i.e. syntactical form and degree of polarity (syntactical form in Table 4.2.1). Such elements may serve different purposes according to the use a speaker makes of them. The “strategic value” (Maley and Fahey 1991:

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6) of questions is here referred to as function α (Dal Fovo 2012: 118) and distinguishes between information-seeking Qs (ISQs) and confirmationseeking Qs (CSQs) on the basis of the reaction—i.e. particular kind of answer—a question may elicit, namely a missing piece of information or a confirmation/disclaimer. The relevant syntactical forms of ISQs are Wh- question (Example 2),6 or Wh- question with modalisation or negative verb forms (Example 3): (2) *MOD: (.)(2 sec) we’ve come gentlemen to our last question (.) a:nd: it occurred to me as I came to this debate tonight (.) that the three of us share something (1.5 sec) all three of us are surrounded by very strong women *DBB: *MOD: married to strong women (.) each of us (.) have two daughters (.) that (!) make us very proud (1 sec) I’d like to ask each of you (1 sec) what is the most important thing you’ve learned (.) from these strong women [OT_BK3_13102004: lines 868–873] (3) *MOD: new question: ehm Mr President two minutes what criteria would you use to determine when to start bringing US troops home from Iraq [OT_BK1_01102004: lines 227–228] The relevant syntactical forms of CSQs are Y/N question (Example 4) and modal or negative (Example 5). (4) *MOD: new question: eh- Mister President (.) do you believe that (1.5 sec) diplomacy and sanctions can resolve the nuclear problems with North Korea and Iran take them in any order you would like [OT_BK1_30092004: lines 604–605] (5) *QRM: Senator Kerry (.) the U.S. (.) is preparing a new Iraq (.) government (.) and will proceed to withdraw U.S. troops (.) would you proceed with the same plans as President Bush [OT_BK2_08102004: lines 107–108] In presidential debates, however, questions tend to display a further aspect—namely, a greater, more overt and more specific degree of intention than questions in most forms of Q/A interaction, expressed through elements indicating initiative, directness, assertiveness and/or adversarialness (Clayman, Elliott, Heritage and McDonald 2006: 565). Such a component is illustrated in the following example (Example 6):

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(6) *QRF: Senator Kerry (.) thousands or people have already been cured (.) or treated by the use of adult stem cells (.) or umbilical cord stem cells (.) however no one has been cured by using embryonic stem cells (.) wouldn’t it be wise to use stem cells (.) obtained without (.) the destruction of an embryo [OT_BK2_08102004: lines 716–718] According to the first two levels of classification (syntactical form and function α), the Q presented here is a CSQ with a modal verb in its negative form (wouldn’t). The CSQ form confers to the Q a distinct polarity, asking the debater to either confirm or disclaim such polarity. It is not, however, a neutral question as such: the use of the modal verb in its negative form constitutes an unfavourable tilt towards an answer disclaiming the content of the question. There is, in other words, a discernible degree of assertiveness (Clayman et al. 2006: 567) in the questioner’s formulation—i.e. an invitation towards a particular answer, making the question opinionated rather than neutral. By formulating one’s intention in order to achieve a specific goal—i.e. bringing about a reaction by the receiver, which is relevant to the initial intention, the QR is ultimately performing a perlocutionary act. The latter, in turn, can only find its realisation in the acknowledgement of the illocutionary dimension of the utterance by the receiver (cf. Searle 1983). This further component of the question is here identified as function β (Dal Fovo 2012: 120). In Table 8.4, the Q classification grid applied to the DEB.04 corpus is illustrated. By either accepting or ignoring the challenge in Q, candidates in their As either preserve or reduce the degree of conflictuality of the Q/A pair. Therefore, the various combinations of Qs and As categories provide for various degrees of conflictuality within each exchange, identified through the reference of each adjacency-pair element to the other. The degree of conflictuality (Table 8.5) identifies the presence (or absence) of elements of adversarialness and confrontation—i.e. conflict-eliciting elements—in either one or both components of the adjacency pair (Dal Fovo 2012: 125). Conflict-eliciting elements in Q are indicated as challenges. Challenges may be acknowledged through validation—in the form of either acceptance (Example 7) or rejection—or disclaimer (Example 8), thereby maintaining a high degree of conflictuality within the Q/A group: (7) *MOD: alright (.) Senator Kerry a new question (1 sec) uh: let’s talk about economic security (.) you pledged during the last debate that you would not raise taxes on those making less than two hundred thousand dollars a year (1 sec) but the price of everything is going up and we all know it (.) healthcare costs as you all of (!) talking about is skyrocketing the cost of the war (1 sec) my question is how can you: or any president whoever is elected next time (.) keep that pledge without running this

TYPE 3 Y/N question Wh- question Imperative (mostly declarative) Formulation question

Q3a. Leading question

Q3b. Initiative-disjunctive

Q3c. Initiative- Wh-

Q3d. Directive

Preface + unrelated interrogative clause Reported speech; Wh- question

Q3f. Adversarial II

Q3g. Global adversarial

Q3e. Adversarial I

(modal, declarative, negative . . .) Y/N question

Q2b. Other

Q2a. Polar question

(modal, declarative, negative . . .) Y/N question

Q1b. Other

TYPE 2

Wh- question

Q1a. Wh- question

TYPE 1

SYNTACTICAL FORM

CATEGORY

TYPE OF QUESTION

Table 8.4 Q Classification Grid (DEB.04 Corpus)

CSQ/ISQ

CSQ/ISQ

CSQ

CSQ/ISQ

ISQ

CSQ

CSQ

CSQ

CSQ

ISQ

ISQ

FUNCTION α

Assertive tilt towards a specific end of the polarity axe Challenging the candidate to disclaim a contradiction in terms Challenging the candidate to reconcile two items by providing relevant information Direct request to AR to provide a specific kind of A (limitation) Question encoding an “oppositional stance” in its preface; the conclusion is subsequently offered to the AR for approval Question assumes that the preface is true and moves on to challenge the AR with, e.g., an inference-driven question Oppositional or critical posture running through the question in its entirety

FUNCTION β

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Table 8.5 Q/A Degree of Conflictuality Grid (DEB.04 Corpus) Degree of Conflictuality No Challenge

Challenge Validated Accepted

Rejected

Challenge Disclaimed

Challenge Invalidated

Conflict Buildup

country d::eeper into debt (.) ←and passing on more of the bills that we’re running up to our children→ *DBK: I’ll tell you exactly how I can do it (1 sec) by reinstating (.) what President Bush took away (1 sec) which is called pay.as.you.go(1.5 sec) during the nineteen nineties we had pay-as-you-go rules (.) if you were going to pass something in the Congress you had to show where you (we)re going to pay for it and how [. . .] [OT_BK3_13102004: lines 117–142] (8) *QRF: thank you (.) Mr. President eh: my mother and sister travelled abroad this summer and when they got back they talked to us about how shocked they were at the intensity o:f (.) aggravation that other countries had with how we handled the Iraq situation (.) eh: diplomacy is obviously something that we have to really (.) work on what is your plan to (.) repair relations with other countries given (.) the current situation (.) *DBB: no I appreciate that (.) I eh (.) listen I- I- we’ve got a great country (.) I love our values (.) and I recognize I’ve made some decisions (.) that have caused people to not (.) understand the great values of our country (.) [. . .] people love America (.) sometimes they don’t like the decisions made by America (.) but I don’t think you want a president who tries to become popular (.) and does the wrong thing (.) [OT_BK2_08102004: lines 156–178] They may also be invalidated, when respondents do not provide any relevant A. Challenge invalidation may be operationalised through evasive As (Example 9), or by focusing on a completely different subject (Example 10). In both cases, the degree of conflictuality is reduced. (9) *MOD: →you will respond to that topic← but first I want to ask you f- for two minutes Senator- uh Vice president Cheney tonight (.) we mentioned (.) uh: Afghanistan we believe that Osama bin Laden is hiding perhaps in a cave somewhere along the Afghan (.)—Pakistan border (.) →if you get a second← term what is your plan to capture him and then to neutralize those who have sprung up to replace him *DBB: (1 sec) Gwen we have uh: we’ve never let up on Osama bin Laden from day one we’ve actively and aggressively pursued him we’ve captured or killed thousands of Al Qaeda (.) uh: (in) various

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(10) *MOD: Senator Kerry we got several questions along this line and I’m just curious if you’d go further on what you talked about with tort reform (.) would you be favouring eh: capping awards on pain and suffering (.) would you limit attorney’s fee (.) *DBK: a follow-up *MOD: yes (.) a follow-up on this for a minute *DBK: yes I think we should look at: the punitive and we should have some limitations but look what’s really important Charlie is the president is just trying to scare (.) everybody here (.) with throwing labels around (.) I mean (.) compassionate conservative what does that mean cutting five hundred thousand kids from afterschool programs (.) cutting three hundred sixty-five thousand kids from health care (.) running up the biggest deficits in American history Mr. President you’re batting four for two (.) I mean seriously (.) labels don’t mean anything what means something is (.) do you have a plan and I want to talk about my plan some more [. . .] [OT_BK2_08102004: lines 445–455]

6.

Analysis

On the basis of the results illustrated in the previous sections, a contrastive analysis of OTs and ITs was conducted, with the aim of measuring the incidence of original entertainment elements—either Coronation or Contest—in the ITs and identifying possible problem triggers that may compromise their rendition into Italian. 6.1

OB.0811 Analysis

The analysis of OTs showed a high incidence of the rhetorical strategies identified in Table 8.3, thus confirming their significance for both political and media discourse. The analysis yielded different results depending on the kind of figure of speech involved.

REPETITION-ANAPHORA Anaphora in Obama’s speeches serves as a cohesion and emphasis device. Each segment involving an anaphora displays a highly organised structure, providing for clarity and memorability of the concepts expressed therein (see Example 11).

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(11) That dream is why I can stand here before you tonight [.] that dream is why a working-class kid from Scranton can sit behind me LAUGHTER AND APPLAUSE [.] that dream is why someone who began by sweeping the floors of his father’s Cincinnati bar can preside as Speaker of the House in the greatest nation on Earth APPLAUSE that dream [.] that American dream [.] is what drove the Allen Brothers to reinvent their roofing company for a new era [.] it’s what drove those students at Forsyth Tech to learn a new skill and work towards the future [.] and that dream is the story of a small business owner named Brandon Fisher. (OT_OB_State of the Union_20110125) From a content-oriented perspective, anaphora represents a form of redundancy of information, which, in turn, triggers reformulation and re-elaboration strategies when interpreting it (Chernov 1994: 140). Indeed, when dealing with a redundant text—thus less dense from a semantic point of view—interpreters may leave out elements reiterated in the OT, thereby gaining time, while preserving textual completeness content-wise (Table 8.6).7 Table 8.6 Example of Omitted Anaphora OT_OB_State of the Union_20110125

IT_OB_State of the Union_20110125STG24

That dream is why I can stand here before you tonight [.] that dream is why a workingclass kid from Scranton can sit behind me LAUGHTER AND APPLAUSE [.] that dream is why someone who began by sweeping the floors of his father’s Cincinnati bar can preside as Speaker of the House in the greatest nation on Earth APPLAUSE that dream [.] that American dream [.] is what drove the Allen Brothers to reinvent their roofing company for a new era [.] it’s what drove those students at Forsyth Tech to learn a new skill and work towards the future [.] and that dream is the story of a small business owner named Brandon Fisher.

(.) questo: sogno mi ha portato qui oggi questo sogno (.) ah ha anche reso: possibile: che un ragazzo da Scranton (.) sieda accanto EHM dietro di me (.) e: uno speaker della camera (.) è una persona il cui: che ha iniziato pulendo il pavimento (.) del: bar di suo padre a Cincinnati APPLAUSE (.) questo sogno (.) il sogno americano è ciò che ha portato: i fratelli Allen a Ex:reinvertare(!) la loro: compagnia per una nuova era è ciò che: ha portato quegli studenti al Forsyth Tech a: imparare nuove: capacità e a lavorare verso il futuro e questo: sogno è la storia (.) di una: piccola impresa chiamata Brandon Fisher This dream brought me here today this dream has made possible for a boy from Scranton to seat beside behind me and a speaker of the house is a person whose who started cleaning the floor of his father’s bar in Cincinnati APPLAUSE this dream the American dream is what made the Allen brothers to reinvent their company for a new era it is what made those students at Forsyth Tech to learn new skills and work towards the future and this dream is the story of a small business called Brandon Fisher.

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Table 8.7 Example of Omitted Anaphora Due to Lack of Syntactical Elements in the TL that Correspond to the SL Formulation OT_OB_Inaugural Address_20090120

IT_OB_Inaugural Address_20090121RN

We will build the roads and bridges (.) we will restore science to its rightful place (.) we will harness the sun and the winds and the soil to fuel our cars and run our factories (.) and we will transform our schools and colleges and universities

(.) che poss- nuove strade che possano unirci (.) la nostra tecnologia ci dovrà aiutare a percorrere questa strada (.) e anche utilizzeremo: l’energia solare e i ve:nti e tutte le forme di energia e le trasfXremo nelle nostre scuole le nostre industrie per incontrare gli uomini della nuova era That coul- new toads that may unite us our technology will have to help us build this road and also we will use solar energy and wind and every form of energy and we will transfer our factories in our schools to meet the men of the new era

In general, however, interpreters tend to preserve this structure in the OB.0811 corpus, in a way that suggests that its organisational function benefits the transposition task rather than hampering it. The only exceptions to this tendency are cases of anaphora involving elements of the source language (SL)—namely, English, such as modal verbs—which do not have a syntactic correspondence in the TL—namely, Italian—as is the case in Table 8.7.

REPETITION-TRICOLON As illustrated in Table 8.3, tricolon is a figure of speech involving the succession of three equal structures consisting of sentences, phrases and clauses of grammatically equal length. It appears to be quite frequent in the OTs of the OB.0811 corpus, mostly serving as applause-trigger: by using a tricolon (Example 12), Obama addresses the audience directly, signalling that he is making a point for which he is expecting applause. In other words, the tricolon may be considered a full-fledged foregrounding device for “applause-relevant” (Hutchby 2006: 153) places in speech, as it bestows authority and solemnity to an utterance: “One of the main attractions of three-part lists is that they have an air of unity or completedness about them” (Brodine 1984: 183): (12) And above all, I will ask you to join the work of remaking this nation the only way it’s been done in America for two hundred and twenty

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one years (.) block by block brick by brick calloused hand by calloused hand APPLAUSE. (OT_OB_Victory Speech_20081105) The analysis of the ITs confirmed results obtained in previous studies on interpreters’ omissions corresponding to lists of elements in the OT: indeed, interpreting lists represents a highly demanding task in terms of “cognitive information processing skills” (Pöchhacker 2004: 53), which frequently results in the omission (in the IT) of at least one item of a given list in the OT (cf. Meacci 2009). Tricolon-type lists in the OB.0811 corpus are no exception (as in Tables 8.8 and 8.9 below). As was the case with anaphora-like repetitions, tricolons, too, have a stylistic and emphatic, rather than informational value, and omission of one of its items by the interpreter does not compromise coherence or comprehensibility of the IT.

Table 8.8 Example of Omitted Item of a Tricolon OT_OB_Victory Speech_20081105

IT_OB_Victory Speech_20081106TG1

And above all I will ask you to join the work of remaking this nation the only way it’s been done in America for two hundred and twenty one years (.) block by block brick by brick calloused hand by calloused hand APPLAUSE

Soprattutto vi chiederò (.) di unirvi nel lavoro di ricostruzione di questo paese (.) l’unico modo cono:- conosciuto negli ultimi duecento anni in America isolato per isolato mattone per mattone Above all I will ask you to join in the work of rebuilding this country the only way kno- known in the past two hundred years in America block by block brick by brick

Table 8.9 Example of Omitted Item of a Tricolon OT_OB_MENA diplomacy_20110519

IT_OB_MENA diplomacy_20110519STG24

This young man who had never been particularly active in politics went to the headquarters of the provincial government (.) doused himself in fuel (.) and lit himself on fire

Questo giovane che non era stato mai tanto: attivo in politica è andato davanti al: alla sede generale del governo e si è dato: fuoco This young man that had never been very active in politics went in front of the headquarters of the government and set himself on fire

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APOSTROPHE-NOUN As illustrated in the previous section, apostrophes are one of the most common devices used in public media discourse in order to promote audience involvement, making the speech—and the speaker—accessible to listeners both in co-presence and at home, creating pathos, and showing emotional participation. One of the most frequent types of anaphora present in the OTs of the OB.0811 corpus are utterances directly addressed to the U.S. people through the use of the vocative “America”: (13) Today I say to you that the challenges we face are real they are serious and they are many (.) they will not be met easily or in a short span of time (.) but know this America (.) they will be met (OT_OB_Inaugural Address_20090120) Interpreters tend to maintain the reference to America or the American people in the IT. However, vocatives are turned into mere nominal forms and impersonal sentences (Table 8.10): Table 8.10 Example of Omitted Apostrophe OT_OB_Inaugural Address_20090120

IT_OB_Inaugural Address_20090121RN

Today I say to you that the challenges we face are real, they are serious and they are many (.) they will not be met easily or in a short span of time (.) but know this America (.) they will be met.

Oggi vi dico che la sfida che dobbiamo affrontare è reale è se:ria e ci sono molte sfide non sarà facile affrontarla e ci vorrà del tempo ma (.) nessuna non dobbiamo scoraggiarci davanti a questo noi americani Today I tell you that the challenge we have to face is real is serious and there are many challenges it won’t be easy to face it and it will take time but nothing we must not be discouraged in front of it we Americans

In the first example (Table 8.10), the vocative “know this, America” present in the OT does not appear in the IT. The interpreter makes an attempt at retrieving the lost audience-involvement device by reformulating the sentence using the personal pronoun “noi” [we] and adding a reference to the American people, providing a specification of the previously undetermined subject at the end of the sentence—“noi americani” [we . . . Americans].

APOSTROPHE-PRONOUN Obama frequently addresses his audience directly, by using the personal pronoun “you”, especially in correspondence with particularly significant segments of the speech, thereby emphasizing them and/or reducing the distance between himself and his audience (Example 14). The personal pronoun

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“you” often appears in combination with performative expressions, such as “will” + verb (Examples 14 and 15). (14) To those (.) to those who would tear the world down (.) we will defeat you (.) to those who seek peace and security (.) we support you (OT_OB_Victory Speech_20081105) (15) And for those who seek to advance their aims by inducing terror and slaughtering innocents (.) we say to you now that our spirit is stronger and cannot be broken (.) you cannot outlast us and we will defeat you (OT_OB_Inaugural Address_20090120) Interpreters tend to mitigate such forms, by turning the deictic element into an anaphoric one (Table 8.11) or by replacing the imperative form of the verb with a modal verb in the indirect form (Table 8.12).

Table 8.11 Example of Mitigation of Apostrophe-Pronoun: Direct Pronoun Turned into Indirect OT_OB_Victory Speech_20081105

IT_OB_Victory Speech_20081106TG1

To those (.) to those who would tear the world down (.) we will defeat you (.) to those who seek peace and security (.) we support you

A coloro (.) che Ex:vuogliono(!) abbattere il mondo noi: li sconfiggeremo a coloro che cercano pace e sicurezza noi li appoggeremo To those that want to destroy the world we will defeat them to those that look for peace and safety we will support them

Table 8.12 Example of Mitigation of Apostrophe-Pronoun: Imperative Turned into Impersonal Modal OT_OB_Inaugural Address_20090120

IT_OB_Inaugural Address_20090121RN

And so, to all other peoples and governments who are watching today, from the grandest capitals to the small village where my father was born: know that America is a friend of each nation and every man, woman and child who seeks a future of peace and dignity, we are ready to lead once more

Quindi per tutte (.) le altre persone degli a:ltri governi che ci guardano dai piccoli villaggi alle grandi capitali come: tutti devono sapere che l’America è gr- è amica di tutte le nazioni e che t:utti noi vogliamo cerca:re un futuro di pace e di sicurezza So for all the other people the other governments who are watching from the small villages to the big capitals like everyone must know that America is gr- is friend to all nations and that we all want to seek a future of peace and security

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In the first example (Table 8.11) the interpreter preserves the original subject and verb “we will defeat”, but replaces the apostrophe “you” with the third-person-plural pronoun “loro” [them] in its clitic form “li”, thereby turning the threat-like sentence into a mere–and much less assertive–declaration of intent. In the second example (Table 8.12), the apostrophe at the beginning of the sentence, identifying “other peoples and governments” as the addressees of the coming utterance is preserved: “per tutte le altre persone degli altri governi che ci guardano” [for all other people of the other governments who are watching us]; the following imperative (“know”), however, is replaced by the modal verb “dovere” [must] in the impersonal form: “tutti devono sapere” [they all must know]. The meaning of the sentence is therefore preserved, although the IT version lacks in resolve compared to the OT. 6.2

DEB.04 Analysis

The analysis conducted on OTs showed a high incidence of conflict-eliciting elements, thus confirming expectations as regards the Contest-like dimension of debates as both discourse genre and media event. Indeed, the Q/A group truly appears to be the core and pivot of the Contest-like dimension of debates, with questioners eliciting and sustaining contrast throughout the whole event, exerting various degrees of pressure and constraint on debaters through their Qs. The analysis of conflict-eliciting elements in Qs—operationalised as function β—reflects such behaviour, as it registered a prevalence (81%) of 3-type Qs (Example 16). (16) *MOD: (.) Senator Edwards (a) new question to you and you have two minutes to respond (1.5 sec) part of- (.) d- what you have said and Senator Kerry has said that you are going to do in order to get us out of the: uh the problems in Iraq is to (.) eh internationalize the effort (.) yet French and German officials have both said they have n:o intention even if John Kerry is elected of sending →any troops into Iraq for any peacekeeping effort does that make← (.) your effort or your pla:n to internationalize this effort seem kind of naive [OT_CEv_05102004: lines 305–309] Accordingly, candidates appear to act confrontationally by expressing their adversarial stances: indeed, not being allowed to address each other, their only way of displaying their competitive edge is to accept (and successfully deal with) challenges expressed in the questions, thus allowing for their qualities of most assertive, strong, and executively capable leaders to emerge. Questioners and debaters cooperate to reach these goals throughout their turns: surveys concerning the degree of conflictuality of Q/A exchanges registered a prevalence of cases (68%), in which conflict is preserved through challenge validation. As tend to validate challenges, either by accepting—e.g.,

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reconciling contradictions (Example 17), or rejecting them—e.g., providing justification for an accusation (Example 18). (17) *MOD: alright (.) Senator Kerry a new question (1 sec) uh: let’s talk about economic security (.) you pledged during the last debate that you would not raise taxes on those making less than two hundred thousand dollars a year (1 sec) but the pri:c:e of everything is going up and we all know it (.) healthcare costs as you all of (!) talking about is skyrocketing the cost of the war (1 sec) my question is how can you: or any president whoever is elected next time (.) keep that pledge without running this country d::eeper into debt (.) ←and passing on mo:re of the bills that we’re running up to our children→ *DBK: I’ll tell you exactly how I can do it (1 sec) by reinstating (.) what President Bush took away (1 sec) which is called pay.as.you.go(1.5 sec) during the nineteen nineties we had pay-as-you-go rules (.) if you were going to pass something in the Congress you had to show where you (we)re going to pay for it and how [. . .] [OT_BK3_13102004: lines 117–142] (18) *MOD: all right new question: eh: two minutes Senator Kerry speaking of Vietnam you spoke to Congress in nineteen seventy-one after you came back from Vietnam and you said quote how do you ask a man to be the last man to die for a mistake are Americans now dying (.) in Iraq for a mistake *DBK: no and they don’t have to providing we have the leadership that we put (.) that I’m offering (2 sec) I believe that we we have to win this (the) President and I have always agreed on that (.) and from the beginning I did vote to give the authority because I thought Saddam Hussein was a threat and I did accept that (.) eh that intelligence but I also laid out a very s:trict series of things we needed to do (.) in order to proceed from the position of strength [. . .] [OT_BK1_30092004: lines 281–303] Results show similar tendencies in ITs, which may therefore be said to display general adherence to the infotainment principle: indeed, conflictuality runs throughout most interpreted exchanges at both Q and Q/A level, with 3-type Qs and challenge validation and/or enhancement accounting for the majority in terms of incidence—68.5% and 61.5% of the total, respectively. At first glance, figures mentioned so far would appear to substantiate successful transposition of the Contest-like dimension of presidential debates in their interpreted versions, with OTs and ITs sharing a majority of conflict-eliciting Qs and Q/A exchanges with a high degree of conflictuality. A closer look at the aforementioned percentage values, however, allows

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for the identification of one main difference between OTs and ITs: despite an almost equivalent incidence of conflictual Q/A exchanges (68% in the OTs vs 61.5% in the ITs), Qs appear to be much less conflict-eliciting in ITs (68%) than in OTs (81%), thus suggesting a greater incidence of conflict buildup8 interventions in the IT As. This, however, did not emerge at the first stage of analysis, which displayed an almost equivalent average incidence of conflict buildups in OTs and ITs (11% and 12%, respectively). The most evident characteristic of ITs is a lower incidence of conflict eliciting (3-type) Qs—in six out of eight of them. Such values almost invariably correspond to a reduced degree of conflictuality at Q/A level—five out of six ITs. Interpreter-generated conflict mitigation is generally initiated in the Q: indeed, the OT-IT contrastive analysis shows a high incidence of cases, in which interpreters add formally conflict-mitigating devices—mostly indirectness-operationalising devices in the Q formulation, frequently matched by omission of assertive elements (Table 8.13). Less frequent are the cases in which mitigation affects adversarialness—i.e. it is achieved through the omission of topically conflict-eliciting elements. More specifically, changes occur in correspondence with three Q categories: typically assertive leading Qs, with a tilt towards one end of the polarity axe usually encoded in the interrogative clause; initiative Wh- Qs, which are usually prefaced with the presentation of a contradiction in terms and end with a Wh- interrogative clause challenging the candidate to reconcile the preface items and/or disclaim the contradiction; and adversarial II Qs, prefaced with a quote or statement conveying an oppositional and/or critical stance against the candidate (threatening his positive face), followed by an inference-driven interrogative clause based on the assumption that the preface is true and challenging the candidate to save his positive face. All three Q categories share a fundamental aspect regarding conflictuality: indeed, all three have their challenging, conflict-eliciting elements–their function β–encoded in the interrogative clause. Table 8.13 Example of Conflict Mitigation Through Omission of Assertive Interrogative Clause (Q3a) OT_BK2_08102004

LINES

IT_BK2_09102004STG24

LINES

*QRF: Senator Kerry (.) thousands of people have already been cured (.) or treated by the use of adult stem cells (.) or umbilical cord stem cells (.) however no one has been cured by using embryonic stem cells (.)wouldn’t it be wise to use stem cells (.) obtained without (.) the destruction of an embryo

716–718

*INM (QRF): senatore Kerry migliaia di persone sono già state curate o EH trattate con l’uso di EH cellule staminali ma nessuno è stato curato utilizzando le EH cellule EH staminali embrionali Senator Kerry thousands of people have already been cured or treated with the use of stem cells but nobody has been cured using embryonic stem cells

578–579

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When conflict-eliciting elements are mitigated through indirectness, assertive and adversarial interrogative clauses in the OT turn into mere token-like, open-ended interrogative clauses in the IT. There are cases in which the OT interrogative clause is completely omitted in the IT, thus eliminating any trace of assertiveness–and at times adversarialness—from the Q. As a result, the IT Q turns into a statement-like ISQ, only rarely preserving its function β—i.e. when the preface entails the juxtaposition of two contradicting items—and generally providing for a far less constrictive request, ideally leaving the candidate ‘ample space for manoeuvre’, as he appears to be free to choose from a wider range of possible As in the IT, compared to the OT. The following examples illustrate such cases of interpreter-generated conflict buildup: QRM poses a slightly assertive Q, asking DBK whether he will proceed with Bush’s plan, should he be elected president. DBK validates the conflict-eliciting elements by rejection—i.e. declaring his intent to follow a different plan, “because the President’s plan is not working”. INQM’s Q is missing the interrogative clause with the reference to Bush’s plan. INK’s proceeds with his turn by translating DBK’s A almost literally—i.e. maintaining the reference to Bush, thereby building up conflict: indeed, the introduction of Bush’s plan in such critical terms in the IT appears as an inference made by Kerry in order to use some implicit conflict potential contained in INQM’s statement-like turn (Table 8.14).

Table 8.14 Example of Interpreter-Generated Conflict Buildup OT_BK2_08102004

LINES

IT_BK2_09102004sTG5

LINES

*QRM: Senator Kerry (.) the 107–126 *INQM: signor senatore ←Kerry→ 87–102 gli Stati Uniti stann:o preparando U.S. (.) is preparing a new un nuovo governo iracheno e Iraq (.) government (.) and stanno procedendo anche al will proceed to withdraw pensare al riti:ro delle truppe U.S. troops (.) would you proceed with the same plans [the U.S. is preparing a new Iraqi as President Bush government and are proceeding to withdraw troops] *DBK: (.) Anthony I would not I have laid out *INK: Anthony francamente a different plan because no non lo farei io ho un piano the President’s plan is not differente perché il piano del working (.) you see that presidente non funziona e lo every night on television (.) vediamo tutti i giorni in televisione there’s chaos in Iraq (.) King c’è il caos in Iraq King Abdullah di Abdullah of Jordan said just Giordania ha detto ieri o il giorno yesterday or the day before prima che non si possono tenere le (.) you can’t hold elections elezioni in Iraq con il caos che c’è in Iraq with the chaos that’s lì in quel momento [. . .] going on today [. . .] [Anthony frankly no I would not do it I have a different plan because the President’s plan is not working]

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The various units composing Qs each have a specific function, or interactional goal (prospective dimension), and are invariably followed by a relevant reaction in the response turn, which ultimately builds (or avoids) confrontation between speakers. One speaker’s reaction to previous discourse is therefore fundamental for the interpretation of the latter, due to the backward reach of responses (retrospective dimension). If every type of A is considered first and foremost as a reaction to the first part of the adjacency pair—namely, the realization of the perlocutionary effect elicited by the illocutionary act performed through the Q, it is clear that changes in the actions and goals expressed through the Q will have an effect on the interpretation—i.e. perception and comprehension—of the subsequent A. In cases of Q/A conflictuality-degree preservation, OT assertive or adversarial interrogative clauses are followed by challenge-acceptance, challenge-rejection or disclaimer As. When such interrogative clauses are mitigated or omitted in the IT, the following IT turn ceases to be a reaction to a challenge, which is no longer present in the Q turn. The rigid and highly conventional sequential structure of presidential debates’ adjacency pairs, in which participants produce their utterances in the pre-allocated spots they are conventionally assigned, provides for the internal (intratextual) cohesion of the exchange. As a result, the IT A still represents a reaction, but a different one, acquiring a new status, according to the changes occurred in the Q goal-pursuing (challenging, conflict-eliciting, assertive, adversarial, function-β) related elements. The IT A and the reaction it expresses are now related to the only remaining elements of the OT Q preserved in its IT counterpart, i.e., its function α, which defines the IT Q—now an open, token-like, comment-soliciting interrogative clause or declarative—as seeking either information or confirmation. Consequently, OT conflict-validating As appear as conflict-enhancing As in the IT, despite—or, rather, because of—conflict mitigation occurred in the Q at function-β level. These are cases identified as conflict builds up in the first stage of the analysis (in which ITs were observed as autonomous texts). The second stage of analysis subsequently highlighted their correspondence with cases of OT conflict validation through disclaimer As. Disclaimers represent globally adversarial stances, contesting the Q as a whole, and are therefore less dependent on specific—e.g., assertive—elements present in the Q. A disclaimer reaction to a mitigated Q in the IT—for instance, a Q missing its assertive interrogative clause—appears as a conflict initiation on the part of the answerer, who is the first to introduce an oppositional element within the Q/A exchange, as shown in the following excerpt from the second Bush/ Kerry debate and his sTG5 interpreted version (Table 8.15).

7.

Discussion and Conclusive Remarks

Nixon’s point on politics’ most important requisite—namely, not being perceived as boring by the people, appears to be confirmed: thanks to the corpus-based approach, the analyst was able to identify a series of recurring

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Table 8.15 Example of Conflict Initiation in the IT A, as a Result of Conflict Mitigation in the IT Q OT_BK2_08102004

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IT_BK2_09102004sTG5

LINES

*QRM: Senator Kerry (.) 107–126 *INQM: signor senatore ←Kerry→ 87–102 gli Stati Uniti stann:o preparando the U.S. (.) is preparing a un nuovo governo iracheno e stanno new Iraq (.) government procedendo anche al pensare al (.) and will proceed to riti:ro delle truppe withdraw U.S. troops (.) would you proceed [the U.S. is preparing a new Iraqi with the same plans as government and are proceeding to President Bush withdraw troops] *DBK: (.) Anthony I *INK: Anthony francamente would not I have laid out no non lo farei io ho un piano a different plan because differente perché il piano del the President’s plan is not presidente non funziona e lo working (.) you see that vediamo tutti i giorni in televisione every night on television c’è il caos in Iraq King Abdullah di (.) there’s chaos in Iraq (.) Giordania ha detto ieri o il giorno King Abdullah of Jordan prima che non si possono tenere le said just yesterday or the elezioni in Iraq con il caos che c’è day before (.) you can’t lì in quel momento [. . .] hold elections in Iraq with [Anthony frankly no I would not do the chaos that’s going on it I have a different plan because the today [. . .] President’s plan is not working]

aspects, such as involvement-eliciting rhetorical strategies in OB.0811 speeches and conflict-eliciting elements in DEB.04 questions and answers, pertaining to political discourse on television and designed specifically to the audience’s benefit, in other words providing evidence of the merging of agendas between politics and the media. Indeed, such elements are not pivotal for conveying the strictly informational content of the text or preserving its cohesion: as emerged from the analysis of the ITs, their omission rarely affects the understandability or completeness of the message expressed. It does, however, result in the mitigation, to varying extents, of the original message in its interpreted version: the elimination of apostrophes from Obama’s speeches significantly reduces the appearance of involvement in TL viewers, for whom the broadcast turns into a mere televised narration, rather than a recreation of the original event, “a substitute for ‘being there’” (Dayan and Katz 1992: 78–79). The celebrative dimension of Obama’s speeches is not restored in any way, nor is the loss of rhetorical force compensated in the ITs, which successfully inform the non-English-speaking audience in Italy, but do not convey the feeling of the original, providing them with informational content (panem) but not entertainment (circenses). In the case of presidential debates, both original and ITs display an almost equal degree of conflictuality, which constitutes the ultimate operationalisation

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of the Contest-like dimension. However, conflict initiation, mostly operationalised through conflict-eliciting elements in the majority of questions in the OTs, has a far lower incidence in ITs: indeed, interpreters tend to reduce aggressiveness of questions in terms of both content and formal aspects, by omitting topically conflict-eliciting elements and introducing conflict-mitigating elements in challenging questions, respectively. Displaced situationality, however, together with discourse-specific aspects of presidential debates, such as turn-type preallocation and, most importantly, their rigid Q/A structure, frequently compensate for mitigation: interpreters simultaneously translating presidential debates work in absentia, not sharing space (hic) and sometimes even time (nunc) with primary interlocutors; this means the latter do not rely on interpreters to understand each other, and interpreters are therefore unable to influence primary interaction. Consequently, changes occurring in the interpretation of a turn do not influence the following turn in the OT—e.g., changes occurring in the translation of a question do not influence the way a candidate is going to reply, as his answer will be based on the original question, and not its interpreted (modified) version. In other words, conflict mitigation in a given question turn in the IT does not affect the candidates’ understanding of and reaction to the original question. Interpreters faithfully reproduce such reactions in the answer turn in almost all cases, that is to say, they translate the original answer without taking into account possible changes occurred in the translation of the relevant question. As a result, IT display Q/A exchanges with far less conflict-eliciting elements in the question turns with respect to the OTs, while almost invariably preserving conflict-eliciting elements in the answer turns. When questions are mitigated or omitted in the IT, the following turn ceases to be a reaction to a challenge, which is no longer present in the question turn. As was the case in the OB.0811 corpus ITs, here, too, such variation very rarely compromises coherence as a whole, as the rigid and highly conventional sequential structure of presidential debate adjacency pairs, in which participants produce their utterances in the pre-allocated spots they are conventionally assigned, provides for the internal (intratextual) cohesion of the exchange. It does, however, affect the degree of contextual (in)adequacy of the answer with respect to its relevant question: answers to mitigated questions in ITs still represent a reaction, but a different one, acquiring a new status according to the changes occurring in the Q goal-pursuing, conflict-eliciting elements. Such a reaction can only be related to the preserved elements of the question, which define it as seeking either information or confirmation. Consequently, original-text, conflict-validating answers appear as conflict build ups in the IT, despite—or, rather, because of—conflict mitigation occurring in the question, as the oppositional elements make their first appearance in the answer. As a result, the overall Contest-like dimension of presidential debates is preserved in their interpreted versions, regardless—and even in spite of—interpreters’ tendency to mitigate.

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Transcription conventions Capital Initial

Proper Names of People, Institutions Places . . .

(.)

Silent pause. According to the analysis requirements, pauses may be quantified by replacing “.” with the relevant duration in seconds.

worX XXX (wo)rd

Truncated word Unintelligible syllable Unintelligible word Unintelligible phonemes, which do not, however, prevent the intelligibility of the entire word uttered Syncopated, “robotic” rhythm Throat-clearing sounds, swallowing sounds, laughter, heavy breathing, cough, applause, interpreter’s comments, microphone noises . . . Vocalised hesitations and filled pauses Numbers are transcribed in letters Vowel or consonant lengthening

Word.word.word CAPITAL

Eh, ah, ehm Number a: word: word::: /variation 1, variation 2/ ((gesture)) →word word← ←word word→ (?) Ex: word (?) A: dgjioegj B: Name (pronunciation:———)

Ambiguous segment (multi-transcription) Proxemic elements Fast(er) elocution rhythm Slow(er) elocution rhythm Metathesis, anticipation, transposition and possible typographical errors Speech overlap Incorrect pronunciation of proper names: the standard orthographic indication is followed by the altered one in brackets

Notes * Transcription conventions for examples are found at the end of this chapter. 1. The concept of corpus has to satisfy those “criteria defining a truly representative interpretation corpus” (Straniero Sergio and Falbo 2012: 10); it has to constitute a “choix organisé” (Blanche-Benveniste 2000: 12) (organized selection) of data, which responds to “the objective set for each study” (Straniero Sergio and Falbo 2012: 11). Ultimately, a corpus has to be representative of the object of study: “A finite-sized body of machine-readable text, sampled in order to be maximally representative of the language variety under consideration” (McEnery and Wilson 2001: 32). 2. Some of the latest developments in CIS are illustrated in the works of Bendazzoli (2010), Setton (2011), and Straniero Sergio and Falbo (2012), just to name a few of the most up-to-date references mentioned in Bendazzoli’s (2015: 87–90) entry on corpus-based research in the first edition of the Routledge Encyclopedia of Interpreting Studies. These studies clearly illustrate the difficulties that

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5.

6.

7. 8.

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lie in applying the corpus-based approach to IS. Yet, they also underline just as clearly the necessity of resorting to corpora in order to achieve “a higher degree of descriptive adequacy” (Granger 2003: 19), as opposed to the long-standing tradition of prescriptive and evaluation-oriented studies that was a distinctive feature of research on interpreting in its early stage. Cases in which more than one IT corresponds to a single OT refer to instances in which a single debate was broadcast on more than one Italian TV channel, each having appointed their own interpreter(s’ équipe). According to the author, on the one hand, “each transcription aims at achieving the specific goals of a researcher working within a particular theoretical framework”; on the other hand, “the product of the transcribing activity should be useful for researchers working with other analytical lenses” (Niemants 2012: 169). Repetition is a major rhetorical strategy for producing emphasis, clarity, amplification or emotional effect. As a literary device, it involves the repetition of the same words or phrases a few times to make an idea clearer. It may take up different forms according to the selected word order, placement and type. The following abbreviations are used in the transcripts: MOD = moderator, DBK = debater Kerry, DBB = debater Bush, QRM = male questioner, QRF = female questioner, INM = moderator’s interpreter, INK = Kerry’s interpreter, INB = Bush’s interpreter, INQM = male questioner’s interpreter, INQF = female questioner’s interpreter. Columns displaying the IT include both the original (Italian) version and its English glossed in italics. Cases of conflict initiated in the second part of the adjacency pair—namely, the answer.

References Bendazzoli, Claudio (2010) Corpora e interpretazione simultanea. Bologna: Asterisco. Bendazzoli, Claudio (2015) Corpus-based research. In Franz Pöchhacker (ed.) The Routledge Encyclopedia of Interpreting Studies. Abingdon: Taylor & Francis Books, 87–91. Bentivegna, Sara (1994) Il processo di costruzione dell’agenda nell’ “arena” dei media. In S. Bentivegna (ed.) Mediare la realtà. Mass media, sistema politico e opinione pubblica. Milano: FrancoAngeli, 7–58. Bionda, Maria Luisa, Bourlot, Alberto, Cobianchi, Vittorio and Villa, Marina (eds.) (1998) Lo spettacolo della politica. Protagonismo e servizio nel talk show elettorale. Roma: RAI-ERI. Blanche-Benveniste, Claire. (2000) Types de corpus. In M. Bilger (ed.) Corpus. Méthodologie et applications linguistiques. Paris: Champion, 11–25. Brodine, R. (1984) Getting the Applause. In R. M. Bollettieri Bosinelli (ed.) U.S. Presidential Election 1984: An Interdisciplinary Approach to the Analysis of Political Discourse. Bologna: Pitagora, 171–211. Cameron, Glen T., Sallot, Lynne M. and Curtin, Patricia A. (1997) Public relations and the production of news: A critical review and a theoretical framework. In B. R. Burleson (ed.) Communication Yearbook (Vol. 20). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 111–155. Cencini, Marco and Aston, Guy (2002) Resurrecting the corp(us/se): Towards an encoding standard for interpreting data. In G. Garzone and M. Viezzi (eds.) Interpreting in the 21st Century, Challenges and Opportunities. Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 47–62.

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Chernov, Ghelly V. (1994) Message redundancy and message anticipation in simultaneous interpreting. In S. Lambert and B. Moser-Mercer (eds.) Bridging the Gap: Empirical Research in Simultaneous Interpretation. Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 139–154. Clayman, Steven E., Elliott, Marc N., Heritage, John and McDonald, Laurie (2006) Historical trends in questioning Presidents, 1953–2000. Presidential Studies Quarterly 36(4): 561–583. Cohen, Bernard (1963) The Press and Foreign Policy. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Dal Fovo, Eugenia (2012) Simultaneous Interpretation on Television: The Case of the Question/Answer Group in the 2004 U.S. Presidential Debathon. Unpublished PhD thesis, University of Trieste. www.openstarts.units.it/dspace/bitstream/ 10077/10078/1/Dal%20Fovo_THESIS.pdf Dayan, Daniel and Katz, Elihu (1992) Media Events: The Live Broadcasting of History. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Falbo, Caterina (2009) Un grand corpus d’interprétation: à la recherche d’une stratégie de classification. In P. Paissa and M. Biagini (eds.) Doctorants & Recherche 08. La recherche actuelle en linguistique française. Milano: Lampi di stampa, 105–120. Falbo, Caterina (2012) CorIT (Television Interpreting Corpus): Classification criteria. In F. Straniero Sergio and C. Falbo (eds.) Breaking Ground in Corpus-based Interpreting Studies. Bern: Peter Lang, 155–186. Gandy, Oscar H. (1982) Beyond Agenda Setting: Information Subsidies and Public Policy. Norwood, NJ: Ablex Pub. Co. Granger, Sylviane (2003) The corpus approach: A common way forward for contrastive linguistics and translation studies?. In S. Granger, J. Lerot and S. Petch-Tyson (eds.) Corpus-based Approaches to Contrastive Linguistics and Translation Studies. Amsterdam: Rodopi, 17–29. Hutchby, Ian (2006) Media Talk: Conversation Analysis and the Study of Broadcasting. Glasgow: Open University Press. Katan, David and Straniero Sergio, Francesco (2003) Submerged ideologies in media interpreting. In M. Calzada Pérez (ed.) Apropos of Ideology. Manchester: St. Jerome, 131–144. Lee, Martin A. and Solomon, Norman (1990) Unreliable Sources: A Guide to Detecting Bias in News Media. New York: Carol. Mack, Gabriele (2002) New perspectives and challenges for interpretation—The example of television. In G. Garzone and M. Viezzi (eds.) 1st Forlì Conference on Interpreting Studies “Interpreting in the 21st Century, Challenges and Opportunities”. Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing Company, 203–213. Maley, Yon and Fahey, Rhonda (1991) Presenting the evidence: Constructions of reality in court. International Journal for the Semiotics of Law 4(10): 3–17. Martin, Philippe (2005) Linguistique de l’oralité: description de la prosodie et analyse instrumentale. The Interpreters’ Newsletter 13: 15–24. Martin, Philippe (2009) Intonation du français. Paris: Armand Colin. McEnery, Tony and Wilson, Andrew. (2001) Corpus Linguistics. An Introduction. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Meacci, Federica (2009) Numeri, nomi ed elenchi nell’interpretazione simultanea televisiva [Numbers, proper nouns and lists in simultaneous interpreting on TV]. Unpublished MA thesis, University of Trieste. Mitrook, Michael A., Seltzer, Trenton C., Kiousis, Spiro K., Popescu, Cristina and Shields, Arlana (2006) First- and second-level agenda building and agenda setting: Terrorism, the President, and the media. Paper Presented at the Annual Meeting of the International Communication Association, Dresden International

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Congress Centre, Dresden, Germany. www.allacademic.com/meta/p93168_index. html (accessed 23 December 2015). Mortara Garavelli, Bice (2008) Manuale di retorica. Milano: Bompiani. Niemants, Natacha S. A. (2012) The transcription of interpreting data. Interpreting 14(2): 165–191. Pincus, J. David, Rimmer, Tony, Rayfiel, Robert E. and Cropp, Fritz (1993) Newspaper editors’ perceptions of public relations: How business, news, and sports editors differ. Journal of Public Relations Research 5: 27–45. Pöchhacker, Franz (2004) Introducing Interpreting Studies. London: Routledge. Schäffner, Christina (1997) Strategies of translating political texts. In A Trosborg (ed.) Text Typology and Translation. Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 119–143. Schroeder, Alan (2008) Presidential Debates: Fifty Years of High-Risk TV. New York: Columbia University Press. Searle, John R. (1983) Intentionality: An Essay in the Philosophy of Mind. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Setton, Robin (2011) Corpus-based Interpreting Studies (CIS): Overview and prospects. In A. Kruger, K. Walmach and J. Munday (eds.) Corpus-based Translation Studies: Research and Applications. London: Continuum, 33–75. Shaw, Eugene F. (1979) Agenda setting and mass communication theory. Gazette International Journal for Mass Communication Studies 25(2): 96–105. Shin, Jae-Wha and Cameron, Glen T. (2003) The interplay of professional and cultural factors in the online source-reporter relationship. Journalism Studies 4: 253–272. Shlesinger, Miriam (1998) Corpus-based interpreting studies as an offshoot of corpus-based translation studies. Meta 43(4): 486–493. Straniero Sergio, Francesco (2003) Norms and quality in media interpreting: The case of Formula One press conferences. The Interpreters’ Newsletter 12: 135–74. Straniero Sergio, Francesco (2007) Talkshow Interpreting: la mediazione linguistica nella conversazione spettacolo. Trieste: EUT. Straniero Sergio, Francesco (in press) Double Renditions in Simultaneous Interpreters’ Output: A Corpus-based Research. Trieste: EUT. Straniero Sergio, Francesco and Falbo, Caterina (2012) Studying interpreting through corpora. An introduction. In F. Straniero Sergio and C. Falbo (eds.) Breaking Ground in Corpus-based Interpreting Studies. Bern: Peter Lang, 9–52. Viezzi, Maurizio (2001) Interpretazione e comunicazione politica. In G. Garzone and M. Viezzi (eds.) Comunicazione specialistica e interpretazione di conferenza. Trieste: EUT, 131–231.

9

Professional Role, Norms and Ethics in Interpreting Studies Research* Claudia Monacelli and Michael S. Boyd

1.

Introduction

In her groundbreaking study, Monacelli (2009) puts forth convincing evidence of distancing, de-personalization and the mitigation of illocutionary force in moves by professional conference interpreters in their struggle for professional survival. This involves subjects in a position of detachment with respect to both the source text and their own text. The overarching trends prevalent in her data are based on the analysis of personal reference, patterns of transitivity and the attribution of agency, mood and modality, and the interpreter’s behaviour in relation to threats to face. This overriding trend, however, does not emerge in other settings. Interpreters employed in legal contexts, for example, often work behind closed doors in confidential settings and are required to adhere to a completely different set of norms. For example, Kalina (2015: 66) discusses norms and ethics in varying contexts and highlights the marked difference among professional settings: In some settings, such as court and medical interpreting, codes of practice are established by providers, i.e. the authorities that are responsible for the functioning of the service and/or for the accreditation of interpreters; this is the case in the U.S. and some other countries. This chapter considers the role of ethics and norms in Interpreting Studies on a number of different interrelated levels with a focus on the contextual constraints encountered by interpreters in a specific legal context, that of civil proceedings mediation. As its point of departure, the study draws on simulated data from the EU-funded project Understanding Justice1 whose remit is to distinguish bilingual mediation (using mediators in the role as interpreters) from the use of interpreters in the same role. The discussion is framed by the notion that the role of interpreting2 in civil mediation may contemplate the necessity of more prescriptive norms. Crucially, the present study highlights the dominant role played by the mediator in establishing and maintaining interpreting norms and ethics in these encounters. We argue that the interpreters occupy a secondary and often subordinate role in

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the encounters, raising further ethical issues especially as regards normative stance. Whereas in cases in which bilingual mediators act as interpreters possibly empowering the other language client by ‘advocating’ the concerns and interests of the weaker and disadvantaged party in the communication situation, interpreters in the same capacity are not accorded such latitude. The empirical data come from simulated mediations using interpreters, which adds yet another dimension to our ethical considerations—namely, can simulated data be used for research purposes on ethics and norms in interpreting studies? And, more importantly, if they can, to what extent? A sociolinguistic and critical discourse analytical approach is applied to analyse simulations of the process produced by the EU project Understanding Justice. In the next section (§2), we provide a definition of mediation within our frame of reference for this chapter. We then provide the analytical framework (§3) we employ to examine our case study and pose a number of important research questions. We introduce our case study based on a simulated bilingual encounters in civil mediation using an interpreter (§4) and discuss the ethical issues concerning the use of simulated data in Interpreting Studies (§5). Finally, conclusions are drawn (§6) on the basis of our discussion.

2.

Mediation

Civil mediation as a social process is informed by structures, rules and norms that constrain the environment within which it operates. Mediators are invited into the negotiation as third parties. They create the process of mediation, defining it through their actions which ultimately transform the mediators into active participants and gatekeepers in this process. In the analysis of our case study (§5) we tease apart the roles and responsibilities of the parties present in mediation cases where interpreters are employed. The practice of bilingual mediation is best documented in cross-border, international family mediation cases or in disputes involving partners from the same state but of different nationalities or different religious or ethnic communities. The sensitivity of these disputes—at times acrimonious divorce, child custody, child abduction—has stimulated the practice of co-mediating that contemplates a tandem team of two specialised bi-cultural and bilingual mediators, each from a different state of origin and preferably from a different, but complementary, background (e.g. legal and socio-psychological expertise) and of a different gender. A barrister and social worker, Marian Roberts (2013, 2015) has operated in the field of mediation for over 30 years. In her assessment of the mediation process in civil cases, she outlines five distinct phases (Table 9.1). As can be noted, she includes ‘facilitating communication’ on the agenda in all phases prior to the final phase when agreement is secured. Phase 1, the commencement and introductory phase, typically clarifies the procedure and the roles of the participants and aims to address the issue

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Table 9.1 The Mediation Process (Adapted from Roberts 2013) Development

Objective

Agenda

Phase 1

Establishing the arena

Phase 2

Clarifying the issues

Phase 3

Exploring the issues

Phase 4

Developing options

Phase 5

Securing agreement

First contact and reception Facilitating communication Agreeing and defining the agenda Facilitating communication Managing differences in the early stage Managing high conflict Facilitating communication Facilitating communication Further information exchange and learning Concluding the session

of who has decision-making roles. In this phase, the issue of confidentiality is addressed. Information is then gathered and investigated in Phase 2, where the subject matter is distinguished, the issues are clarified and the agenda is agreed upon. Phase 3 covers an area in which it is expected that conflict will arise, where the differences between the parties present are most expressed. Oftentimes, these sessions see highly escalated conflict dynamics, lack of trust, feelings of anger and betrayal, the pressure to make far-reaching decisions at short notice. There is also a high level of insecurity and all this leads to very intense sessions. Even so, this is a fact-finding phase where establishing and defining differences are fundamental in the process in order for mediators to determine a movement forward by exploring options and developing solutions in Phase 4. Mediators here facilitate discussions and give evaluative feedback. This, then, ultimately leads to securing—and finalizing—an agreement among parties via a process of bargaining in Phase 5. Roberts (2013, 2015) stresses that the transition from one stage to another results as being the most delicate moment for mediators. As seen in Table 9.1, parties negotiate a mutually acceptable agreement (Phases 5). This is done in the presence of impartial co-mediators who facilitate the process. Although flexible, the process is highly structured, confidential, voluntary and is held in a neutral setting. One can only surmise that, in reality, the process outlined may become quite complex when there are parties that represent more than one cultural background and/or when one or more parties intend to change residences, giving rise to international mediation, or cross-border mediation. This ‘messiness’ of reality (Gulliver 1988) becomes compounded when the need for language assistance arises. In bilingual mediation, people communicate with each other, each using their own language. In Europe, the difficulty in this context lies in the fact that bilingual mediators cover both roles, mediating and interpreting.

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Needless to say, what results is a blurring of boundaries with respect to both the service provider and the other language client. Even in the most consensual and constructive of mediation contexts, however, such as, e.g., social services finding housing for a refugee or health care providing treatment to a patient, the inherently active stance of the interpreter-mediator tends to move far beyond the established professional practice of interpreting proper and the traditional tenets of the codes of conduct or of national standards.3

3.

Analytical Framework

Through the lens of a combined theoretical approach (§3.1), which draws on elements from Critical Discourse Analysis (CDA) and the related branch of the Discourse-Historical Approach (DHA) as well as the Interpreting Studies literature on ethics in confidential settings (§3.2), this chapter aims to address the following fundamental questions: 1. How do we account for the fact that analysts do not have access to authentic interlingual/intercultural settings which require the presence of an interpreter? 2. What can CDA and DHA offer in terms of its tenets on social critique, ethical standards and validity claims of truth? 3. Can an assessment of ethical issues be based purely on simulated encounters in confidential settings? 3.1

Ethics and Norms in CDA and DHA

CDA is a branch of discourse analysis that is underpinned by a number of ethical principles. Crucially, it envisions discourse as both a product of social interaction and a powerful force in reshaping social practices (Fairclough 1995, 2010; Fairclough and Wodak 1997; Wodak and Chilton 2007). Furthermore, researchers who adhere to this current are consciously involved in social critique and work to uncover how language and social functions are used to constitute and transmit knowledge, organize social institutions and/or exercise power (Wodak and Meyer 2009: 7). The ethical side of CDA is dictated “by a sense of justice based on the normative and universalist conviction of the unrestricted validity of human rights” (Reisigl and Wodak 2001: 33). In other words, Critical Discourse Analysts are expected to abide by “superior ethical standards” and “make their position, research interests and values explicit and their criteria as transparent as possible” (Wodak and Meyer 2009: 7). One of the most important sub-branches of CDA is the DHA as advocated chiefly by Ruth Wodak and Martin Reisigl (Reisigl and Wodak 2009; Reisigl 2014). This current provides a further clarification on the nature of discourse that can be useful for the analysis of civil mediation encounters.

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Reisigl (2014: 69) sees discourse as being defined on the basis of the following elements: 1. It is a network of “context-dependent semiotic practices that are situated within specific fields of social action”, such as politics or, in our case, civil mediation. 2. It is both socially constituted and constitutive. 3. It is linked to both a macro-topic and argumentation about validity claims (truth and normative rightness), involving social actors that have different perspectives. We argue that these three notions can also be applied to the field of civil mediation. First, as we shall see in the following discussion, the semiotic practices that are, crucially, both verbal as well as nonverbal, are dependent on contextual constraints within the highly regulated field of civil mediation. Second, there is a dialectical relationship between a specific civil mediation event and “the situation(s), institution(s) and social structure(s), which frame it” (Fairclough and Wodak 1997: 258) so that this event is dynamic and is moulded by these contextual features through an ongoing process while also playing a part in reshaping them. Finally, part of the last point made by Reisigl is also applicable to the current study. Without going into too much detail about argumentation theory, which is well beyond the scope of this chapter (for further discussion see, e.g., Walton 2007), what is important here is how a so-called validity claim of truth is related to knowledge, epistemic certainty, or normative rightness, in other words “to questions of practical norms or ethical and moral standards, to questions of what should be done or must not be done or what is recommended or forbidden” (Reisigl 2014: 70). Thus we argue that participants in civil mediation are also influenced by such validity claims in that they determine the ethical standards of what should or should not be done, which are clearly laid out at the beginning of the encounter. As we shall see in what follows (§3.2), however, these ethical and normative issues are also framed by factors influenced by the dynamicity of authentic interpreting contexts in confidential settings. 3.2 Ethics and Norms in Interpreting Studies Research on Confidential Settings In essence, all ethically based questions fundamentally concern the construct of agency, in this case interpreter agency. Bandura (1997: 6) describes human agency as “a transactional view of self and society, internal personal factors in the form of cognitive, affective, and biological events; behaviour; and environmental events all act as interacting determinants that influence one another bidirectionally”. This transactional view of self and society provides insight into what is at stake during professional practice.

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Personal agency is enmeshed in a social network and is conditioned by the influence a social environment has on the dynamics of communication as it unfolds during mediation sessions. In professional interpreting circles the social network also implies the social organization of the profession. Therefore a sense of agency, and its characteristics, may be socially governed or dictated, and thus come within the realm of normative behaviour (Monacelli 2009: 31–33). However, interpreters working in civil mediation cases are subjected to a completely different set of norms, governed instead by civil mediation regulations. A closer look at how processes are presented in civil mediation sessions— and how speakers attribute agency in texts—makes it possible to evince the nature of the interpreter’s role in this setting. Our case study (§5) represents data drawn from simulations of civil mediation sessions with the presence of an interpreter. As will be seen, interpreters are specifically briefed on how they are to proceed throughout the mediation sessions, and are specifically told that the mediators control the information flow and thus act as gatekeepers. In contrast to this, the dynamic environment which frames authentic interpreting contexts suggests that an interpreter’s ethical role should be seen as situated and enacted rather than as responding to pre-established norms. In this latter sense, there are a number of studies that discuss ethics with respect to interpreting assignments in confidential settings. Monacelli and Punzo (2001) flesh out epistemological issues concerning communication and then offer a pragmatic description of face-to-face encounters using an interpreter. They voice a ‘military’ perspective and use simulated examples to argue their point. Instead of reasoning in terms of fidelity and equivalence when assessing an interpreter’s behaviour, they turn to fuzzy logic and probability, in light of the indeterminate nature of communication. They ultimately suggest that the interpreter embody ethics, dealing pragmatically with issues of power at a metacommunicative level citing several examples extracted from simulations carried out during an interpreter-training course for the Italian Army. Instead of relying on simulated data in their study, Boyd and Monacelli (2012) bring forth findings concerning interpreting in the confidential setting of the Italian Ministry of Defence (MoD) on the basis of empirical data taken from semi-structured interviews with current and former MoD Translators/Interpreters. Although the authors have an ingroup relation with the interviewees, this nonetheless did not allow them access to the inner workings of the interpreting profession within the MoD. Instead, they propose an analytical framework that envisages the application of CDA/ DHA to genre chains within the MoD. They carried out interviews with both MoD in-house Translator/Interpreters (their job profile title) and freelance interpreters who work for the MoD in the same capacity. The secrecy of MoD documents lies in the fact that they often include information about (top) secret military cooperation activities or the exchange of military equipment. Even though during the actual drafting stage Translator/Interpreters

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are excluded from the genre, as Boyd and Monacelli explain, not all of these documents remain classified, so that at least some of the texts are accessible to—and therefore inclusive of—all professionals working at the MoD, regardless of their security clearance. Boyd and Monacelli interview professionals and all respondents mention using the Memorandum of Understanding (MOU) since unclassified MOUs, in fact, become important reference documents for both in-house and freelance professionals and can be used for purposes of recontextualization and general genre-building during other stages of the genre chain in the MoD. Monacelli (2016b) adds both an analytical layer to the aforementioned study (Boyd and Monacelli 2012) and a reflexive turn in her discussion of the position of the analyst in studies conducted on confidential settings. She applies Goffman’s theatre metaphor (1990/1959) to describe the ‘staging’ of interpreting in the same MoD setting as noted earlier, and pits analysts—along with members of the press, new media, etc.—as ‘outsiders’ and ‘bystanders’. She specifically discusses the boundary between private and public life, as well as issues of power in relation to all ‘actors’ involved, pointing out how ever more frequently the flow of information eludes institutional gatekeeping. In this sense, the current study—based on the use of simulations—may also be likened to information that, in some way, eludes institutional gatekeeping. Although the Understanding Justice project has produced these videos for training purposes, it nonetheless does indeed open the doors to civil mediation sessions that are otherwise strictly confidential in nature.

4.

Methodology

In an attempt to formalise the analysis of our case study (§5), we here distinguish research procedures involved in eliciting, gathering and managing our data. Subsequently, we shall discuss (§6) the moral principles guiding research from “its inception through to completion and the publication of results” (Dean 2014: 5) and their relevance (in our case, findings from simulated data) in terms of what they may contribute to Interpreting Studies research. We lean on the Code of Human Research Ethics put forth by the British Psychological Society’s Code of Ethics and Conduct (2014) to guide us in our case study. As ethical research conduct is essentially the application of formal reasoning founded on a set of moral principles, we openly state the values that underpin our study (§3) and make them available for discussion and debate and allow the possibility of clarification and change (BPS 2014: 7). Concerning participants in our study we, on the one hand, recognise their respective roles and guarantee anonymity, thus respecting confidentiality in terms of their identity (BPS 2014: 9). At the same time, the assessment of scientific value “must be appropriate within the context in which the research is being conducted” (BPS 2014: 10). And, most importantly, “a difference in power inevitably exists between researchers and participants, even if researchers seek to minimise it” (BPS 2014: 11–12). Concerning this issue of

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power, the Understanding Justice project organised and ‘staged’ simulated mediation sessions with interpreters where members of the project team have also partaken in the simulation (cf. Monacelli 2016a). Participation was voluntary and all parties were guaranteed anonymity. All interpreters in the sessions were professional.

5.

Case Study

The case study is based on excerpts from two simulated bilingual mediations: one in Spanish with English and the other in English with Romanian. For questions of time, we will limit our discussion to 12 short extracts—comprising a total of 19:04 minutes—available at the Understanding Justice website, which are provided in Table 9.2.4 Table 9.2 Video Clips Examined in Case Study Clip

Time

Languages Who’s Who

1

1:03

English

2

1:22

Spanish

3

1:44

Spanish

4

1:34

5

1:05

English/ Romanian English

6

0:15

English

7

1:41

English/ Spanish

8

1:49

9

1:32

English/ Spanish English/ Spanish

10

2:34

English/ Romanian

11

2:33

12

1:55

English/ Romanian English/ Romanian

Total time 19:07

Robyn (Mediator) establishes the arena, determines the information flow and interprets modality Gemma (Co-mediator) explains expectations to interpreter Franco (Mediator) explains mediation phases to interpreter Elizabeth (Co-mediator) explains mediation rules and expectations to interpreter and parties Robyn (Mediator) facilitates communication in the phase clarifying the issues by asking Jim (Grandfather) to intervene Jim (Grandfather) explains he understands turn-taking management Franco (Mediator) establishes the arena, first contacts are made; Gemma (Co-mediator) explains interpreting dynamics Franco (Mediator) explores issues with Veronica (Neighbour) and Brooke (Neighbour) Gemma (Co-mediator) explores issues with Brooke (Neighbour). Interpreter working in consecutive mode using note-taking Robyn (Mediator) explores issues with Julia (Daughter-in-law) and Jim (Grandfather; Interpreter working in consecutive mode, no note-taking Robyn (Mediator) manages high conflict and facilitates communication Robyn (Mediator) develops options, facilitates communication, gathers further information exchange and learning

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In both simulated mediation sessions there are five people involved: a mediator, a co-mediator, one interpreter, two conflicting parties. In the video clips, the roles are defined in the very first phase of the mediation process by the mediators, who have a dominant role throughout the process acting as gatekeepers in the information flow. In video clip 1, the mediator unequivocally tells the interpreter she is to wait until the speaker stops speaking before she interprets (“we expect only one person to speak at one time”). He even specifies the turn-taking time frame (“we will speak for maybe 30 seconds or a minute, then stop”). The co-mediator also clarifies the turn-taking process, specifying that turns will probably be limited to about 30 seconds (“a lot can be said in a minute”), by saying, “We would just give you a couple of sentences, two or three sentences, and then we would stop talking”. In video clip 2, the mediator—upon greeting the interpreter—mentions that they understand he has worked as a court interpreter and explains that the interpreting requirements for mediation purposes, are much more flexible than in the courtroom (“than what you are used to in a legal setting”), stressing that “it is important to explain to you briefly what the dynamics of mediation usually are”. She, however, goes on to tell the interpreter that he is to refrain from adding any personal interpretation of what is said, and requests him to interpret literally, since they (mediators) have to “apply certain techniques to ‘clean’ the language”. They tell him this is because they “like to have the control over the communication”. This implies both communicating the speaker’s tone and intentionality, as the interpreter states. Mediators also stress that the interpreter should signal to them any cultural difficulty that they “may not notice but you [the interpreter] do”; he should tell them “in all confidence”. What is interesting to note, in video clip 3, is that the mediator explains the phases 1 and 2 (Table 9.1) to the interpreter, then specifically informs him to tell him “if at any time any of the parties is disrespectful and insults each other, please look at us before interpreting, so that we can tell you not to translate”. In this video clip, the mediator mentions that everything said to the interpreter will also be repeated to the parties in conflict. He also stresses that while they “don’t want to put that responsibility” on the interpreter, the latter needs to be aware “that insults here are considered an element of conflict escalation” that have to be controlled by the mediators. The interpreter is told to inform the mediator(s) of any disrespectful forms of address (“it would be better if you consult with us, or if you say ‘the gentleman here has just insulted the other’”). In video clip 4, the co-mediator explains the mediation rules to the interpreter and the parties. Essentially the mediation process “only goes on as long as you both continue to want to do it”. The mediator adds “if mediation ends, it just stops”. This shifts the onus onto the parties in conflict in terms of the duration and success of the process. In line with this, and to solicit a response, the mediator in video clip 5 questions one party whether he is actually listening, since he has not intervened as yet (“there is a risk that because

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there’s dialogue going on between you two and from us two, there’s very little happening for Jim”). Yet the party (Jim) does indeed respond in video clip 6 that he is used to waiting for the process (interpreting) before intervening, but they still apologise to him for making him listen to everything twice. Interestingly, in video clip 7, we see that both mediators make a point of explaining to the Spanish party (while the interpreter works into English for the other party) that indeed the interpreting will also be effected for her when the other party speaks. In terms of what the Spanish party will hear with respect to the interpretation, the co-mediator says, “Many times you will notice it is shorter because we try to condense the information, but you will get a literal translation”. He further explains that “we will all have to adapt to these dynamics” using a first-person plural pronoun that indeed includes the interpreter linguistically but—on a pragmatic level—excludes the interpreter from any procedural decision making. This clip also highlights the importance of seating arrangements for the mediation and interpreting, further exemplifying the mediator’s fundamental gatekeeping function (“you can sit here”). Video clip 8 highlights the rather delicate nature of using whisper interpreting (chuchotage) in the mediation process. Since the interpreter is whispering his version to the English party, and the communication flow continues, the mediator (who had informed the interpreter that he understood English) says to the Spanish party, “What he has tried to say, as I understood, is that he got that impression from you”. This is because, when the English party spoke, the interpreter used whisper interpreting to the Spanish party alone, and neither mediator nor co-mediator received a Spanish version. In video clip 9, we see a shift in the interpreting modality. The interpreter is now using the consecutive mode and is taking notes, whereas the interpreter in video clip 10 does not make use of note-taking when working in the consecutive mode. In video clip 9, the mediator also nods her head in agreement to what is being said in English, even though she had clearly stated from the outset that she does not speak English, providing an example of relevant nonverbal communication. The mediator’s pervasive gatekeeping role is propounded in video clip 11, where the mediator intervenes forcefully, by cutting off the English party, as soon as he understands that the English party is about to escalate conflict by raising his voice, thus nodding his head to the interpreter as a signal to continue. The interpreting mode shifts once again during phases 4 and 5 when the Romanian party becomes somewhat emotional in her explanation of why she does not want her daughter to spend time with her grandfather. Each single phrase is interpreted one at a time as the description progresses.

6.

Discussion and Conclusion

In this section we reconsider some of the data presented in §5 in light of the theoretical and methodological issues introduced in §3 and §4. We argue that, on the basis of our data, such simulated encounters are indeed

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a valuable resource for the purpose of gauging, to some extent, the repercussions of ethical and normative constraints found in civil mediation with bilingual interpreting. We first re-examine the roles of the participants in these encounters as these roles are crucial for determining how the information flow is established. As we have seen in §5, in civil mediation the mediators have a clearly defined role in deciding how much information should be given in “chunks” before interpreting (approximately 30 seconds), how turns should be taken (with “only one person speaking at any one time”), which interpreting modality is to be used in the session (video clip 1), how to deal with any information that may be either culturally unexpected (video clip 2) or offensive (video clip 3), etc. Furthermore, interpreters are requested to provide feedback about the latter “in all confidence” (video clip 2), also as a way to avoid any conflict escalation (video clip 3). Such elements would appear to extend the interpreter’s role to one of confidant vis-à-vis the mediators. By requiring the interpreters to follow such norms, however, mediators clearly have the upper hand in the encounter not only as gatekeepers but also as power brokers. This dominant role (as compared to the interpreter’s subordinate one) is clearly played out in the semiotic practices—both verbal and nonverbal—adopted by the mediators. There seems to be conflicting, unclear expectations of the interpreter’s role on the part of the mediator (video clip 3), since the mediator first requests that the interpreter signal conflict throughout the process but then says “I don’t not want to put this responsibility on you” and goes on to explain that this mainly serves to hinder conflict escalation. The mediator in this case indeed suggests that he use the third party—metalanguage—to inform them that one party has employed offensive language, before deciding to interpret it as such. A lack of clarity concerning expectations is again displayed in video clip 4 where mediators tell the parties that the process is in their (the conflicting parties’) control. At any time, they can choose to continue or cease the mediation process. At this point, we begin to see the difficult role of interpreters in this context because they are integrated as a fourth element in an otherwise triadic encounter. Furthermore, in video clip 7, the point is made (by the co-mediator) that the different language versions may be longer or shorter, but that the interpretation will nonetheless be literal. Here, too, there is a sense of ambiguity in the co-mediator’s statement, and in what they expect from the interpreter. In CDA and DHA, the use (or choice) of certain linguistic forms over others is viewed as an indicator of personal commitment and evaluation and, consequently, it embodies the dominant and subordinate roles of the speakers. Two important linguistic phenomena often considered are modality and pronominal use. Modality can indicate how committed speakers are in term of truth and obligation or necessity (Fairclough 2003: 194), while firstand second-person pronouns can be a powerful tool for speakers to position themselves in the ongoing discourse (Boyd 2016: 211–212). Thus they can

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either indicate and/or obscure collectivity or individuality (Fairclough 2003: 162). If we return to the data discussed in §5, we can find a number of insightful examples. The following examples illustrate the use of different types of modality: “We expect only one person to speak at one time” (video clip 1). “It would be better if you consult with us, or if you say ‘the gentleman here has just insulted the other’” (video clip 3). “You can sit here” (video clip 7). While the first two examples are clearly examples of obligation—i.e. the mediator uses a modal expression to oblige the interpreter to cooperate with the established norms of mediation—the example from video clip 7 ostensibly gives the interlocutor a choice by employing the modal “can”. The meaning however is clearly deontic in that the speaker is in the dominant position requiring the parties in conflict and the interpreter to sit in certain, specified positions. In video clip 1, we can see some examples of ‘we’ used with an exclusive meaning, in that the interpreter is excluded from the pragmatic function of the pronoun. In examples such as “we expect”, “we will speak”, “we would just give you” the interlocutor (interpreter) is not part of the implied meaning. An even more insightful example can be found in video clip 7 when the mediator says “we will all have to adapt to these dynamics” in which the meaning of first-person plural pronoun combined with the deontic modal “have to” together create a strong obligation on the part of the interpreter. Such usage of ‘we’ mirrors doctor/patient relations in which this pronoun is often used by a physician to establish institutional footing and to stress an exclusive and dominant position (Rees and Monrouxe 2008). We could say then that this example stresses the mediator’s institutional footing clearly establishing their dominant role in the encounter. Yet, personal roles are not defined only by verbal means, as nonverbal behaviour also plays an important part in civil mediation encounters. For example, the co-mediator in video clip 9 nods her head in agreement to what is being said in English, even after having said she did not speak English, attests to her dominant role in the process. No other party, nor any interpreter, ever uses this form of nonverbal communication. Even the power exercised in the positioning of parties—on behalf of the co-mediator (video clip 7)—bears witness to the dominant roles that mediators claim in this setting. Returning to our quote by Kalina (2015: 66) in the Introduction, we thus confirm that in civil mediation, too, providers (mediators) encode professional practice for interpreters. We have, nonetheless, presented ample evidence as to the ambiguity of expectations in terms of how the interpreter’s role fits as a fourth element in these otherwise triadic encounters (mediator-conflicting party A-conflicting party B). While our data come in the form of simulated encounters we would argue that a number of important ethical and normative issues still clearly emerge especially in terms of the role played by both mediators and interpreters. First of all, working on such data allows us to focus on only certain aspects of the encounter, namely

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that concerning the role of the mediator in establishing and maintaining the ‘integrity’ of the encounter. Second, by using simulated legal issues, the conflict itself moves ‘backstage’, bringing both mediators and interpreters ‘frontstage’. Kalina’s “codes of practice” (2015) are thoroughly laid out by the mediators in the simulated cases and, more importantly, their powerful role in ensuring the proper functioning of the encounter is evident in all of the examples we analysed. Consequently, a dialectical relationship between the mediator and the interpreter is both moulded by these factors and plays an important role in reshaping the practice (of both civil mediation and interpreting in this particular context). Finally, mediators act as gatekeepers in establishing validity claims of truth in a process of power brokering questions of both “practical norms” and “moral standards” (Reisigl 2014: 70).

Notes * While both authors worked on the conception of this chapter together, Claudia Monacelli is responsible for Sections 2, 3.2, 4, and 5 and Michael S. Boyd is responsible for Sections 1, 3, 3.1, and 6. 1. JUST/2013/JCIV/AG/4000004684 2. See Zwischenberger, Chapter 3 in this volume, concerning the construct of role. 3. Canadian National Standard Guide for Community Interpreting Services (2007) www.imiaweb.org/uploads/pages/306.pdf 4. https://vimeopro.com/user17897690/understanding-justice-clips-selected

References Bandura, Albert (1997) Self-Efficacy: Exercise of Control. New York: Freeman. BPS Code of Human Research Ethics (2014) The British Psychological Study. Boyd, Michael S. (2016) Who/where is Joe the plumber? Interpreting in the US Presidential Debates. In C. Bendazzoli and C. Monacelli (eds.) Addressing Methodological Challenges in Interpreting Studies Research. Newcastle Upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 201–227. Boyd, Michael S. and Monacelli, Claudia (2012) Genre in/exclusion and recontextualization: Interpreting at the Italian Ministry of Defence. In C. J. Kellet Bidoli (ed.) Interpreting Across Genres: Multiple Research Perspectives. Trieste: EUT (Edizioni Università di Trieste), 182–200. Dean, Robyn K. (2014) Condemned to repetition? An analysis of problem-setting and problem-solving in sign language interpreting ethics. Translation & Interpreting 6(1): 60–75. Fairclough, Norman (1995) Media Discourse. London: E. Arnold. Fairclough, Norman (2003) Analysing Discourse: Textual Analysis for Social Research. London: Routledge. Fairclough, Norman (2010) Critical Discourse Analysis: The Critical Study of Language. Harlow: Longman. Fairclough, Norman and Wodak, Ruth (1997) Critical discourse analysis. In T. A. Van Dijk (ed.) Introduction to Discourse Studies. London: Sage, 258–284. Goffman, Erving (1990/1959) The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life. Harmondsworth: Penguin. Gulliver, Philip H. (1988) Anthropological contributions to the study of negotiations. Negotiation Journal 4(3): 247–255.

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Kalina, Silvia (2015) Ethical challenges in different interpreting settings. MonTI Special Issue 2: 63–86. Monacelli, Claudia and Punzo, Roberto (2001) Ethics in the fuzzy domain of interpreting: A “military” perspective. The Translator, Special Issue: New Ethics for New Forms of Translation? 7(2): 265–282. Monacelli, Claudia (2009) Self-preservation in Simultaneous Interpreting. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Monacelli, Claudia (2016a) Ethical issues emerging in civil mediation cases using interpreters. In B. Townsley (ed.) Understanding Justice: An Enquiry Into Interpreting in Civil Justice and Mediation, Co-funded by the Civil Justice Programme of the European Union. London: Middlesex University, 183–192. Monacelli, Claudia (2016b) Methods to contextual madness: Taking what is not given in confidential settings. In C. Bendazzoli and C. Monacelli (eds.) Addressing Methodological Challenges in Interpreting Studies Research. Newcastle Upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 32–60. Rees, Charlotte E. and Monrouxe, Lynn (2008) “Is it alright if I-um-we unbutton your pyjama top now?” Pronominal use in bedside teaching encounters. Communication & Medicine 5(2): 171–181. Reisigl, Martin (2014) Argumentation analysis and the discourse-historical approach: A methodological framework. In C. Hart and P. Cap (eds.) Contemporary Critical Discourse Studies. London: Bloomsbury, 67–96. Reisigl, Martin and Wodak, Ruth (2001) Discourse and Discrimination: Rhetorics of Racism and Anti-Semitism. London: Routledge. Reisigl, Martin and Wodak, Ruth (2009) The Discourse-Historical Approach (DHA). In R. Wodak and M. Meyer (eds.) Methods of Critical Discourse Analysis. London: Sage, 87–121. Roberts, Marian (2013) A-Z of Mediation. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Roberts, Marian (2015) Mediation in Family Disputes: Principles of Practice (4th ed.). Farnham: Ashgate. Walton, Douglas (2007) Media Argumentation: Dialectic, Persuasion, and Rhetoric. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Wodak, Ruth and Chilton, Paul (2007) A New Agenda in (Critical) Discourse Analysis: Theory, Methodology, and Interdisciplinarity. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Wodak, Ruth and Meyer, Michael (2009) Critical discourse studies: A sociocognitive approach. In R. Wodak and M. Meyer (eds.) Methods of Critical Discourse Analysis. London: Sage, 1–33.

Part IV

Norms, Quality and Ethics A Discussion

10 Norms Revisited Carlo Marzocchi

1.

Introduction

A bit more than ten years ago, in an article for University of Trieste’s Interpreter’s Newsletter (SSLMIT), I reviewed some of the literature on how the notion of norms could be applied to (conference) interpreting research (Marzocchi 2005). That reflection was mainly triggered by the encounter with the late Miriam Shlesinger, and her work inspired by the Israeli tradition of Descriptive Translation Studies, and by the exchanges with visiting scholars and fellow participants in the Tarragona doctoral workshops led by Anthony Pym. It also reflected a search for concepts that would guide my own translatorial behaviour as, then, a practicing conference interpreter for the EU institutions. Subsequent professional choices then led me away from interpreting as a practice and as an area of research, even though to this day, I am a frequent, grateful user of conference interpreting in the EU context. That article, however, went on to have some life of its own and various researchers were kind enough to cite it, as a convenient ‘Reader’s Digest’ on what is at stake when applying the notion of translational norms to interpreting. These introductory remarks should justify why the present volume includes a chapter by someone who, strictly speaking, is no longer a scholar nor a practitioner. As a result of that, readers will forgive if the following pages conform, at best, to the standards of a hopefully well-argued essay, rather than to those of solid scientific enquiry. Although in fact, in this volume, Daniel Gile (Chapter 12) brilliantly sums up the latter as “a will to be as thorough as possible, as rigorous as possible, systematically sceptical and self-sceptical and cautious in one’s inferences”, which I would argue applies to the former as well. That 2005 article was itself a (re)discovery of papers dating back to the first half of the 1990s by Shlesinger, Harris, Chesterman, Schjoldager and others. That first wave of interest in norms coincided, and fit in well, with a fledgling interest in interpreting in non-conference settings—an area that some of us, in Trieste but also in other training institutions (e.g. Vienna) were just discovering through, for example, the series of Critical Link conference proceedings. And what an eye-opener that was.

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If you wanted to address the complexity the conference interpreter faced when dealing with political speeches and ideology, and go beyond a generic notion of rotating fidelity to the speakers’ intentions, then the challenges described in the community interpreting literature provided a wealth of cases to compare and contrast. Combined with that, the variability inherent in the notion of norms allowed you to avoid one-size-fits-all prescription when devising specific translational solutions. Applied to the classroom setting in Trieste, that led to the slightly ironical situation whereby a handful of junior academics would be training interpreters mainly for, or aspiring to, the conference market at national level and in international organisations, but would rather draw their conceptual tools from the court and community interpreting literature. The main goal of studying norms in interpreting, as it would appear to this writer back then, could be summarised as exploiting the ‘undefining’ potential of the DTS approach—i.e. acknowledging and making sense of how variable translatorial behaviour can be construed diachronically and across settings. This came with two challenges: mapping the processes, in training and professional life, but also in the wider social discourse on interpreting, where norms are set, transmitted, and enforced, and distinguishing, in the textual evidence, what can be ascribed to cognitive factors from what may reflect compliance with norms. These goals and challenges still provide the lens through which I read some of the contributions in the present volume, offering in the next few pages the occasional experience-based counterpoint.

2.

It’s All About Institutional Constraints

The chapter by Monacelli and Boyd (Chapter 9) exemplifies opportunities and challenges in researching norms. The fact that the textual evidence they use comes from simulated interaction does not, in my opinion, impact heavily on the possibility to make cautious inferences from it; ultimately, the behaviour of expert agents in interactions simulated for training purposes can be assumed to reflect at least some of the professional norms and expectations obtaining on that particular type of interaction. In fact, the training purpose could even have led participants to be more self-reflective and explicit than in a real interaction in articulating and ‘staging’ the norms. Rather, it is the small size of the sample, barely 20 minutes of interaction overall, that justifies extreme caution in drawing any conclusions. A call for replication of this analysis is due here, for example, on samples which would—ideally—be differentiated in terms of languages and cultures involved, socio-demographics and professional background of the participants, and, why not, gender of the mediator and interpreter. Monacelli and Boyd find instances of explicit gatekeeping on the part of the mediator, who shapes various aspects of the interaction including turn-taking, and does verbalise fairly articulate initial and operational

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norms for the interpreter. Interestingly, the mediator shows some awareness of different interpretation settings and their respective, alleged initial norms, as testified by the fact that she compares the interpreter’s role with the one in court interpreting: “Interpreting requirements are much more flexible than [. . .] what you are used to in legal settings”. On closer inspection, the requirements are nevertheless rather strict, and include a call to actively censor derogatory language, and to signal cultural difficulties (it would be interesting to know how this is done in practice—a shift of person, of tone of voice, a standard introductory phrase?). These explicit operational norms addressed to the interpreter contrast with the much simpler and confusing reference, in the mediator’s discourse addressed to another participant, to a “literal but condensed” translation (sic). The authors conclude that what we see here is the mediator setting the code of professional practice for the interpreter, who is “integrated as a fourth element” in the otherwise triadic exchange. Underlying this, there is a teleological notion of how the interpreter can contribute to the institutional goal of the exchange—i.e. assist the mediator in policing language so as to keep the mediation open. I would argue that there is nothing strange or even particularly ‘wrong’ in the fact that linguists’ norms or codes of practice are shaped by a variety of other actors in the institution they serve. Translatorial work for complex organisations provides plenty of examples: in fieldwork on the practice of court interpreting in a civil law system such as Italy, where proceedings are still very much paper-based, we found that operational norms for the interpreter were largely shaped by the need to obtain a usable record of proceedings, in a collective effort shared by all expert participants in the hearing and led by the presiding judge (Roncalli 2001). Similarly, consider how the reliance on interpreting into the B language and the introduction of remote interpreting in the EU institutions reflect the logistical needs of an operation of unprecedented scale. At the same time, in written translation, consider how EU translated texts usually keep the original’s sentence boundaries, even when target language adequacy would warrant changing them; the aim there is to facilitate parallel reading in multilingual meetings. Or consider how the use of institutional names in the original language in translated texts from the European Court of Justice—in fact a ‘non-translation’ operational norm—reflects the lawyers’ wish to avoid suggesting unwarranted equivalences between legal institutions. It should also not be underestimated that norms are established over time and through a complex mechanism involving a variety of agents inside and outside the specific institution. In the case discussed by Monacelli and Boyd, we may be faced here with a particular stage of norms in the making for an institution—civil mediation—which seems to be at the intersection of legal and community settings. Indeed, the fact that the sample consists of instructional videos would warrant exploring to what extent the norms assertively set out by this particular mediator are already established—i.e. shared by the wider community of agents in this particular institution.

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Saying that there is nothing inherently wrong in the fact that institutional agents shape the norms that direct the interpreter’s behaviour, and doing so in line with institutional goals, does not mean that nothing can go wrong. The authors rightly focus on the mediator’s statement, in the sample, to the effect that “we try to condense the information, but you will get a literal translation”. Without wanting to read too much into a single piece of textual evidence, this points to a possible source of conflict between the expectations of one party to the exchange, and the goal-oriented condensation norm set out by the mediator. It would be interesting to see, on a larger sample, whether there are instances when participants give feedback on the interpreter’s output and negotiate a different one on the continuum between condensed and literal. More broadly, this sample is a useful reminder of the need for interpreter-training institutions to transmit a flexible range of skills, so that interpreters are equipped to comply with different initial and operational norms in different settings, and possibly able to see where norms collide, as would obviously be the case if they were instructed to ‘condense and be literal’. It is also interesting that the mediator, who displays an expert view of how to use the interpreter’s range of skills to keep the interaction going, then resorts to a rather ‘default’ statement as to what a proper translation is (i.e. a “literal” one) when he wants to reassure the participant, who is arguably less used to working with interpreters. This points, if need be, to the prevalence of a widely held conduit norm, as illustrated elsewhere by Zwischenberger (2015).

3.

Essentially Post-Modern?

As said, the interest in norms in interpreting built on DTS’s radical view of the relativity of translational prescriptions, and coincided with what Monacelli elsewhere (2015: 143) describes as a change “in the epistemological stance taken within interpreting studies, from introspective to empiricist to constructivist”. It can indeed be argued that this interest into how the reality of and expectations on interpreting are socially constructed reflects a post-modern approach to meaning and to knowledge in general. However, I would politely take issue with the author of Chapter 2, Paola Gentile, on whether it is sound, or even productive, to qualify “conference interpreting as a post-modern profession”, especially when at the same time it is admitted that “it originated to serve the communication needs of the twentieth century society”. Indeed, Gentile provides an accurate overview, based on the literature on the history of the profession, of the flashpoints in the evolution of conference interpreting—i.e. roughly ‘from intellectual feat to profession’. She rightly points out that the spaces in which a profession is carried out contribute to defining it, as does its representation in media and other cultural

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artefacts. However, I am less comfortable with her claim that “the evolution of conference interpreting in a non-anthropological space has led to an ill-defined collective identity of the profession”. First, it can certainly be argued that many of the spaces where conference interpreters have exercised their craft since the beginnings of the profession, e.g., typically, the seats of international organisations, are devoid of history and, by an already stretched extension, of an identity of their own. However, that does not mean that there are not a myriad of interactions, taking place in those allegedly ‘non-anthropological’ spaces, between agents each of whom carries an institutional role. Dumping all conference interpreting settings into the category of ‘non-spaces’ (Augé 1995) risks making us less attentive, in research, to the sometimes trivial materiality of these interactions, and to how these, in turn, shape the norms prevailing in that particular setting. A possible research project may illustrate this point. In the early 2000s, the idea was launched, and then dropped, to resort more often to liaison interpreting at the European Parliament. Had it gone through, this could have brought about a rethinking of operational norms, for example by exposing interpreters to condensation techniques deemed unacceptable in the booth. It could even have blurred the boundary between oral and written translation, due to the different user needs at work in smaller meetings focused on drafting, where the new service was to be deployed. Researching the micro interactions around that idea between politicians, managers of interpreting services, other officials, and tracing the reasons that prevented it from materialising, implies conceptualising the institution in which this happened in much more nuanced terms than a ‘post-modern non-place’, and reconstructing the identities, cultural assumptions, motivations of participants, in other words their history. It means ascribing elements of one’s own culture to the organisation, despite its floating in a post-modern space. A sweeping characterisation of interpreters’ spaces also means neglecting the diachronic dimension; i.e. the fact that those who are trapped in, or lucky enough to have reached these spaces will each come with their own, layered, complex cultures and identities, and that in time a distinctive interculture may well develop among them. A more nuanced, layered notion of admittedly vague concepts such as identity and culture is probably needed here; on the latter, the groundwork laid by Hans Vermeer and later, for interpreting, by Franz Pöchhacker in the mid-1990s comes to mind. Second, and related to the aforementioned, we may like to say that the collective identity of the profession is ill-defined (though I prefer to speak of an inherent variability), but this should not prevent us from being aware of, and researching, some remarkably strong components of the professional infrastructure, such as interpreter-training institutions, as well as national and supranational professional organisations—on which in fact there has been some scholarly interest in recent years. Despite their varying degrees of success in representing the profession, the sheer longevity, prestige and

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geographical coverage of some associations—including but not limited to AIIC—warrants the hypothesis that they have had some norm-setting role. The cases of associations clustering and splitting may well point to underlying, conflicting norms upheld by members. Again, research on the micro level of industrial relations between interpreters and their employers in international organisations, if we go beyond the anecdotal reference to the 1974 UN strike and look, for example, at topical issues such as retour, remote interpreting, team strength, duration of assignments, could provide interesting insights and qualify the perception of a profession in the midst of an identity crisis. I used the phrase ‘industrial relations’ deliberately, as it leads me to a third and last remark on the nevertheless well-documented chapter by Gentile. Regardless of how much interpreters may feel they share an identity that is defined by its being in-between and “liquid” in Bauman’s sense (2003), and regardless of how much this identity is reinforced by the mass media, this is not enough to qualify as post-modern the way the interpreter’s work is organised. In fact, my impression is exactly the opposite—i.e. that the interpreter’s work in large international organisations—or at least the couple I know—is rather an example of the positivistic rationality underlying industrial modernity. Consider the size of interpreting departments, the tendency to increase their scale in order to achieve economies, the increasingly automated methods with which assignments, shifts (yes, shifts), team compositions are planned, the automated interfaces for the recruitment of freelancers; consider further how the individual interpreter’s set of skills and expertise is reduced to a language combination—i.e. ultimately a set of data—the way this data is then mapped onto another abstraction, the language regime, which in turn reduces the goals, the participants, the specialised language, the history of previous occurrences of a meeting to a technical notion that can conveniently be treated on a large scale. Nothing particularly post-modern, here. But possibly the source of a conflict, which it would indeed be interesting to explore, between the industrial reality of organisations, on one side, and on the other the expectations of a profession which legitimately sees it foundational myths in the League of Nations pioneers and their intellectual craftsmanship. To conclude this conversation at large with the author of Chapter 2, it can be argued that roughly since the 1990s, research on interpreting, especially on non-conference modes, has taken a post-modern turn; i.e. it has moved away from essentialist notions of stable meaning and equivalence—following a shift that already occurred in translation studies. Similarly, at least judging from my own experience and contrary to what has been suggested by Bahadir in this volume, institutions providing conference interpreter training are now more open to insights from other settings—i.e. those in which the interpreter is more directly exposed to issues of status, power and ideology that challenge notions of stable meaning and equivalence. But once we start looking at the prevailing lay discourse on conference interpreting,

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and at the self-representations by some of the practitioners as surveyed, for example, by Zwischenberger in her chapter, one can easily agree with Gile’s observation, in this volume, that the conduit model is “still widely accepted within the profession as the default standard”.2 Indeed, the organisations depending on interpreters to conduct their core proceedings have to rely on an essentialist view of meaning and its relatively straightforward transferability—as is the case for written translation in legal settings. Consider, anecdotally, how the impact of relay interpreting on accuracy is downplayed in the discourse of large interpreting services; or how even seasoned users of interpreting in EU settings routinely rely on their supposed verbatim notes from meetings, without questioning the interpreter’s output they are based on. The fact that a few years ago it was suggested—although then not followed up—that the transcript of simultaneous interpretations could be used as a record of European Parliament proceedings is another example of this reliance, in that it assumed that the volatile oral output of the interpreter could easily fulfil an entirely different function when fixed in writing. In sum, rather than a post-modern profession, it seems to me that conference interpreting as an activity, and even more so the interpreter, as a subject, is indeed fully immersed in the instability and subjectivity of meaning which is acknowledged in post-modern approaches; yet, as an organised profession, it thrives precisely on the promise to achieve the transfer of stable meanings—i.e. some degree of equivalence.

4.

Own Standards or a Tale of Isolation?

The aforementioned point is also illustrated by Zwischenberger’s survey of professional associations. Some of her respondents articulate a conduit norm: “The audience and speakers have communicated without really noticing that their communication was ensured by simultaneous interpretation” or “the speakers forget about my presence”. Nevertheless, these results are slightly puzzling for someone who was hoping to trace the ‘transmission chain’ of norms, from training institutions to the individual interpreter through, say, professional infrastructure, peer pressure, employers. Instead, the respondents’ job satisfaction seems to have primarily intrinsic roots. They report benchmarks such as “having worked to my standards”, “having given a good interpreting performance according to one’s own expectations and taking the circumstances into account”, “you know when you’ve got it right”. It would have been interesting to elicit, in qualitative follow-up interviews, a more explicit articulation of what these individual standards and expectations involve in translational terms—i.e. what a “good job done” means, if anything to confirm whether the conduit norm is prevalent or is simply a routine, fallback statement. Nevertheless, and with all methodological caveats correctly identified by Gile on Zwischenberger’s otherwise

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ambitious study, I read these results more as indicative of a profession whose practitioners are increasingly insulated from the direct beneficiaries of their performance, be they the speaker or the listeners. This obviously has its remote roots in the prevalence of the simultaneous mode, but it would be interesting to elicit data on the impact of two other sets of factors. Simplifying to the extreme, as regards the private market in the surveyed countries, it could be the case that both the number of assignments and the regularity with which an interpreter is contracted by the same customer or for the same event have declined in recent years due to the economic downturn, increased competition, the spread of last-minute, lowest-bid recruitment. Conversely, in international organisations, rather than scarcity, it may well be the scale of such organisations which brings about the interpreter’s isolation. In the EU institutions, the search for efficiency leads management to maximise the number of assignments of permanent interpreters, ‘filling gaps’ in the overall schedule rather than aiming at consistently assigning a given interpreter to a given meeting. Logistics too may hamper the contact with meeting participants, since with the increase in the number of official languages, larger venues have been designed, with separate accesses to booths and the actual meeting area. Remote interpreting, with simultaneous provided from a different room often located floors apart from the meeting, is routinely used for some high-level meetings. In this context, opportunities for spontaneous customer feedback are scarce, and it is not surprising that interpreters would report a largely self-imposed standard of performance. This is consistent with the finding that respondents more often working in consecutive report a higher rate of perceived professional importance. It would be interesting to check whether this correlates with closer contacts with other participants and therefore more frequent or more direct feedback. A final insight from practice may help refine another of Zwischenberger’s findings—i.e. the fact that respondents assign relatively low importance to the norm-setting role of the speaker, as opposed to listeners. This may relate to a different perception of the interpreter’s connection with the two, possibly even a different perception of ‘loyalty’ towards one or the other, and it would be interesting to replicate the analysis differentiating by the prevailing directionality of the interpreter’s work and the status of the languages involved. In the EU context, the default situation until a few years ago was that interpreters would work into the A language. This meant working for listeners who would share a mother tongue, a culture and often a nationality with the interpreter, unlike the speaker. Anecdotally, I certainly recall many exchanges with colleagues where we would report our impressions on, and derive some gratification from, having interpreted a speech by this or that foreign eminent personality; but I also clearly recall prioritising serving our listeners, rather than the speaker, for example, when translational choices had to be made between accuracy and adequacy. It would be interesting to see whether interpreters of Slavic and Baltic mother tongues, who were

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involved in the massive recourse to retour interpreting after the EU enlargements in 2004–2007, have a different perception of the importance of the speaker/listeners in setting the benchmarks for their performance. The same analysis could be applied to a group of interpreters working into an increasingly vehicular language such as English, for whom we can hardly assume any strong cultural or indeed national commonality with the majority of their listeners.

Notes 1. In Toury’s classic conceptualisation (1995), ‘initial’ norm refers to a basic orientation towards one or the other notion of translational equivalence, whereas ‘operational’ norms guide specific textual realisations. 2. On a side note, though, I would not agree that the conduit model is also “a useful ideal”, precisely when dealing with political speeches. Instead, like other culturally dense text types, political speeches require, in my view, a decidedly documentary translational approach and therefore a more visible interpreter. But this is a different discussion.

References Augé, Marc (1995) Non-Lieux. New York: Verso. Bauman, Zygmunt (2003) Liquid Modernity: On the Frailty of Human Bonds. Hoboken, NY: John Wiley & Sons. Marzocchi, Carlo (2005) On norms and ethics in the discourse on interpreting. The Interpreters’ Newsletter 13: 87–107. Monacelli, Claudia (2015) Epistemology. In F. Pöchhacker (ed.) Routledge Encyclopaedia of Interpreting Studies, 142–143. Roncalli, Samantha (2001) L’interpretazione in tribunale in una provincia bilingue: il caso di Bolzano. Unpublished thesis, Trieste, SSLMIT. Toury, Gideon (1995) Descriptive Translation Studies and Beyond. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Zwischenberger, Cornelia (2015) Simultaneous conference interpreting and a supernorm that governs it all. Meta 60(1): 90–111.

11 Interpreter Role, Ethics and Norms Linking to Professionalization Helle V. Dam

1.

Introduction

The present volume contains a broad selection of articles variously dedicated to analyses and discussions of interpreter role, ethics, norms and quality standards in different contexts and from various vantage points. The book’s broad coverage reflects the different backgrounds of its authors and bears testimony to the heterogeneity of the overall object of study, interpreting, practiced and studied as it is in a wide variety of settings ranging from informal dialogues in everyday work contexts over patient-doctor interviews and courtroom proceedings to international conferences. Against this backdrop, and assuming that the book’s nine chapters, taken together, reflect our state-of-the-art knowledge and understanding of the topics of interpreter role, ethics, norms and quality across the various sub-fields of interpreting, this discussion chapter sets out to identify and discuss salient themes in the material laid out by the authors. A review of the nine articles soon showed that a recurrent theme across chapters and predefined topics was ‘the professional’—the concepts of profession, professionalization, professionalism and professionals were everywhere to be found. This chapter will therefore address the topics of role, ethics and norms through a professional lens, zooming in on those aspects that reflect or bear on the processes of professionalization currently operating in the field of interpreting. The first three sections that follow deal with aspects related to the definition and perception of the interpreter’s role and tasks: (2) the conduit model, (3) the ethical principle of impartiality/neutrality and competing stances, and (4) role and task-defining authority. Section 5 addresses the issue of ‘the professional’ directly and looks at profession-related discourses reflected in the volume. Sections 2–5 describe and analyze, sometimes critically, the nine chapters in the book, whereas section 6 discusses what is laid out in sections 2–5 from the perspective of the sociology of professions and professionalization. The chapter ends with a short concluding statement in section 7, where I also establish a link between the issues discussed in the previous sections and quality.

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The Conduit Role: Dead and Buried?

In the nine chapters analyzed, the proverbial conduit model of interpreting (Roy 2002) is mentioned several times but rarely thematized, and no author endorses a view of the interpreter as a mechanic device that passively transmits utterances from one language into another. Both Gentile (Chapter 2) and Miner (Chapter 4) briefly mention the conduit metaphor but only in connection with past practices and former codes of ethics. Turner and Best (Chapter 5) associate the conduit concept with the practice, or stance, they reject as unethical and ineffective—i.e. what they refer to as defensive interpreting as unfolded next. As they posit, “Since interpreting is a human decision-making process which deals, at all times, in contingencies, there simply cannot be such a thing as an ‘automatic’ response”. Bahadir (Chapter 6) follows suit: “Today it seems no revolutionary act anymore to speak of a self-conscious, self-reflexive, responsible, active and participating interpreter as a third party to a communication situation. In interpreting studies [. . .] we seem to have overcome the period when the best interpreter was the most invisible and erasable interpreter.” The chapters by both Bahadir and Turner and Best are concerned with interpreting in community and dialogic settings, the former with spoken and the latter with signed language interpreting, so their adoption of notions about co-construction and triadic models of interpreting comes as no surprise. Schäffner, who has contributed one of the chapters about conference interpreting (Chapter 7)—the cradle of the conduit model—joins the chorus, however. In her study, she finds evidence in support of two presumably prevailing norms in conference interpreting: fluency and the primacy of meaning over form. At the same time, her analyses reveal an attempt to remain close to the wording of the source text. These findings, she argues in commenting on Zwischenberger’s (2015) proposal to confer the conduit model the status of a supernorm in conference interpreting, “do not lend support to the image of interpreters as conduits but rather reflect their [self-]awareness and self-monitoring.” The fact that the authors in this volume agree to refrain from thematizing or downright dismiss the conduit model as invalid in the context of interpreting studies is in line with current scholarly thinking (e.g. Wadensjö 1998; Roy 2000; Angelelli 2004; Rudvin 2015). In adherence to the prevailing constructivist view of (all) communication, most present-day interpreting scholars posit that meaning is not a stable entity but is co-created between the parties to an interaction, the interpreter included—a view that foregrounds the agency of interpreters and their effect upon communication dynamics. Moreover, discourse-based research of interpreted interactions (e.g. Wadensjö 1998) has consistently shown that interpreters do more than interpret in the narrow sense of relaying primary parties’ messages; they also coordinate and manage the interaction as evidenced by clarification moves and turn-taking signals. The fact that interpreters have come to be seen as much more than simple transmitters of others’ utterances by interpreting

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scholars, however, does not necessarily mean that the conduit model is no longer alive and well among practitioners, users and trainers, as also suggested by some of the contributors to the present volume (e.g. Bahadir and Turner & Best) and evidenced in the chapter by Ben-Ari (Chapter 1), who zooms in on interpreters’ reactions to how their profession is depicted in fiction. We shall return to these role perceptions and their implications for professionalization in section 6.

3.

Neutrality/Impartiality and Beyond

In the literature, the conduit model of interpreting is often associated, even equated, with the principle of neutrality/impartiality as enshrined in nearly all codes of ethics and standards of professional practice around the world (Bancroft 2005). Both constructs are evidently related to interpreter role but should be distinguished. The fact that interpreters have been granted a role as participants and co-constructors of meaning in interpreted events and thus have ceased to be seen as simple converters of others’ utterances should not be taken to mean that they cannot take a—deliberate and active—stance of neutrality and impartiality towards the interlocutors (cf. Hale 2008; Swabey and Mickelson 2008). Whether they indeed should and do take a neutral stance is a different question, which continues to be subject to controversy in the interpreting literature, where roles spanning from impartial message relayer to advocate for one of the primary parties are outlined (for an overview of discussions and role typologies, see the volume edited by Valero-Garcés and Martin 2008). The present book reflects conflicting stances on interpreter neutrality, too. Bahadir, for one, exhibits an almost schizophrenic attitude towards the principle of neutrality/impartiality in her extraordinarily engaged account, which—among other topics—is concerned with the ethical dilemmas community interpreters are bound to be confronted with in real-life situations. These interpreters oftentimes work in highly sensitive, high-stake and frictional contexts in which power relations between interlocutors are asymmetric and one of the parties may be “discriminated, injured, tortured, violated, fragile and precarious”. In such situations, the scene is set for clashes between personal morality and professional ethics. Bahadir refers to the demands for neutrality established by professional ethics as “reductionist ideals”, “unfulfillable and discomforting”, short of being a “strait jacket”. At the same time, however, she admits that the principle of neutrality is justified because the alternative stance, which for Bahadir would imply acting as a helper and advocate for the vulnerable client, would introduce a different kind of bias and, hence, ethical dilemma in the triadic constellations that characterize community interpreting. A code of ethics, the principle of neutrality included, she adds, is also a prerequisite for interpreters to receive acknowledgement as professionals. These are, in my view, valid points and I shall return to them in section 6.

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To me, the most challenging chapter on the topic of interpreter neutrality and impartiality is the one contributed by Miner. She reports and discusses an interview study with so-called designated interpreters—i.e. signed language interpreters who work with Deaf professionals on a regular basis; two Deaf professionals were also interviewed. Three main themes emerged from the analyses. The first was the interpreters’ role in ‘facilitating and maintaining relationships’ in the workplace, both between the Deaf professional and their hearing colleagues and between the latter group and the interpreter herself so as not to be “seen as detrimental to the professional image” of her client. The second theme concerned ‘creating seamlessness’: the fact that designated interpreters work with the same people and in the same place over a prolonged period of time equips them with knowledge and understanding of the workplace which helps them to perform efficiently and, not least, making things easier for their clients. A third theme was about ‘meeting unorthodox expectations’, and this is no exaggeration. The designated interpreters in the study were expected to sacrifice personal time when needed, and to keep their clients informed about things they overheard or conversations they themselves had with others. To Miner, this set-up is “encouraging as we move toward a more responsible and effective role for interpreters”. She also sees this role as empowering for interpreters. To me, the issue is far less clear-cut. These interpreters clearly develop an understanding of the workplace and the people they work for which helps them perform more effectively as interpreters. But their “deep [. . .] commitment to the goals of the Deaf individuals”, a laudable enterprise per se, endows them with a unidirectional advocacy role—far from the codified principles of neutrality and impartiality—and makes them vulnerable as professionals and human beings. Their commitment (if this is indeed what it is, cf. the following) has them set aside their professional ethics—and their own needs. For example, one interpreter reports being on call 24 hours a day, seven days a week, and another comments that the expectation for her was to be “paid for 20 hours a week, but be . . . available for 40”. Their clients and employers are clearly demanding, and several examples in the data show that the interpreters are under pressure to act against their codes of ethical conduct. For example, one Deaf professional comments: She [his designated interpreter] listens for me, too. She hears things, incidental things she picks up, she passes on. It’s not interpreting, but it’s valuable [. . .] She knows that she cannot let me find out the hard way about something she knows that I should know about. It would affect our relationship. We wouldn’t be able to work together. This Deaf professional is aware that in demanding to be kept informed he expects his interpreter to move outside her sphere of duty (“it’s not interpreting”); he is probably also conscious of his position of power (cf. the

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latent threat: “we wouldn’t be able to work together”). It is not clear if he is actually aware that he demands his interpreter to breach her professional code of conduct, but the interpreter respondents in the study are very clear, and worried, about the ethical dilemmas such unorthodox demands from their employers put them in (cf. section 5.2 in Chapter 4). The chapters discussed earlier foreground cases in which the interpreter is inclined to act as advocate and helper for the less privileged client, although the presumably less powerful party in Miner’s analyses, the Deaf professional, in fact stands out as very powerful. The chapter by Monacelli and Boyd (Chapter 9), discussed next, singles out a case where the interpreter is expected to abandon the principle of impartiality in favor of the more powerful party, the service provider. It is not only a question of clashes between personal morality and professional ethics, it seems, but also about where the power to set the standards lies, as discussed in the following section.

4.

Who Sets the Standards?

In the cases reported by Miner, commissioners or employers—in casu Deaf professionals—are in charge of setting the standards for interpreting. As we saw, their standard-setting capacity endows this party with the power to define the nature of the services of the interpreter, including to decide that she must comply with “unorthodox expectations”, which in many cases go (way) beyond the duties of interpreters as enshrined in codes of ethics and professional practice. In addition to the examples discussed earlier, an instance of code violation surfaces in an account by one of the interpreters in Miner’s study, who reports having been asked to attend meetings, not to interpret for his principal since other interpreters would be assigned for that, but to report on everything else that happened, including on inaccuracies in the interpretation—a clear breach of the ethical principle of collegiality. Judging from this and other chapters in the present volume, standardsetting by external stakeholders is the order of the day in interpreting. The case of civil mediation with interpreters analyzed by Monacelli and Boyd, for example, shows how the service provider, in this case, the mediator, opens the session with an explanation of the special behavior expected of interpreters who work in mediation contexts (such as informing the mediator about insults and disrespectful forms of address likely to cause conflict escalation, so as to enable the mediator to act as gatekeeper). The study thus shows how mediators literally encode professional practice for interpreters, on-site, setting aside general codes of conduct in the field. Oftentimes, standards for interpreter behavior are established through written codes but, whether put in place orally or in writing, the authority to set them tends to rest with the service provider or the institution she represents (cf. Kalina 2015), as shown in the study by Monacelli and Boyd and pointed out by Bahadir in the present volume.

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An important exception from this rule is to be found in the field of conference interpreting, in which interpreters’ professional association, AIIC, has been powerful enough to retain standard-setting authority. The two articles on conference interpreting in the present volume (Chapter 7 by Schäffner and Chapter 8 by Dal Fovo), however, show that even conference interpreters seem to be guided by the expectations of others: in the highly visible interpreting events analyzed (television shows and press conferences, respectively), audience expectations emerged as a powerful factor in shaping interpreters’ performance. Zwischenberger’s survey (Chapter 3), on the other hand, showed that conference interpreters’ main reason for both satisfaction and dissatisfaction with their job was the fulfillment or non-fulfillment of their own standards; other sources, including feedback from users, were considered less important as evidenced by the respondents’ open comments. This result points to a highly self-contained group of professionals who is able to and happy with setting its own standards for professional behavior. It does, however, appear to be an exception and, I suggest, it is not necessarily in the best interest of the profession(als), as will be discussed in section 6.

5.

Profession Versus Vocation

Profession, professionalism, professionalization and professionals are recurrent themes in this book. All authors are concerned with ‘the professional’ in one way or another, if only by positing that the respondents, subjects, participants, persons they study or write about are ‘professionals’. Bahadir’s position is split but even her project is to disentangle the authentic professional, if only in the shape of a “natural professional”, from presumably prevailing essentialist views. As many as five of the nine chapters carry the word ‘professional’ in the title though not all authors pursue the issue further. Gentile, however explicitly sets out to discuss professionalization processes (Chapter 2). In her analysis of interpreting as a postmodern profession, she discusses how the image of conference interpreters as ‘born geniuses’ and ‘marvels’ has shifted to ‘trained professionals’ as a consequence of the relatively steady process of professionalization this sub-field of interpreting has undergone over the past six to seven decades (cf. Dam and Zethsen 2013; Dam 2015). Gentile further suggests that the depiction of early conference interpreters as geniuses with special, innate, talents has hampered professionalization in the field. She does not develop her argument, but I suggest that research conducted by Sela-Sheffy (2010, 2016) could prove illuminating. In a large-scale study on suspended professionalization among translators and interpreters in Israel, initiated with the late Miriam Shlesinger, Sela-Sheffy has identified two competing types of discourse: a vocational discourse, on the one hand, and a professional(izing) discourse, on the other. The discourse of vocation foregrounds hostility towards practical and economic considerations, personal excellence, inborn exceptional gift and undefinable obscure competence (which cannot be acquired by training)

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and a higher value code manifested as perfection, integrity, devotion and self-sacrifice; by contrast, professional(izing) discourse embraces work as a means of earning a living, formal competences acquired through training and a series of other formal and objective parameters (cf. Dam and Zethsen 2016). As could be expected, Sela-Sheffy found that the vocational (and anti-professionalizing) discourse was promoted by a small but powerful group of elite translators. More surprisingly, the large group of non-elite translators tended to embrace the prevailing vocational rhetoric rather than promote a professionalizing discourse, and measures to that effect, despite their obvious interest in such an enterprise. Concurrently, with the dominance of the discourse of vocation, then, professionalization processes were seen to be hampered. Applied to Gentile’s argument, the depiction of conference interpreters as born geniuses reflects vocational discourse by foregrounding “personal excellence, inborn exceptional gift and undefinable obscure competence” as opposed to professional(izing) discourse which stresses “formal competences acquired through training”. In other words, the discursive forces identified among Israeli translators seem to have been in play in the field of international conference interpreting, too. More interestingly, some of the contributions to the present volume present traits of both types of discourse. Chapter 5 by Turner and Best is a case in point. This chapter posits two types of so-called professional stance. One is defensive interpreting, which is described as a “‘me-first’ type of professionalism”, implying that the interpreter makes decisions according to what she deems will be most in her own favor, for the sake of self-preservation; a consequence of such practices, the authors argue, may be that the interpreter fails to serve her clients’ best interests, which should be her primary goal. The alternative option, which the authors forcefully recommend, is expository interpreting. This stance is not described in great detail, but key words given are “self-revealing, on display, open to critique and, above all, open to collaboration with interlocutors”, and the main guiding principles are “transparency and cooperation, grounded in the selfless de-prioritization of the interpreter’s immediate interests”. Another key theme in Turner and Best’s proposition is intent. If a decision is motivated by self-preservation and risk-avoidance rather than an intent to serve the clients’ best interests, it amounts to defensive interpreting and should be avoided—Kant’s deontological ethics are immediately discernible here. Turner and Best’s scheme involves some scenarios that would not be immediately appealing to all interpreters. An expository stance, for example, dictates that interpreters should not reject assignments they are not comfortable with as this would amount to self-preservation and, hence, defensive interpreting. As is evident, Turner and Best are highly concerned with issues of morality. They state it directly: “[Interpreters] have a moral obligation to make a conscious effort to guard against self-serving defensive practices”. This and similar statements can be seen to reflect a “higher value code manifested as [. . .] devotion and self-sacrifice” and thus fall short of being

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vocational discourse in Sela-Sheffy’s sense. The authors are also very clear about their position as regards economic considerations: they view interpreting “as a social or communal ‘good’: a very different proposition than the delivery of interpreting as a bloodless commercial transaction or a crude income-generating proposition.” To these authors, we understand, embracing work as a means of earning a living is not an option. Despite the vocational traits in their discourse, Turner and Best set out to contribute a definition of professionalism and the professional. According to them, “what defines the professional is her adoption of a selfless ethical code in return, in effect, for considerations of status and reward”. Miner’s text, discussed in detail in section 3, exhibits similar vocational features. The designated interpreters emerge from the analyses as bound by a higher value code (rather than their code of professional conduct) which demands devotion and self-sacrifice in benefit of their client/employer. It is, however, clear from Miner’s data that the interpreters themselves embrace work (also) as a means of earning a living and are concerned with worldly considerations such as money and job security (cf. “I’ve always followed what my boss said, because they pay me, and I want to keep my job”, as one interpreter says in Miner’s study). In fact, two voices, or discourses, can be discerned in Miner’s text: that of the interpreters, with traits of vocational but certainly also professionalizing discourse, and Miner’s own voice, which leans more towards a discourse of vocation. I shall not pursue this analysis further but will conclude this section with a note on the common denominator of the chapters by Miner and Turner and Best: both are concerned with signed language interpreters. While these interpreters are generally considered to be highly professionalized, they are also likely to be influenced by the history and culture of their particular (sub-) profession and the community they serve. As explained by Boéri (2015: 36–37), since the U.S. Registry of Interpreters for the Deaf (RID) established its first code of ethics in 1965, depicting interpreting more as an act of civic engagement than a profession, signed language interpreters’ role has shifted from a volunteer advocate of the Deaf community to an impartial, remunerated professional. It is, however, not unlikely that some of the early traits in RID’s code of ethics, rooted in the United States but with influence beyond, should feature in current-day professional practice and ideology. The moral values expressed in the texts by Miner and Turner and Best are laudable, but for professionalization purposes, they are likely to be counterproductive.

6.

Issues of Professionalization: A Discussion

As described earlier, ‘the professional’ is a salient stance of all authors in this book; they all set out to study, if not identify, the professional interpreter. In this section, I shall review the topics brought to the fore in previous sections from the perspective of the sociology of professions and professionalization.

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The sociology of professions is not in complete agreement about what constitutes a profession as opposed to a mere occupation, but a proposal by Weiss-Gal and Welbourne (2008) to combine the dominant approaches in the field has gained reasonable acceptance (cf. Dam and Zethsen 2011). Their proposal lists the following eight criteria as indicative of a profession: (1) public recognition of professional status, (2) professional monopoly over specific types of work, (3) professional autonomy of action, (4) possession of a distinctive knowledge base, (5) professional education regulated by members of the profession, (6) an effective professional organization, (7) codified ethical standards and (8) prestige and remuneration reflecting professional standing. Not all of them can be examined in the context of this chapter but especially two have been approached from various angles in the contributions to the present book: professional autonomy of action, and codified ethical standards. Next, I will take a look at these two criteria and their application to interpreting. A key aspect of professional autonomy is the right of workers to define the nature of their services and make work-related decisions on the basis of their professional knowledge and values, without being subject to the directives of those outside the profession (Weiss-Gal and Welbourne 2008: 284, cf. Johnson 1972). Operating against professional autonomy in the field of interpreting is the fact that external stakeholders—users, commissioners, employers—tend to set the standards for interpreters’ work and to uphold task-defining authority, as we saw in section 4. External standard-setting and task definition signals a low degree of professional power and, in fact, professionalization. Any well-established profession has a code of ethics, often complemented with a code of professional conduct, that is shared by its members. The nature and scope of such a code varies but the ideal is for it to be “single, formal [and] nationwide” (Weiss-Gal and Welbourne 2008: 287). It should also be enforceable—i.e. sanction-based, and embedded in practice. Most importantly, it should be put in place by the members of the profession themselves rather than outside entities, so as to ensure uniform practice, a coherent professional image and, not least, a shared professional identity. In most areas of interpreting, this is not the case.1 As discussed earlier, standards of interpreting practice, codes of ethics included, are generally established by outsiders—a situation that inevitably leads to lack of uniformity and relegates interpreters to the role conferred on them by others. The disparity of standards in the field of interpreting arguably reflects or leads to a state of fragmentation and an ill-defined collective identity among professionals, as discussed by Gentile in this volume and evidenced by the violation of the ethical principle of collegiality illustrated section 4 of this chapter. It is a premise of the present volume that interpreting norms and standards are context-dependent, most clearly expressed (at the time of writing this chapter) in the introduction to Chapter 9, authored by two of the

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editors. It is suggested, for example, that conference interpreters abide by one particular set of norms, while legal interpreters adhere to a different set. For descriptive and analytical purposes, this is a well-founded position: it has become a truism to say that interpreting is a contextualized activity and should be studied as such. From a prescriptive position, as a push towards professional status inevitably amounts to, however, a scenario of fluctuating norms is detrimental. Adoption of a uniform set of norms and standards (as reflected in codes of ethics) that applies across areas of practice is a prerequisite for any occupational group to claim professional status. By contrast, the scenario that surfaces in the chapter by Zwischenberger—that each individual (conference) interpreter sets her own standards for professional behavior—is not tenable. Ad hoc decision making based on personal preferences and possibly even intuition is a pre-professional proposition. Robust, undisputed codes, by contrast, are a pathway to professionalization: they help professionals navigate real-life complexities and make them less vulnerable to external pressure. A shared code of ethics set by the members of the profession themselves presupposes consensus among practitioners (Tseng 1992). As we saw in sections 2 and 3, there is some—but not full—consensus among interpreting scholars about interpreters’ role and function. The authors of all nine chapters in this book are in agreement about the fundamental aspect of the role of the interpreter: the conduit model is dismissed as invalid and has been replaced by a more realistic, and empowering, perception of interpreters as co-constructers and relayers of meaning and, in dialogic settings, coordinators of interaction. There are still quibbles, but the essentials are in place. This conception of the interpreter’s role has not necessarily spread to interpreting practice and training, but it is my contention that with agreement among scholars, who are often trainers and sometimes members of policy committees within their field of expertise, too, it will spread eventually. However, when it comes to the also very basic question of interpreter neutrality and impartiality and competing stances, with implications even down to baseline task definition, consensus is replaced by controversy and doubt, as evidenced by the literature and reflected in this book. On the whole, then, the articles reviewed in this chapter bear testimony to a low level of professional power of decision (autonomy), fragmented ethical standards set by outsiders but a beginning consensus about the role of the interpreter which holds the potential for the foundation of a robust professional community with a shared identity and a coherent image. Professionalization, in other words, has begun in the field of interpreting at large but has not been achieved yet, though in some areas more fully than in others. The book’s authors share a devotion to the professional project as shown by their reflected or tacit stance on ‘the professional’, that I have discussed in section 5. Commitment to service has not been discussed in this chapter but is a trait that has also been suggested to characterize a professional (Weiss-Gal and Welbourne 2008: 282). However, the morality

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and value claims put forward by Turner and Best, and to a lesser extent by Miner, triumph professionals’ baseline commitment to service and lead these authors to ignore (Miner) or reject (Turner and Best) worldly considerations of working conditions and pay, which are very much part of any professional project. As we saw in section 5, such vocational stances and the discourses they generate and reflect hold the potential to impede professionalization processes.

7.

Concluding Remarks

In this chapter, I have discussed those aspects of role, ethics and norms identified in the nine chapters of this book with direct bearings on the professionalization processes currently operating in the field of interpreting. I have found a low level of professional autonomy, with external standard-setting and task definition as the order of the day, fragmented ethical standards but also an emergent scholarly consensus about the essence of interpreters’ role, which may lead to a set of widely accepted ethical principles, established by the profession itself, in the foreseeable future. This chapter has also looked at the discursive forces in the field of interpreting as reflected in this book and has found strong elements of professional discourse with potential for promoting professionalization but also components of vocational discourse with a potentially counterproductive effect. Professionalization, I suggest, holds a promise of empowerment for interpreters and, in fact, of quality. I agree with Hale (2008) and Rudvin (2015) that interpreters need a strong, unified professional identity that imposes its own role on those who require their services, rather than be relegated to the role conferred on them by each individual client in each individual encounter. I also suggest that professionalization—and its ensuing training opportunities, leverage through a strong professional association, occupational prestige, economic compensation for resources invested, etc.—enables practitioners to increase motivation and job satisfaction and, not least, perform well and effectively.

Note 1. There are important exceptions, such as AIIC’s Code of professional ethics and Professional standards, and the Australian Institute of Interpreters and Translators, AUSIT’s Code of Ethics and Code of Practice. Especially AUSIT’s single code is unique in that it applies to translators and interpreters, in all work contexts.

References Angelelli, Claudia V. (2004) Revisiting the Interpreter’s Role. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Bancroft, Marjory (2005) The Interpreter’s World Tour: An Environmental Scan of Standards of Practice for Interpreters. Menlo Park, CA: The California Endowment.

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Boéri, Julie (2015) Key internal players in the development of the interpreting profession. In H. Mikkelson and R. Jourdenais (eds.) The Routledge Handbook of Interpreting. London: Routledge, 29–44. Dam, Helle V. (2015) Status. In F. Pöchhacker (ed.) Routledge Encyclopedia of Interpreting Studies. London: Routledge, 400–402. Dam, Helle V. and Zethsen, Karen Korning (2011) The status of professional business translators on the Danish market: A comparative study of company, agency and freelance translators. Meta 56(4): 976–997. Dam, Helle V. and Zethsen, Karen Korning (2013) Conference interpreters—The stars of the translation profession? A study of the occupational status of Danish EU interpreters as compared to Danish EU translators. Interpreting 15(2): 228–258. Dam, Helle V. and Zethsen, Karen Korning (2016) “I think it is a wonderful job”. On the solidity of the translation profession. The Translation Profession: Centers and Peripheries, Special issue of Journal of Specialized Translation 25: 174–187. Hale, Sandra (2008) Controversies over the role of the court interpreter. In C. ValeroGarcés and A. Martin (eds.) Crossing Borders in Community Interpreting: Definitions and Dilemmas. Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 99–121. Johnson, Terence J. (1972) Professions and Power. London: Macmillan. Kalina, Silvia (2015) Ethical challenges in different interpreting settings. MonTI Special Issue 2: 63–86. Roy, Cynthia (2000) Interpreting as a Discourse Process. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Roy, Cynthia (2002) The problem with definitions, descriptions, and the role metaphor of interpreters. In F. Pöchhacker and M. Shlesinger (eds.) The Interpreting Studies Reader. New York: Routledge, 345–353. Rudvin, Mette (2015) Interpreting and professional identity. In H. Mikkelson and R. Jourdenais (eds.) The Routledge Handbook of Interpreting. London: Routledge, 432–446. Sela-Sheffy, Rakefet (2010) “Stars” or “Professionals”: The imagined vocation and exclusive knowledge of translators in Israel. MonTI 2: 131–152. Sela-Sheffy, Rakefet (2016) Elite and non-elite translator manpower: The nonprofessionalised culture in the translation field in Israel. The Translation Profession: Centers and Peripheries, Special issue of Journal of Specialized Translation 25: 54–73. Swabey, Laurie and Mickelson, Paula Gajewski (2008) Role definition: A perspective on forty years of professionalism in sign language interpreting. In C. ValeroGarcés and A. Martin (eds.) Crossing Borders in Community Interpreting: Definitions and Dilemmas. Philadelphia: John Benjamins, 51–80. Tseng, Joseph (1992) Interpreting as an Emerging Profession in Taiwan—A Sociological Model. MA thesis, Fu Jen Catholic University. Valero-Garcés, Carmen and Martin, Anne (eds.) (2008) Crossing Borders in Community Interpreting: Definitions and Dilemmas. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Wadensjö, Cecilia (1998) Interpreting as Interaction. London: Longman. Weiss-Gal, Idit and Welbourne, Penelope (2008) The professionalisation of social work: A cross-national exploration. International Journal of Social Welfare 17: 281–290. Zwischenberger, Cornelia (2015) Simultaneous conference interpreting and a supernorm that governs it all. Meta 60(1): 90–111.

12 Norms, Ethics and Quality The Challenges of Research Daniel Gile

1.

Introduction: Convincing Academic Discourse?

According to the brief received from the editors, this chapter was intended to be a critical discussion on a collection of texts devoted to a topic to which I have not devoted much reflection or research work myself, being a conference interpreter who has only exceptionally been confronted directly with ethical dilemmas as a practitioner or as a translator and interpreter trainer. Not that ethics are not part of conference interpreting—far from that—but the fundamental principles are clear and their application is generally straightforward in most settings in which conference interpreters work. The obvious challenge arises out of my lack of intimate knowledge of the professional environment beyond these settings and my less than comprehensive familiarity with the relevant theories and literature. The obvious opportunity is discovering what more knowledgeable authors do and say. The potential contribution to readers may be awareness-raising with respect to the expectations and reactions of a researcher with a canonical science background (mathematics and then sociology as an empirical behavioral discipline) and a long experience as a conference interpreter, but little experience in settings other than conferences, seminars, media interpreting and high-level political negotiations. Researching norms, ethics, quality and their interactions is obviously unlike researching abstract mathematical entities governed by pure logic and unencumbered by interference from real life, and unlike researching physical phenomena which can be measured with relative accuracy and replicated many times under quasi-identical conditions. I, therefore, did not expect much use of experiments, nor extensive quantitative analyses. In fact, I did not have any a priori preference for any methodology. What I was looking for was convincing academic discourse from authors. “Convincing academic discourse” is no neutral formula. In the case of a researcher with my background, it reflects the belief that “science” does have features that set it apart from other ways of exploring what we perceive as reality, on the basis of the scientists’ awareness of cognitive, sensory and affective limitations and bias in their perception and processing of what they

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observe and what is reported in the literature. Without going into extensive descriptions and analyses here (but see Gile 2013 for an overview), suffice it to say that over several decades of participation and/or observation of research in several disciplinary areas in the natural and human sciences, I have come to consider that the common ground for all of them and for most ‘scientific’ approaches and research methods or techniques is the will to be as thorough as possible, as rigorous as possible, systematically sceptical and self-sceptical and cautious in one’s inferences. If these (and several other criteria, including explicitness about one’s data, methods and inferences) are not met, no matter how interesting and thought provoking an author’s statements, scientists are likely to exclude them from what they accept as ‘scientific exploration of reality’—in other words, they will not be convinced. Scientific work can be convincing—i.e. technically acceptable—without contributing new knowledge directly, as is the case of replications of previously published studies. Replications are essential in research insofar as they help test and/or consolidate existing findings and theories, but from a commercially published collective volume, I expected some innovation, be it in the form of theoretical propositions and analyses, empirical findings and/or new or improved research methods. Are the four chapters discussed in this review convincing? Do they innovate? The challenges that became most salient to me while reading them are explained in the following pages with examples.

2.

A Contribution Through Interview-Based Research

Despite recent debates about it, which are reflected in some chapters in this volume, in most specialized conference interpreter-training programs, the interpreter’s role is presented typically as striving to be as transparent as possible. This does not mean that the interpreter is transparent. Not only is some linguistic and information manipulation of the speech necessary to optimize the transmission of information with the aim of serving the speaker’s interest—one ethical principle of interpreting as it is taught—but cognitive limitations and other environmental and personal factors can cause non-compliance with this norm (see the discussion of some factors in Gile 2009 and of others in Monacelli 2009). And yet, under many circumstances which arise in conference settings, in press conferences, in technical and commercial seminars, in political speeches to list just a few examples, arguably, the neutral conduit model is a useful ideal, still widely accepted within the profession as the default standard (see Setton and Dawrant 2016). Not so in public service interpreting—be it between spoken languages or between signed and spoken language. Large differences in status and power between the parties and high personal stakes of individual communication events make ethical issues much more salient, with implications on the interpreter’s role—as forcefully discussed in Bahadir’s chapter. Most

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of the empirical investigations and reflection on the interpreter’s role have been conducted within public service interpreting, not least in signed language interpreting settings. In the present collection, with a relatively simple methodology, Annette Miner makes a contribution by taking further the exploration of settings in which ‘designated interpreters’ work with and for the same Deaf professionals regularly. Interviews were conducted with designated interpreters (and with an educational interpreter and a Deaf interpreter for the sake of comparison) and Deaf professionals, their video recordings were analyzed through the lens of tentative categories defined on the basis of relevant literature, which were then refined. The data suggest that a strong expectation from interpreters is that they act as facilitators for the Deaf professionals who work in a Hearing environment, with interventionism which goes far beyond what is usually considered an interpreter’s job—to such an extent that Miner’s interviewees felt that their action might be viewed by other interpreters as professionally improper or unethical. Miner’s basic method—namely, interviews, is a classical one in ethnographic research. Her analysis of the data, with the help of initial categories established on the basis of the exploration of the literature which are then fine-tuned, is attractive to me, because it both leverages previous research and leaves space open for adaptation. In terms of strict requirements of canonical scientific research writing, she could be criticized for not being explicit enough about how she made three major themes ‘emerge’ from the data. Did all designated interpreters mention them, were these themes suggested by the interviewer, albeit indirectly, at the beginning of interviews, were they highlighted by the interviewees as particularly important, was there some kind of quantitative assessment of the frequency of words uttered that could be associated with them? However, the research objectives being exploratory and modest, this does not prevent the report from contributing to the debate about the interpreters’ role(s) by adding useful information. In particular, it highlights the fact that in some settings, interpreters, hired as such, need to deviate markedly from professional codes of conduct in order to meet expectations and that this may need to be taken on board by professional associations and authorities after more data collection and reflection.

3.

Survey Research and Quantitative Measurements

While Miner’s study is essentially qualitative, Zwischenberger’s has a strong quantitative component, as it “sets out to find out about the degree of importance professionals attach to their own social position” (emphasis added), to feedback they receive and to measure their degree of satisfaction with the position they occupy. The target populations for the survey were members of three professional associations: AIIC, the German association VKD and two Italian associations, Assointerpreti and AITI. In the original survey from which Zwischenberger took her data, one objective was to compare results from

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the organizations, presumably because demographic, cultural and other factors led her to hypothesize certain differences which she wanted to check out. However, this chapter does not focus on such differences. It does not explain why there should be any, and when differences are reported, it does not attempt to explain them in any depth. The quantitative component “significant differences” between the groups is a bit wasted on the reader in this text, as its meaning is left unclear. The questionnaire is not appended to the chapter, and the structure of the potential responses is only indirectly shown through tables presenting findings. Apparently, most of the questions called for answers on 4or 5- position Likert scales reflecting subjectively perceived intensity or importance. This is a widely used method. It turned out to be sufficiently sensitive to single out the respondents’ number one reason for satisfaction, namely fulfilling one’s own standards, and their number one reason for dissatisfaction—namely, failing to do so. This is a particularly interesting finding for two reasons. The first is that it identifies a strong personal motivation which depends on the interpreters’ own assessments of their performance, presumably against the challenge of a difficult task. This seems to indicate that a common factor in the respondents’ personality is a certain positive attitude towards challenges. It also suggests that they may devote a lot of effort not to avoid or mitigate risks, which Pym seems to believe is a major factor if not the determinant of translators’ and interpreters’ tactical and strategic behaviour (cf. Pym 2008), but to meet their own standards of successful interpreting. The quantitative results are potentially very meaningful, but no in-depth discussion is offered, no follow-up qualitative investigation is announced. One might just as well find geological signals that detect the presence of a natural resource somewhere in the soil, and then just move on without seeking to do something with it. The second reason why this finding is particularly interesting is that most respondents refer first and foremost to their own standards, as opposed to feedback from others. Again, this calls for further investigation. What could be the reason? Is it because they believe that others are not in a position to judge? Or because they consider that working conditions have deteriorated to such an extent over the years that ‘official’ criteria or criteria they have been taught to view as the norm can no longer be met and they have adopted different standards? Interviews and focus groups would be the method of choice for such follow-up investigations, not quantitative methods. One more methodological point may be worth mentioning about survey-based (and interview-based) research. It is well known that in such investigations, respondents do not necessarily tell the truth, especially as regards questions that concern their image or self-image (e.g. Tourangeau and Ting 2007). This is relevant as regards professional status and satisfaction issues. It is not clear from Zwischenberger’s chapter whether she is aware of this hurdle and has addressed it in either the design of the questionnaire or the analysis of the responses. Can the respondents’ answers to the

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questions about the importance of their work for successful communication and their social status be taken at face value, taking on board dissonance theory (Festinger 1957) and knowing that they invest considerable effort in trying to meet their own standards and that organizers, speakers and listeners tend not to give them much consideration or feedback? Would their answers have been different if they were asked how important they believe delegates consider their work for successful communication? Quantitative findings about the links between the length of membership in the respective association and satisfaction on one hand, and other people’s opinion on the other to mention just two items, are thought-provoking but only open a door without offering an insight into what is in the room. I am not sure how “social and symbolic capital” translates in more concrete terms in this particular case, but I would make a distinction between two possible sets of explanations to investigate. One is essentially social and psychological, and could also be related to initial expectations followed by adaptation to a less glamorous life, and one would be more down to earth and be associated with the objective deterioration of working conditions in the profession over the past 40 years. The method of choice for deeper scrutiny of such phenomena would be interviews and focus groups. Zwischenberger’s investigation would be far more convincing with an essentially qualitative follow-up with much smaller samples.

4.

Intra-interdisciplinarity

Schäffner’s main interests and publications lie in research into written translation. When dealing with conference interpreting, and more specifically simultaneous interpreting, she ventures into another discipline within TS, one which has its own theories and literature. One of its particularly strong traditions, initially developed by Seleskovitch (1975) and strongly maintained in many—probably the overwhelming majority of conference interpreter-training programs, is the idea that interpreting involves some sort of ‘deverbalization’. Though the origin of the idea and its theoretical status are still debated, in practice, it means that interpreters are taught to disregard formal linguistic features of the source speech when constructing their target speech and only refer to its meaning (“sense”) as they understand it (good explanations can be found in Setton and Dawrant 2016). Actually, under the high cognitive pressure of simultaneous interpreting, there is a high risk of language interference, and one way of resisting it is to deliberately avoid using structures or lexical choices too similar to those used by the speaker. In other words, the very choice of metaphors in interpreting as an object of study needed to be explained. Certain metaphors, chosen deliberately by speakers to associate an idea with a powerful or connoted image or striking because of their originality, are obviously relevant as challenges to the interpreters who need to find equally striking or eloquent images, but other metaphors, which are used frequently in the register at hand,

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would tend to be handled just like ordinary lexical items and grammatical constructions—i.e. disregarded as metaphors. So why would an investigator want to look at how metaphors are handled by simultaneous interpreters? Perhaps to see whether ‘deverbalization’ applies or not, whether the source language form does exert a ‘gravitational pull’ with respect to metaphor? Schäffner does not offer any explanation, and readers are perhaps left with the impression that she disregards or is not aware of major ideas in the field of interpreting into which she ventures. One other major idea within Conference Interpreting Research is that interpreters face high cognitive load. According to another widely accepted conceptual framework, the Effort Models and the associated Tightrope Hypothesis (see Gile 2009), this is widely believed to cause many of the errors, omissions and infelicities (EOIs) in their output. In contradiction to what Pym (2008)1 and Schäffner seem to suggest, the Effort Models are not “purely cognitive”. They are socially situated, explicitly so, in communication models which take on board the sometimes conflicting interests of various actors, in loyalty principles, in social norms and psychological constraints which govern strategic and tactical decisions (see in particular Chapters 2, 3 and 8 of Gile 2009). One of the norms of conference interpreting in the speaker-loyalty option, the most frequent one, is the idea of maximizing information transmission in line with the speaker’s intended effect, as the interpreter perceives it. What Schäffner refers to, quoting Shlesinger, as the ‘fluency’ norm, is related to this intended effect, which is maximized if there are no disfluencies in the target speech, but also if the target speech sounds natural to a native speaker of the target language, without traces of interference. Taking these normative and cognitive considerations on board, one could for example expect interpreters to endeavor to reproduce striking metaphors with similar or comparable components in their target speech, but either take different metaphors or express the idea without metaphors when they were in control, and perhaps only reproduce them when under high cognitive pressure. Schäffner proceeds without offering this background, let alone hypotheses, without the tools to orient her exploration or interpret her findings about shifts or the lack thereof in the translation of metaphors. This in particular holds for norms in the translation of metaphors. The most natural ways to find out about applicable norms would be to read the literature, especially the prescriptive didactic literature, and to conduct interviews or organize focus groups with interpreters—Schäffner herself mentions interviews at the end of her chapter. It might have been wise to start with a few. Trying to make inferences on the sole basis of regularities detected in a very small corpus is hazardous, especially in view of the aforementioned fact that the strong cognitive pressure under which interpreters work may well confound the effect of norms. If simultaneous interpreters had been asked about metaphors and how they deal with them upstream of the comparison of the source and target texts, they might have provided some explanations to that effect.

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Schäffner’s question about potential cognitive load associated with metaphors ties in with a long tradition of studying ‘problem triggers’ as defined within the conceptual framework of the Effort Models. The effect of specific problem triggers (e.g. numbers and proper names) is generally investigated through indicators such as EOIs or Ear Voice Span, and pupillometry is being experimented with. Schäffner did not choose any—in fact, she only mentions pupillometry in passing—and just “watched the video recordings of the press conferences to see whether any additional features in the interpreters’ performance could be identified which might signal higher cognitive load”. How sensitive could this method be? No wonder she found it difficult to detect such features. However, if so, how could she reach any conclusions? Isn’t there a lost opportunity in this text, due to insufficient use by the investigator of the relevant research literature in the host (sub-)discipline?

5.

A Prescriptive Reflection

Unlike the first three chapters discussed here, which are based on empirical studies, the fourth contribution, Bahadir’s “meditation” on the interpreter as an observer, a participant and an agent of change, is conceptual. Like Miner’s, it is written by an insider, an experienced community interpreter, and it has a strong prescriptive component. Among major points made, Bahadir argues that interpreters change the interaction between the principals (such as the therapist and the patient), that they are actors of social change through their interpreting action, which has ethical implications, and that during training, “interpreting enactments” (simulated interpreted encounters) should be used to explore and discuss situations and actions hands-on. As a professional conference interpreter who believes that community interpreting is socially far more important than conference interpreting and that it often requires skills, and most saliently sensitivity and interpersonal skills that conference interpreters generally do not need to deploy to the same extent, I can empathize with Bahadir’s perceived dissatisfaction at the difference of status between the two branches of interpreting. As an individual member of civil society, I am aware of the possibility that in relations between authorities and migrants and ethnic minorities, there is some or even considerable “discrimination, injustice [and] domination” and can understand that some community interpreters, often personally related to the same communities, believe it is their moral duty to do something about it. As an interpreter trainer, I believe that indeed, there is a lot to be gained in the training environment by simulating interpreted meetings with students and outsiders, a method which has been used widely in at least some conference interpreter-training programs for a long time. In other words, as a professional and as a thinking individual, I find Bahadir’s points worthy of attention. To a researcher, however, her text is more challenging. Not that factual or methodological innovation is expected from an admittedly subjective essay. Conceptually, the idea that interpreting can interfere with the interaction

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between the communicating principals is not new. An early study which provided empirical data to explore some of its practical implications in a highly visible trial in which the interpreting was done mostly by conference interpreters is Morris’s 1989 MA thesis on Ivan Demjanjuk’s trial in Israel. Perhaps the reference to sociologist Simmel in the context of IS is new. The idea of comparing the interpreter to an ethnographer, introduced by Bahadir in previous publications, is intriguing. Awareness of a potential observer’s effect in ethnography, whereby the very observation of a group can have an effect on the group, but also on the ethnographer him/herself, as well as extrapolation to community interpreting, is enriching. However, ethnographers are primarily scientific explorers of reality, whereas the essence of interpreting is very different. It is somewhat disturbing to someone used to a norm of accurate language that Bahadir does not explicitly acknowledge that the comparison only holds for these mutual effects, not for fundamental roles. Moreover, for a researcher who comes from a canonical science background, talking about potential two-way interference calls for measurements of or at least hypotheses about the order of magnitude of such an effect. Does it always occur? Does it change the ethnographer (or the interpreter) and/or the group under study (or the interaction between the principals in the mediated action) to a very small, small, large of very large extent? According to the law of universal gravitation, the moon and a pen on a desk attract each other. However, this attraction is so small that for all intents and purposes, it is negligible. Is that also the case of the action of individual interpreters on social and political situations and events, or can they really make a difference? If the latter could be demonstrated, CDA could gain much credibility. Another issue is the unqualified use of “interpreters” in Bahadir’s essay. Her ideas are probably largely applicable in community interpreting and perhaps in court interpreting, but to what extent do conference interpreters who simultaneously interpret the written statements that representatives of nation states read out in a working group or a policy debate in an auditorium, or media interpreters who simultaneously interpret President Obama’s speeches on TV, actually interact with the principals, change their communication patterns or relationships, and are changed themselves? If Bahadir believes that her ideas apply to all types of interpreting across the board, she would need to offer evidence or at least further explanations. If she thinks her ideas do not apply to all interpreting settings, why does she use “interpreter” as opposed to “community interpreter” or “court interpreter”? Is this a ‘political’ statement which claims higher status for community interpreters and the end of the domination of conference interpreters? If so, in this reviewer’s eyes, the text becomes too ideology-driven to be a convincing academic text, because it sacrifices accuracy for the sake of an ideological agenda—regardless of how respectable the ideological agenda is. A similar challenge arises when Bahadir claims that “The specialization in topic areas, the acquisition and application of techniques and methods of linguistic/cultural transfer and a routinized,

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largely predictable performance are viewed as a protective shield against the human, soft, emotional and ethical, and thus ambivalent and ambiguous aspects during interpreting”. It is not clear whether Bahadir found any text in the literature that justifies this statement. This reviewer is not aware of any. Similarly, Bahadir’s following statement is puzzling: “Even nowadays, if we look at the databases of conference interpreters members of AIIC, we will find many fascinating multilingual, multicultural personalities, mostly very well educated and from distinct families, but rarely academically trained as conference interpreters.” Is she saying that most AIIC members were not trained academically as conference interpreters? If so, this is incorrect—this reviewer has checked the facts with other colleagues from various countries. Or is she saying that among AIIC members, most of the fascinating multilingual, multicultural personalities were not trained academically as conference interpreters? If so, who are they? How did she identify them? How did she determine they were fascinating? For all these reasons, while Bahadir’s ideas and underlying philosophy are respectable per se, her text fails to comply with some fundamental norms of scientific discourse, at least in the canonical science tradition. Ironically, it may be the very strength of her convictions which makes her less careful about such norms and damages the scientific credibility of her chapter.

6.

Summary and Conclusion

Summing up impressions from these four chapters and others which were read but are not discussed here: In research into norms, ethics and quality in interpreting, exploratory, essentially qualitative research seems to still have a strong contribution potential. In the chapters discussed in this review, I found Miner’s contribution most useful to feed into the discussion of interpreting roles and of professional codes of conduct, whereas the more ambitious survey by Zwischenberger yielded quantitative data which do not seem to contribute much meaningful knowledge, except for one item which is identified, but without going into further exploration. In passing, I note with critical self-reflection that I seem to demand more and am stricter with an ambitious project (Zwischenberger’s) than with a simpler one (Miner’s). Is it a ‘psychological’ reaction to the authors’ stated or perceived ambitions, or is it because I felt there was more innovation in Miner’s findings despite potential methodological flaws than in Zwischenberger’s? A point about theory: in most chapters in this volume, theory in general and sociological theories in particular are not directly related to the empirical investigation if any as would be the case in a Popperian research model, with a theory generating hypotheses to be tested as a test for the theory. For example, Zwischenberger’s long theoretical discussion of the role concept and of associated literature does not generate any specific questions. So

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what is its role? In some cases, it indicates to the reader what is the general mindset, conceptual framework or school of thought to which the author adheres. However, in other cases, it does not seem to serve such a purpose, and its presence may well be decorative more than anything else, or intended to show compliance with an academic writing norm. To someone who was trained in a canonical science culture, this is not natural, and may generate some uneasiness. Note that somewhat similar phenomena are found in empirical research reports as well, for instance as regards bibliographical references: there is some pressure to add bibliographical references to one’s paper until a minimum number perceived as expected from a good paper is reached even when the added value of such references is nil. Do I feel that the challenges associated with the scientific investigation of the topic area “norms, ethics and quality” are specific? Addressing empirical research—not having the required background to address more conceptual research—my answer would be ‘not really’. As in other topic areas in IS and beyond, research questions are formulated, and resources and constraints make certain methods more appropriate than others to seek answers to them. In this case, qualitative exploration, in particular through ethnographic methods, seems to be most promising at this stage, though quantitative methods, inter alia corpus analysis (see Voinova and Ordan 2016) and perhaps experiments, could also be used, for example when testing hypotheses about the relative strength of norms or the disruptive effect of some situations. In all these cases, the features underlying good scholarship as they are taught traditionally in research methods courses, including systematic, careful, sceptical approaches seem to apply, perhaps with special care not to be too influenced by bias arising from one’s personal feelings about injustice, domination and other unpalatable social phenomena. In an interesting presentation of discourse analytical approaches, Mason (2015) quotes Blommaert (2005) who criticizes CDA for allowing the analyst to impose interpretations and drowning out alternative readings of texts—or situations. This is perhaps the main reservation this reviewer has about the increasing popularity of CDA within IS, though he willingly acknowledges that CDA has the potential of increasing the investigator’s sensitivity to some phenomena and trends which might remain invisible with more ‘objective’ approaches. Schäffner’s chapter ends with a quote by Shlesinger about the need for more efforts to validate the relevance of our research methods. Perhaps this could be extended with a call for more reflection about the underlying fundamental principles and how to reach maximum relevant compliance with them in each scientific culture.

Note 1. In a personal email dated December 19, 2008, Pym acknowledged that he misperceived the Effort Models as purely cognitive.

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References Blommaert, Jan (2005) Discourse: A Critical Introduction. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Festinger, Leon (1957) A Theory of Cognitive Dissonance. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Gile, Daniel (2009) Basic Concept and Models for Interpreter and Translator Training (Revised ed.). Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Gile, Daniel (2013) Scientificity and theory in translation studies. In Y. Gambier and L. Van Doorslaer (eds.) Handbook of Translation Studies (Vol. 4). Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 148–155. Mason, Ian (2015) Discouse analytical approaches. In F. Pöchhacker (ed.) Routledge Encyclopedia of Interpreting Studies. London: Routledge, 111–116. Monacelli, Claudia (2009) Self-Preservation in Simultaneous Interpreting: Surviving the Role. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Morris, Ruth (1989) The Impact of Court Interpretation on Legal Proceedings. Unpublished MA thesis, Institute of Communications, Hebrew University of Jerusalem. Pym, Anthony (2008) On omission in simultaneous interpreting: Risk analysis of a hidden effort. In G. Hansen, A. Chesterman and H. Gerzymisch-Arbogast (eds.) Efforts and Models in Interpreting and Translation Research. Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 83–105. Seleskovitch, Danica (1975) Langage, langues et mémoire. Paris: Lettres modernes Minard. Setton, Robin and Dawrant, Andrew (2016) Conference Interpreting: A Complete Course. Amsterdam: John Benjamins [Benjamins Translation Library 120]. Tourangeau, Roger and Ting, Yan (2007) Sensitive questions in surveys. Psychological Bulletin 133(5): 859–883. Voinova, Tanya and Ordan, Noam (2016) Narratives of community interpreters: What can we learn from using corpus-based methodology? In C. Bendazzoli and C. Monacelli (eds.) Addressing Methodological Challenges in Interpreting Studies Research. Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 107–139.

Afterword The Changing Role of the Interpreter Contextualising Norms, Ethics and Quality Standards: A Way Forward* Marta Biagini, Michael S. Boyd and Claudia Monacelli Anderson (2002/1976: 218–221) argues, “The interpreter’s position as the person in the middle has the advantage of power inherent in all positions that control scarce resources”. Over the past 20 years, embracing a social turn, Interpreting Studies (IS) have focused on a variety of institutional settings, especially within the so-called discourse-based interaction paradigm (Pöchhacker 2004). Whereas the participation and interaction framework of interpreter-mediated encounters within institutional contexts (e.g. legal, education, health), in both dialogue and conference interpreting (Berk-Seligson 1990; Wadensjo 1998; Angelelli 2004; Hale 2004; Monacelli 2009; Baraldi and Gavioli 2012; Biagini, Davitti and Sandrelli in press), have been investigated at a micro-analytical level, the issue of interpreters’ self-awareness of norms at work within any sociocultural context, as well as the constructs of power and ideology through which these norms are disseminated among professionals and academics, have not sufficiently surfaced as recurrent themes in IS. We see this as implying a contextualised ethics: contextualising norms and quality in relation to self-perception and practitioners’ ethical behaviour. We take this premise one step further now and examine how research may now address these constructs. Generally speaking, in interpreter-mediated bi- and multilateral meetings the question of the relation between ideology, power and hierarchy has been seen to arise in relation to status and rank, being found to create a significant power differential that conditions an interpreter’s work in many settings, e.g. in military settings (Boyd and Monacelli 2012), which would stand to reason, considering the context. Kayoko Takeda’s interesting sociolinguistic study of interpreting (2009) at the International Military Tribunal for the Far East (IMTFE 1946–1948) examines the notions of ‘trust, power and control’, the historical and political context of the IMTFE and the social and cultural backgrounds of interpreters. She applies the concept of ‘negotiated norms’ in her assessment of how interpreting procedures developed over the initial stage of the trial. Her findings link interpreters’ choices, strategies and behaviour to their awareness of where they stand in the power constellation of the interpreted

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event (2009). It is indeed this awareness that initially motivated us to bring together the present volume. One of the main goals in proposing this volume was, first and foremost, to give voice to as many different exponents in the field of IS as possible. We felt that the mixing of the professional and academic perspectives would provide a suitable overview to quality, norms and ethics in the field. In order to complete this approach we decided to include a critical section in which prominent exponents in the field were asked to discuss the main themes and perspectives that emerged from the volume. The discussants were given free rein to tackle the chapters in the volume in any way they saw fit. Thus no pre-established guidelines were provided to them in terms of the content nor the slant. They were sent final versions of the chapters and were asked to provide their own views on these contributions. While we obviously expected a number of common themes and perspectives to emerge, we were pleasantly surprised by the variety and innovation offered by the discussants. We first briefly summarise the discussants’ views and subsequently draw parallels between their comments. Subsequently, we propose a lens through which future analyses and research might approach the issues that discussants have highlighted. In Chapter 10, Carlo Marzocchi ‘revisits’ norms and highlights how “variable translatorial behaviour” needs to “be construed diachronically and across settings” in order for norms to indeed emerge. He points to the importance of mapping processes involved, but also to the need of distinguishing prescriptive guidelines received through training, and—not least—to professional behaviour in interpreter-mediated contexts. He also extends this to the wider social discourse on interpreting. Marzocchi notes that speakers (in addition to listeners) also have a norm-setting role, citing numerous cases when wide use of retour interpreting have put professionals in a position of potentially altering their perception of the importance of speakers/listeners when setting performance standards. In Chapter 11, Helle Dam focuses on the recurrent theme in the book’s first nine chapters—i.e. the professional. She, too, ‘revisits’ several constructs that have surfaced throughout the history of IS research, namely the conduit model, impartiality/neutrality and the interpreter’s remit, in the form of role and task, in defining authority. In her contribution, we indeed begin to see the emergence of constructs necessarily underlying the professional role: power and ideology. Dam concludes by singling out the “low level of professional autonomy”, where we find both standards and role/ tasks being defined externally. Another important comment is her finding of “fragmented ethical standards” but at the same time, an “emergent scholarly consensus” concerning the professional role which generally leads to an acceptance of ethical principles that the profession itself establishes. Dam pits the professional discourse that promotes professionalisation, on the one hand, against vocational discourse that she views as counterproductive, on

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the other. She feels that professionalisation may lead to empowerment and, ultimately, foster quality. Finally, in Chapter 12 Daniel Gile essentially seeks out “convincing academic discourse” in his discussion of several chapters in Parts I–III. He considers qualitative research to have “a strong contribution potential” in research into norms, ethics and quality. Gile critically notes that in most chapters, theory is “not directly related to the empirical investigation”, in the sense of “a theory generating hypotheses to be tested as a test for the theory”. He concedes, however, ethnographic methods as being most promising for this type of research, but calls for a greater degree of reflection, guarding against being “too influenced by bias”. While constructs emerging in Part IV have critically reviewed Chapters 1–9, we as editors feel all contributors to this volume have, in one way or another, hinted at the fundamental importance of power and ideology (and, of course, authority) as ‘making or breaking’ a professional’s role, the nature of their remit, how the provision of interpreting is carried out and, ultimately, who has access to interpreter-mediated contexts for research purposes. We now focus on those issues that can be closely tied to power and/or ideology in Chapters 1–9. Both Nitsa Ben-Ari and Paola Gentile (Chapters 1 and 2, respectively) depict a social context in which there seems to be some sort of fragmentation, or divided loyalties for interpreters. The very nature of the interpreting profession, in which professionals straddle two or more languages—and, thus, cultures—makes for an environment where both social spaces and relations prompt ongoing negotiation through the medium of language. If we add to this the rise of technological advancement that, to varying degrees, is redesigning both that social space and the nature of relations in interpreter-mediated encounters, we get a more complex situation. Thus, in Chapter 1, Ben-Ari examines interpreting through the fictional portrayal of both the profession and professionals. Her approach is centred on the dichotomy between the reality of the profession understood mainly by a limited ingroup that has actual experience in the field and a vast outgroup that is characterised by misunderstandings about what exactly interpreters do. Important to her analysis is the notion of divided loyalties in relation to cultural heritage: in a way we could say that the profession is disempowered through this very notion. In Chapter 2, Gentile provides an overview of the field as part of the postmodern era, a time in which bewilderment and fragmentation are rife. For her, the postmodern world is the apotheosis of the lack of coherence and unity as individuals lack orientation in a society short of social and ethical principles. As a result, the postmodern citizen becomes a sort of hybrid that is strongly influenced by mass (or new) media. This too, we would argue, can be seen as a sort of disempowerment, making it difficult—as also highlighted by Dam in Chapter 11—for individuals to develop a unified, straightforward identity. Specifically, Gentile employs the metaphor

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of the bridge, whereby interpreters potentially wield significant power in moulding one’s perception of reality. Not unlike the mass media. This power “potentially wielded within different interpreting contexts [. . .] indicate(s) an underlying ideology” (Monacelli 2009: 23). In Chapter 3, on the other hand, Zwischenberger focuses on ingroup participation and interpreters’ involvement in the professional association of conference interpreters, AIIC. This organisation, which has played—and undoubtedly still plays—a defining role in the profession in many countries, can be seen as a repository of (symbolic) power due to its role over the years in negotiating, inter alia, working conditions for interpreters in international institutions around the world, thus setting standards for professional conference interpreters. The results of Zwischenberger’s study would indeed, however, point to a shift in this power relationship: there is growing recognition of the multifaceted nature of the field and the importance of both social and sociological factors in redistributing the balance of power. The construct of power also understandably implies the notion of decision making, which is raised by Annette Miner (Chapter 4) in relation to the Deaf professional-designated interpreter relationship. In her study interpreter/ respondents indicated a certain conflict over which authority “to follow” in their decision-making process, the implication being—in any case—the decision making is left to others. Interestingly, Graham Turner and Brett Best (Chapter 5) highlight how studies have addressed the power “(im-)balance” between Deaf and hearing people. They also point to studies which have described the decision-making role of the interpreter and subsequent consequences of choices made (see, for example, Turner 2006). Power relations also form the crux of Christina Schäffner’s analysis of conceptual metaphors in interpreter-mediated press conferences for politicians (Chapter 7). It would be hard to deny that politicians wield power in their (public) discourse practices, but in her chapter, Schäffner switches the focus to interpreters and, namely, how they deal with (conceptual) metaphor. Schäffner rightly notes that interpreting should be treated as a situated activity. Such an activity, however, implies that the interpreter should have complete access to the situation as a whole (Shlesinger 2000). While interpreters working in high-level settings such as press conferences are certainly aware of a speaker’s social status and possible conflicts that might emerge, they are most likely excluded from a number of (ingroup) discourses belonging to the owners, a phenomenon that Schäffner observes undoubtedly imposes constraints on their performance. Dal Fovo (Chapter 8) also focuses on political discourse in her analysis of TV debates. In addition to the political dimension, the media also plays a crucial role in shaping discourse practices, viewers’ perception of these and, undoubtedly, the role of interpreters. Dal Fovo argues that it is primarily the “Contest-like” dimension of presidential debates that enables interpreters to maintain the original message, regardless of their tendency towards mitigation. To take such an analysis one step further, it would be interesting

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to understand whether the dominant role of the media and politics is in some way correspondent to the interpreter’s use of mitigation (cf. Monacelli 2009; Boyd 2016). In other words, does such a tendency to mitigate reflect the interpreter’s subordinate role in this process? In Monacelli and Boyd’s chapter (9) the aspects of power and ideology emerge from new interpreter-mediated settings themselves: on the one hand, there appears to be conflicting expectations of the interpreter’s role and, on the other, researchers in IS are excluded from access to authentic civil mediation encounters because of confidentiality and therefore have to rely on simulated data (Monacelli 2016). An inverted ‘double indemnity’ of sorts that seems to completely disempower both the professional and the analyst. Finally, Chapter 6 offers us a closing argument and a way forward, in terms of pursuing future research. Şebnem Bahadir talks of “triadic interaction” and the dialectics of disempowerment and empowerment in her consideration of interpreter-mediated encounters. She suggests viewing the “in-between position” of the interpreter as one that can be transformed into a “power of action”. We espouse her suggestion for a “comparative study on the differences in the social and political acceptance, in the self-empowerment and self-determination as ‘natural professionals’ between multilingual/multicultural untrained community interpreters and conference interpreters with a critical translation sociological approach, concentrating on professionalism as ideology, on categories of differentiation such as class, gender, identity and body politics” as a way forward to come closer to the understanding of power relations and ideology in our field. It would be interesting for future research to examine the relationship between the interpreter’s performance and the institutional discourse producer’s ownership of discourse and social practices further. In such a view, discourse ownership could be construed in terms of its relation to power and ideology focusing on the correlation between the discourse producer and the interpreter. Thus does the dominant position of the speakers, be they from the military, political, legal, media sphere or other, condition and influence the interpreter performance limiting his/her power of action (Anderson 2002/1976)? Are interpreters able to produce more or less divergent and non-normative behaviours thus empowering themselves and those they are called to work for? And, if so, to what extent?

Note * While this Afterword was conceived collectively, M. Boyd was responsible for pp. 251–252 and C. Monacelli for pp. 253–254.

References Anderson, Bruce (2002/1976) Perspectives on the role of interpreter. In F. Pöchhacker and M. Shlesinger (eds.) The Interpreting Studies Reader. London: Routledge, 208–218.

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Angelelli, Claudia (2004) Revisiting the Interpreter’s Role: A Study of Conference, Court and Medical Interpreters in Canada, Mexico, and the United States. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Baraldi, Claudia and Gavioli, Laura (2012) Coordinating Participation in Dialogue Interpreting. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Berk-Seligson, Susan (1990) The Bilingual Courtroom. Chicago: Chicago University Press. Biagini, Marta, Davitti, Elena and Sandrelli, Annalisa (eds.) (2017) Participation in interpreter-mediated interaction: Shifting along a multidimensional continuum. Special issue of Journal of Pragmatics 107, January 2017. Boyd, Michael S. (2016) Who/where is Joe the plumber? Interpreting in the US Presidential Debates. In C. Bendazzoli and C. Monacelli (eds.) Addressing Methodological Challenges in Interpreting Studies. Cambridge: Cambridge Scholars, 199–233. Boyd, Michael S. and Monacelli, Claudia (2012) Genre in/exclusion and recontextualization: Interpreting at the Italian Ministry of Defence. In C. J. Kellett Bidoli (ed.) Interpreting Across Genres: Multiple Research Perspective. Trieste: EUT, 184–200. Hale, Sandra (2004) The Discourse of Court Interpreting. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Monacelli, Claudia (2009) Self-Preservation in Simultaneous Interpreting. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Monacelli, Claudia (2016) Ethical issues emerging in civil mediation cases using interpreters. In B. Townsley (ed.) Understanding Justice: An Enquiry Into Interpreting in Civil Justice and Mediation, Co-funded by the Civil Justice Programme of the European Union. London: Middlesex University, 183–192. Pöchhacker, Franz (2004) Introducing Interpreting Studies. New York: Routledge. Shlesinger, Miriam (2000) Interpreting as a cognitive process: How can we know what really happens? In S. Tirkkonen-Condit and R. Jääskeläinen (eds.) Tapping and Mapping the Processes of Translation and Interpreting: Outlooks on Empirical Research. Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 3–15. Takeda, Kayoko (2009) War and interpreters. Across Languages and Cultures 10(1): 49–62. Turner, Graham H. (2006) Sign language: Interpreting. In K. Brown (ed.) Encyclopedia of Language and Linguistics (2nd ed.). Oxford: Elsevier. Wadensjö, Cecilia (1998) Interpreting as Interaction. New York: Routledge.

Bionotes: Authors, Discussants, Editors

Şebnem Bahadır is currently a senior lecturer at the Faculty of Translation Studies, Linguistics and Cultural Studies, Johannes Gutenberg University Mainz. She has a BA in Translation and Interpreting Studies and an MA in English Language and Literature from Boğaziçi University Istanbul. She received her PhD from Heidelberg University with a thesis on the interconnectedness of the roles and positions of interpreter, interpreter trainer and interpreting researcher. She has been working as interpreter and translator for more than 20 years. Besides her research and teaching at different universities, she has been working as a curriculum developer, trainer and consultant in various community interpreting projects and migrant education programmes in Germany. Nitsa Ben-Ari is currently chair of Diploma Studies for Translation & Revision in Tel-Aviv University. She has devoted her career to translation research, translation teaching and translation practice. Until her retirement in 2015, she was head of Translation Studies in TAU. Her major research interest lies in translation and ideology: manipulation, subversion and censorship. She translated 30 books from English, German, French and Italian into Hebrew, and won prizes for her translations of Goethe. She is co-editor of the academic book series Haivrit safa haya (Hebrew—A Living Language). Brett Best is a fully qualified American Sign Language (ASL)/British Sign Language (BSL)/English interpreter, educator and independent researcher. She practices across several continents and institutions and is currently serving on the Board of Directors of the Association of Sign Language Interpreters (ASLI) in the United Kingdom. Marta Biagini is an adjunct professor in FIT, Faculty of Interpreting and Translation (UNINT) in Rome. She is founding member of the LARIM group (http://larim.unint.eu/en/) at FIT and affiliated member of the AIM Centre (Centro Interuniversitario di Analisi dell’Interazione e della Mediazione) of the University of Modena and Reggio Emilia. Her research interests fall within the field of applied linguistics and, specifically, institutional

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discourse, legal and court interpreting, multimodal analysis, research methodology and ethics. Michael S. Boyd is an English language lecturer in the Department of Foreign Languages, Literatures and Cultures at the University of Roma Tre and Adjunct Professor in the Faculty of Interpreting and Translation at UNINT University, Rome. His research interests include political linguistics, new media and CDA for translation and interpreting studies. Eugenia Dal Fovo is an adjunct professor at the Department of Legal, Language, Interpreting and Translation Studies (DIUSLIT)—University of Trieste, where she teaches dialogue and consecutive interpreting. She has also been working as conference and healthcare interpreter for the past ten years. She holds a PhD in Interpreting and Translation Studies. Her PhD thesis was awarded the 2015 CIUTI PhD Award. Her research interests include the observation of interpreter-mediated face-to-face interaction in TV, healthcare and other community settings (dialogue and simultaneous mode). She is the author of the entries on “Media Interpreting” and “Talkshow Interpreting” in the Routledge Encyclopedia of Interpreting Studies (2015). Helle V. Dam is a professor of interpreting and translation studies at Aarhus University. Her publications cover a wide variety of aspects (linguistic, cognitive, sociological) of interpreting, but her current research focuses on the translation and interpreting profession, on issues of professionalisation and on translators and interpreters as a social and professional group; in recent years, she has published extensively on these and other topics within the sociology of translation and interpreting. Paola Gentile is a researcher in Interpreting Studies at the University of Trieste. Her PhD research investigated the self-perceived professional status of conference and public service interpreters with two questionnaires which obtained 1,693 responses worldwide. Her research interests include sociology of the professions, the status of the interpreting profession and the professionalization of conference and public service interpreting, the interpreter’s social role, language rights and interpreting as a human right. Daniel Gile is currently a professor emeritus at ESIT, Université Paris 3 Sorbonne Nouvelle. He is a former scientific and technical translator with academic background in mathematics, statistics and sociology. He studied conference interpreting at ESIT and has been working as a conference interpreter over the past 35 years. His doctoral work was on translation and interpreting and he has been teaching and researching translation and interpreting over more than 30 years. Carlo Marzocchi is an EU official currently working on policy support for the European Council. He was trained as a conference interpreter at

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SSLMIT Trieste in the late 1980s and then worked as an interpreter for the EU institutions for 16 years. Between 1999 and 2005, he taught and did research at SSLMIT, exploring connections between interpreting and the study of political argumentation, translation theory and sociological approaches. Annette Miner is a faculty member at the VRS Interpreting Institute in Salt Lake City, Utah. She is a doctoral candidate at Gallaudet University, focusing on interpreting pedagogy and research. She has over 20 years of experience interpreting and teaching in various settings. She served the Conference of Interpreter Trainers as President, Regional Representative, and as Director of Research and Publications. She holds NAD/RID National Interpreter Certification (master level) and professional level certification from the American Sign Language Teachers Association. Claudia Monacelli is an associate professor at UNINT in Rome, where she coordinates the MA interpreting track program the LARIM research group (http://larim.unint.eu/en/). Her doctoral work at Heriot-Watt University in Edinburgh was on conference interpreting and her research interests involve applied linguistics, interpreting studies, sociolinguistics and pragmatics, with an emphasis on epistemological issues, qualitative research tools, teaching methodologies and ethics. She has worked as a conference interpreter for over 30 years and is currently domiciled in Rome. Christina Schäffner is a professor emerita at Aston University, Birmingham. Until her retirement in September 2015, she was the head of Translation Studies at Aston, teaching courses in translation studies, interpreting and supervising master’s dissertations and PhD students. Her main research interests are political discourse in translation, news translation, metaphor in translation and translation didactics, and she has published widely on these topics. Graham H. Turner is Chair of Translation and Interpreting at Heriot-Watt University in Edinburgh and the director of the Centre for Translation & Interpreting Studies in Scotland. He studied linguistics at the Universities of York and Durham in the United Kingdom and has been a full-time academic and researcher, specialising in social/applied linguistics and sign language studies, since 1988. Cornelia Zwischenberger is an assistant professor in translation studies at the Centre for Translation Studies at the University of Vienna. She holds an MA in translation studies from the University of Graz and a PhD in Interpreting studies from the University of Vienna. Cornelia Zwischenberger is currently working on her postdoctoral research project (habilitation).

Index

agency 25, 80, 126, 131, 165, 203, 207–8, 229 AIIC 7, 8, 9, 13–15, 17, 20, 25, 27–8, 52–3, 56–70, 124, 126, 165, 224, 232, 242, 248, 254 AITI 54, 59–64, 66–7, 70, 242 Assointerpreti 54, 59–64, 66–7, 68, 70, 242 behavior 73, 78, 81, 87, 108, 232–3, 237 behaviour 1, 55–8, 102, 108, 113, 115, 123, 131, 149, 164–6, 176, 192, 203, 207–8, 214, 219–20, 222, 243, 251–2; behaviours 107, 109, 112, 114–16, 255 bilingual 13, 26, 33, 45–6, 117, 121, 142, 146, 256; bilingual mediation(s) 4, 203, 205, 210; bilingual mediators 204–5 bilingualism 9, 47, 144 challenge 95, 130, 137, 183–5, 192, 193, 196, 198, 224, 240, 243, 247; challenged 165; challenges 1–3, 78, 100, 169, 190, 192, 200–1, 215–16, 220, 239, 240–1, 243–4, 249–50, 256; challenging 110, 115, 184, 194, 198, 231, 246 change 32, 33, 35, 44–6, 49, 61, 97, 110, 114, 123, 127, 129, 131, 135–6, 139–40, 149, 152, 160, 163, 165, 222, 246–7; changed 10, 34, 47, 138–9, 150, 247; changes 3, 32, 34–5, 45, 47, 60, 131, 155, 163, 169, 194, 196, 198, 209; changing 2, 3, 20, 31, 33, 35, 80, 88, 97, 102, 136, 221 civil mediation 4, 203–4, 207, 209, 213, 216, 232, 255, 256

code(s) of ethics 87, 125, 129, 209, 215, 229–30, 232, 235–8; code(s) of (professional) conduct 87, 99, 105, 206, 209, 231–2, 235, 248; Code(s) of practice 215, 221, 232, 235, 238 cognitive 42, 52, 53, 56–7, 89, 104, 113, 119–20, 124, 151, 153–4, 166–8, 170, 207, 220, 240–1, 244–6, 249–50, 256, 258; (socio-)cognitive activity 136; (socio-)cognitive approach 169, 216; cognitive (and intellectual) ability(ies) 89, 124; cognitive (and psychological) process(es) 52, 57, 113, 119, 151, 154, 168, 170, 256; cognitive constraints 165; cognitive domain 152, 166; cognitive effort 4, 149, 153, 158, 162, 166, 170; cognitive generation of role expectations 56; cognitive information processing skills 189; cognitive load 153, 154, 159, 163, 164, 167, 169, 183, 245–6; cognitively 69, 103, 152, 153; cognitive mechanism(s) 42; cognitive performance 104; cognitive pressure 244–5; cognitive turn 53 cognitive role theory 56 Cognitive Translation Hypothesis 152, 166 competence 44, 117, 120, 125, 133, 136, 144–5, 167, 233–4; competences 124, 131, 140, 234 conceptual metaphor(s) 3, 151–2, 165–6, 168–9, 254 conduit(s) 23, 42, 87, 108, 136, 165, 167, 222, 225, 229; Conduit model 87, 109, 225, 227–30, 237, 241, 252 confidential 2, 78, 87, 203, 207–9, 216; confidentiality 2, 26, 29, 87, 205–6, 255

Index conflict(s) 40, 86, 95, 99, 108, 118–19, 130, 133, 167, 175, 185, 192, 194–8, 200, 205, 210, 212–15, 222, 224, 232, 254; conflict-eliciting 180–1, 183, 192–6; conflicting 7–8, 11, 28, 115, 211, 213, 230, 245, 255; conflict-mitigating 194, 198; conflictuality 180, 183, 185, 192–4, 196 constraints 154; cognitive constraints 165; contextual constraints 4, 203, 207; social constraints 45; socio-cultural constraints 164, 167; systemic constraints 125 corpus 8, 154–6, 158, 160–1, 165–8, 175, 175–80, 183–5, 188–90, 198–9, 201, 245, 249; corpora 4, 176–8, 202; corpus-based approach 196, 200–1; corpus-based IS 176, 202; corpus-based methodology 250; corpus-based research 199; Corpus-based study 53, 119 Critical Discourse Analysis CDA 206, 208, 213, 247, 249, 258 Critical Link 121, 143, 144, 219 Deaf 81, 91–2; Deaf (high school) student 88, 89, 90, 91; Deaf clients 91–4; Deaf community 80, 91; Deaf informant 79, 81; Deaf interpreter(s) 80, 88, 91, 94; Deaf professional(s) 3, 77–9, 80–7, 90–1, 94 decision 89, 102, 108–9, 112, 117, 163, 234; decision makers 42; decision making 77, 87, 85, 96, 102, 105, 107, 110, 115–16, 133, 138, 151, 164, 168–9, 205, 212, 229, 254; decisions 36, 85, 88, 95, 97, 102–3, 112–15, 127, 138, 152–4, 156, 185, 234, 236–7, 245 defensive medicine 3, 105–7, 109, 110, 115, 118–20 defensiveness 107–8, 110–11, 114 defensive practices 103, 110, 113 Descriptive Translation Studies (DTS) 58, 73, 219–20, 222 deverbalization 244–5 DHA (Discourse Historical Approach) 206–7, 216, 220 discourse 1, 4, 17, 39–40, 50, 71, 100, 118, 124, 154, 159, 167–9, 173–5, 180–1, 186, 190, 192, 197–8, 200, 206–7, 213, 215–16, 221, 224–5, 227, 233–5, 238–9, 240, 248, 250–6,

261

258–9; discourse analytical approach 204, 249–50; discourse based research 229; discourses 39, 53, 140, 228, 235, 238, 254 Ear Voice Span 246 education 3, 34, 46, 97, 100, 108, 118–19, 121–7, 132–3, 137, 141–5, 236, 251, 257; educational 41, 80–1, 88–9, 97, 105, 110, 115, 242 Effort Models 169, 245–6, 249–50 empirical 125, 129, 131–2, 134, 140, 204, 208, 240–2, 247; empirical investigation(s) 242, 253; empirically 69; empirical research 53, 143, 165, 201, 249; empirical studies 53, 55, 122, 127, 246 epistemology 227; epistemological 53, 55, 69, 208, 259 ethics 105, 120, 129, 133, 141, 145, 203, 206, 209, 230–2, 234, 238, 248; ethical 1–3, 8, 12, 18, 28, 78, 86–7, 99, 105, 107–8, 118, 122–5, 127, 129, 132–6, 139–41, 145, 154, 204, 206–9, 213–16, 228, 230–2, 235–41, 246, 248, 251–3, 256; unethical 96–7, 229, 242 ethnography 78, 100, 119, 127, 143, 247; ethnographer 122–4, 140–2, 247; ethnographic methods 249, 253; Ethnographic studies 78 exchange 115, 183, 196, 198, 205, 208, 210, 221–2; exchanges 119–20, 144, 192–4, 198, 219, 226 expectation 58, 81, 84–5, 90, 95–6, 109, 115, 242, 244; expectations 1, 3, 53, 56–9, 63, 70, 77, 80, 84–6, 89–91, 97–8, 109, 116, 135, 149, 165, 167, 173, 176, 192, 210, 213–14, 222, 224–5, 231–3, 255 fidelity 113, 165, 208, 220 findings 37, 53, 59, 70, 77, 81, 88, 126, 150, 153, 155, 208–9, 226, 229, 241, 243–5, 248, 251 fluency 165–7, 229, 245 gatekeeping 209, 212, 220 historic 39; historical 3, 7, 20, 33–6, 44, 46, 48, 201, 251; historically 113; history 11, 17, 20, 34–5, 39, 41, 49–50, 54, 84, 94, 99, 102, 121, 222–5, 252; history-making 175

262

Index

identity 2, 8–10, 15, 19, 28, 30, 33–7, 41, 44, 46–9, 52, 72–3, 123, 125–7, 135, 142–3, 145, 209, 223–4, 236–9, 253, 255; identities 36, 50, 126, 128–30; identity-making 132; self-identity 32, 49 ideology 53, 118, 125–6, 142, 201, 220, 235, 251–5, 257; ideological 41, 247; ideologies 71, 168, 201; ideology-driven 247 impartiality 14, 125, 132, 134, 140, 228, 230–2, 237, 252 institution 53, 72, 84, 110, 207, 232; institutional 1, 45, 49, 52, 68–71, 122, 137, 142, 162, 168–9, 209, 214, 220–3, 251, 255, 257; institutionalised 111, 113, 119; institutionalized 154; institutions 41, 71, 124, 199, 206–7, 219, 222, 224–6, 254, 257, 259 interaction 1, 50, 52, 72–3, 92, 101, 109, 114, 121, 123–4, 127–8, 130–2, 136–8, 140, 144–5, 155, 178, 182, 198, 206, 220, 222, 229, 237, 239, 246–7, 251, 256; interactional 104–5, 112, 119, 149; interactionist 55–6; interactions 77, 83, 90–1, 94–7, 102, 117, 119, 125, 129, 134, 136, 139, 141, 220, 223, 229, 240 interpreter(s) 1–4, 7–31, 33–51, 53, 55–62, 64–73, 77–91, 93–100, 102–5, 107–45, 149–50, 153–69, 175–6, 178, 187–92, 194–5, 198–204, 206–16, 219–48, 250–9; educational interpreter(s) 80, 88–91, 94, 97, 99, 242; fictional interpreter(s) 2, 10, 27–8; medical interpreter(s) 142, 255; simultaneous interpreter(s) 4, 25–6, 34–5, 43–5, 52, 57, 60, 62, 65–6, 149, 164, 245 interpreter training 17, 41, 44–6, 48, 100, 116, 123–5, 127, 132–3, 137–9, 142– 3, 145, 208–9, 219–20, 222–3, 225, 233–4, 237–8, 241, 244, 246, 252 interpreting 1, 3–4, 7–8, 12–13, 16, 22–6, 29, 33–5, 37–9, 41–50, 53, 55–6, 60, 67–8, 73, 80–1, 85–92, 95, 98–101–2, 104–8, 111–20, 123–8, 131–2, 134–43, 145, 149, 153–5, 158–9, 162–8, 170–2, 174, 176, 187, 189, 200, 205, 207–12, 215–16, 221–2, 227–8, 230–2, 235–9, 241, 243–8; bilingual interpreting 213; community interpreting 3, 52, 89,

121, 125, 127, 129, 137, 144, 169, 215, 220, 247; conference interpreting 3, 33, 36–7, 39, 41, 47–50, 52–3, 56, 58, 67, 69–70, 72, 125, 127, 165–6, 169, 219, 222–3, 229, 233–4, 240, 244–5, 250–4; consecutive interpreting 61, 68, 168; court(room) interpreting 13, 29, 119, 221, 256; defensive interpreting 3, 97, 102–3, 105, 107, 109, 111–17, 229, 234; designated interpreting 78, 80, 90, 96; dialogue interpreting 104, 121, 143–4, 256; educational interpreting 99; expository interpreting 102–3, 105, 111–17; healthcare interpreting 120; liaison interpreting 223; media interpreting 202; medical interpreting 117, 203; public service interpreting 145, 242; relay interpreting 225; remote interpreting 35, 119, 221, 224, 226; retour interpreting 224, 227, 252; sign language interpreting 104, 118, 120–1, 144–5, 229, 239, 242, 256; simultaneous interpreting 24, 35, 40, 47, 52–3, 55, 71, 73, 127, 153–4, 163, 165–7, 169–70, 202, 216, 227, 239, 244, 250, 256; television interpreting 178, 201; theater interpreting 110; whisper interpreting (chuchotage) 212 language combination 224 mediator(s) 4, 11, 124, 144–5, 203–6, 208, 210–15, 220–2, 232 medical 3, 46, 49, 84, 108–10, 120–2, 128, 137, 141; medical interpreters 48, 53, 71, 100, 141–2, 255; medical profession 37, 105, 115; medical researcher 25, 105 metaphor(s) 3–4, 13, 28, 108, 110, 120, 138, 149–59, 162–3, 165–70, 209, 229, 239, 244–6, 253–4, 259; (non-)metaphorical 151–3, 155–7, 159–60, 162–8, 209 method (s) 29, 33, 35, 49, 54, 58, 80, 99, 101, 121, 124, 128, 130, 132–3, 135–40, 142, 149–55, 169, 178, 216, 224, 241–2, 246; methodological 167, 170, 212, 215, 216, 225; methodology(ies) 168, 176, 178, 209, 216, 240, 242, 243 modality 203, 210, 212–14

Index model(s) 87, 99, 104–5, 109, 113, 118, 120, 166–7, 169, 225, 227–30, 237, 239, 241, 245, 248, 250; modelling 53, 114, 143 neutrality 14, 29, 78, 84, 96, 99–100, 125–6, 132–5, 140, 144, 228, 230–1, 237, 252 norms 1–4, 53, 56, 58, 72–3, 77, 102–3, 109–10, 115, 117, 135, 149–50, 164–6, 169–70, 173, 175, 202–4, 206–8, 213–15, 219–25, 227–9, 236–8, 240; normative 56, 107–8, 131, 165, 204, 206–8, 213–15, 255 observer(s) 12, 109–10, 122, 127–8, 130, 132, 140, 246–7; observer’s bias 128; observer’s paradox 109–10 participant(s) 21, 62–3, 77–81, 88, 95–7, 103–4, 108–10, 112, 114, 117, 124, 127–32, 134, 139, 196, 198, 204, 207, 209, 213, 219–22, 224, 226, 230, 233, 246; participant observer(s) 3, 110, 127, 140 parties 3, 78, 87, 96–7, 127, 129, 130–1, 134, 204–5, 210–11, 213–14, 229–30, 241; party 3, 22, 122, 128–31, 141, 165, 204, 211–14, 222, 229, 232 patient-doctor (talk/interviews) 137, 228 pedagogy 52, 55, 122–5, 127, 133–8, 141–2 perceived 34, 53, 58, 61, 96, 105, 107–9, 111, 116, 119, 128, 167, 175, 196, 226, 243, 246, 248–9; perceived expectation 109; perception, public 38, 40, 43–4, 48; perceptions, role 230 performance(s) 43–4, 49, 58, 63, 99, 104, 110, 119, 123–4, 126–7, 130–40, 145, 149, 152, 159, 160, 163–4, 166–8, 225–7, 233, 246, 248, 252, 254–5 postcolonial 7–8, 10, 28, 54, 124, 132, 134 post-modern 136, 222–5; postmodern 2, 32–3, 35–7, 41, 43–4, 50, 130, 133–4, 143, 233, 253; postmodernity 32–5, 40, 46–9 practitioner(s) 1, 3, 9, 29, 47, 102–3, 105, 107, 109–10, 112–17, 219, 225–6, 230, 237, 238, 240, 251 press conference(s) 149–50, 154, 159, 164–72, 202, 233, 241, 246

263

procedure(s) 106, 110–11, 150–1, 153–5, 158, 161, 163, 165–8, 204, 209, 251 process(es) 25, 40–2, 57–8, 61, 71, 100, 104, 107, 110, 112–16, 118–19, 124, 129, 131, 133, 135–6, 137, 150–5, 158, 163–4, 167–70, 183, 185, 204–5, 207–8, 211–15, 220, 228–9, 233–4, 238–9, 252, 254–6 profession 1, 3, 7, 9, 12, 16–17, 21, 26–8, 30, 32–48, 50, 105, 110–11, 115–16, 118–19, 126, 135, 140, 142–3, 208, 222–4, 226, 230, 233, 236–9, 241, 244, 253–5; professional 1–4, 7–8, 16–17, 20–1, 23–5, 29, 32, 36, 38, 47–8, 56, 61–2, 64, 67, 70–1, 77–8, 82, 87, 92–3, 96, 99, 102–3, 105–6, 109–17, 122–9, 133, 135, 139–42, 144–5, 149, 152, 165, 202–3, 206, 208, 210, 219–21, 225–6, 230–40, 242–3, 246, 248, 252–5; professionalism 102, 107, 109–13, 118–19, 124, 126, 135, 140, 143, 235, 255; professionals 2–3, 9, 22, 29, 43, 45, 54, 59–61, 64–5, 67–71, 77–8, 84, 107, 112, 125–6, 136–9, 209, 232–4, 237, 242, 251, 253–4; professions 16, 28, 37, 44, 46, 48, 51–2, 72–3, 118–19, 140, 228, 235–6, 239, 258 professionalisation 45, 56, 58, 120–1, 144, 239, 252–3; professionalization 112, 119, 124, 126, 228, 230, 233–8, 258 qualitative 81, 99, 119, 127–8, 136, 141, 144, 155, 225, 242–4, 248–9, 253, 259; qualitatively 52 quality 1–3, 29, 53–4, 58, 67, 71, 97, 104, 117, 121, 124, 126, 149, 167, 202, 228, 238, 248–9, 252–3 quantitative 99, 136, 240, 242–4, 248–9; quantitatively 52 respondent(s) 3, 59, 61–7, 69–70, 104, 161, 185, 209, 225–6, 232–3, 243, 254–5 responsibility 111–14, 121, 138, 140, 211, 213; responsibilities 77, 90, 94, 96, 100, 105, 115, 204 satisfaction 60–5, 70, 126–7, 152, 225, 233, 238, 242–4; disatisfaction 243, 246 self-awareness 1, 41, 138, 149–50, 251 self-empowerment 126, 255

264

Index

self-identity 32, 49 self-image 243 self-monitoring 149, 160, 167 self-perception 3, 37, 40, 46–7, 52 self-preservation 72, 107–8, 112, 216, 250, 256 self-reflection 248 self-reflective 220 self-reflexive 122, 229 self-regulation 44, 119 self-representation 45, 51, 225 situation 23, 78, 87, 93, 108, 113, 122, 135, 137, 167, 177, 185, 204, 207, 220, 226, 229, 236, 253–4; situational 105, 114, 124, 135; situationality 198; situations 54, 58, 102, 109, 111, 115–17, 125–6, 128, 133, 142, 230, 246–7, 249 society 31–3, 37, 40–1, 47, 49, 72, 100, 111, 118, 125, 129–30, 139, 141, 151, 170, 175, 207, 209, 222, 246, 253; societies 36, 123, 125; society-building 128 sociolinguistic(s) 55, 118, 120, 204, 251, 259 sociological 33–6, 37–8, 40, 42, 45–5, 47, 52–4, 69, 120, 122, 126, 149, 248, 254–5, 258–9; sociologist(s) 32, 38, 41, 47, 122, 128, 141, 247; sociology 43, 46, 48–50, 55, 72–3, 111, 118–19, 122, 130, 138, 141, 170, 228, 235–6, 240

stance 102–3, 105, 107–10, 112–17, 135, 160, 184, 192, 194, 196, 204, 206, 228–30, 234–5, 238 standard(s) 1–2, 17, 29, 63–5, 70, 81, 87, 97, 107, 126, 206–7, 215, 219, 225–6, 228, 230, 232–3, 236–8, 241, 243–4, 252, 254; standardization 140; standard-setting 236, 238 strategy 105, 108, 130, 134, 153, 162–3, 166–7, 200; strategic 4, 167, 181, 243, 245; strategically 131; strategies 4, 53, 119–20, 130, 132, 137–8, 140, 149–50, 159, 164, 166–8, 170, 180, 186–7, 197, 202, 251 structural Role Theory 56 turn-taking 210–11, 220, 229 UN (interpreter) strike 35, 44–5, 234 value(s) 32, 37, 46, 57–8, 66, 95, 104, 109, 117–18, 131, 154, 156, 161, 185, 189, 193–4, 206, 209, 234–6, 238, 244, 249; valued 66–7, 81, 93–4; value-free 58 vocation 24, 233–5; vocational 91, 234–5, 238–9, 252 voice(s) 8, 11–13, 15, 19, 21–9, 39, 47, 82–3, 96, 131, 139, 155, 160, 208, 212, 221, 235, 252; voiceless(ness) 28–9; voicing 30