TRANSLATING CRISES 9781350240087, 9781350240117, 9781350240094

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TRANSLATING CRISES

Also Available from Bloomsbury The Bloomsbury Companion to Language Industry Studies, Erik Angelone, Maureen Ehrensberger-Dow and Gary Massey Pandemic and Crisis Discourse, Andreas Musolff, Ruth Breeze and Kayo Kondo Intercultural Crisis Communication, Christophe Declercq and Federico M. Federici

TRANSLATING CRISES Edited by Sharon O’Brien and Federico M. Federici

BLOOMSBURY ACADEMIC Bloomsbury Publishing Plc 50 Bedford Square, London, WC1B 3DP, UK 1385 Broadway, New York, NY 10018, USA 29 Earlsfort Terrace, Dublin 2, Ireland BLOOMSBURY, BLOOMSBURY ACADEMIC and the Diana logo are trademarks of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc First published in Great Britain 2023 Copyright © Sharon O’Brien and Federico M. Federici, 2023 Sharon O’Brien and Federico M. Federici have asserted their right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as Editors of this work. Cover image © Getty images All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers. Bloomsbury Publishing Plc does not have any control over, or responsibility for, any third-party websites referred to or in this book. All internet addresses given in this book were correct at the time of going to press. The author and publisher regret any inconvenience caused if addresses have changed or sites have ceased to exist, but can accept no responsibility for any such changes. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress. ISBN: HB: 978-1-3502-4008-7 ePDF: 978-1-3502-4009-4 eBook: 978-1-3502-4010-0 Typeset by Integra Software Services Pvt. Ltd. To find out more about our authors and books visit www.bloomsbury.com and sign up for our newsletters.

CONTENTS

L ist

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F igures 

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T ables 

N otes

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C ontributors 

Introduction: Crisis Translation beyond Words into Action Sharon O’Brien and Federico M. Federici

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Part I  Concepts and Policies 1 Ethical Considerations in the Translation of Health Genres in Crisis Communication Vicent Montalt

17

2 Extending the Value of Crisis Translation in Crisis Communication Timothy W. Coombs and Elina R. Tachkova

37

3 The Impact of Misinformation in Crises and the Need for Risk Management Kayo Matsushita and Miyuki Inoue

49

4 Translating Personal Narratives of Crisis in Graphic Novels Marija Todorova and Zoran Poposki

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5 The Perspectives of Military Personnel on Interpreters in Violent Conflicts Carmen Valero Garcés

79

6 Are Safety Signs Truly Universal When a Crisis Arises? Adriano Clayton da Silva and Sharon O’Brien

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7 Translating Scholarly Knowledge in Times of Crisis Rafael Y. Schögler

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PART II  Practices: People, Technologies, Processes 8 A Multiparty Perspective on the Provision of Signed Language Interpreters during the COVID-19 Press Briefings in Belgium Karolien Gebruers, Lien Vermeire and Jaron Garitte

127

9 Language and Literacy Brokering in the COVID-19 Emergency Rachele Antonini and Claudia Suprani

145

10 Digital Multilingual Practices in Third-sector Organizations María Jiménez-Andrés and Pilar Orero

165

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CONTENTS

11 Becoming a Translator amidst Crises Néstor Singer 12 The Role of Translation in Ensuring Children’s and Family’s Rights and Psychological Well-being in the Context of the Migration Crisis at the US-Mexico Border Danielle Gonzalez Bustamante, Ryan Matlow and Lisa M. Brown 13 Accessible Crisis Communication for the Blind and the Visually Impaired in Multilingual Settings Silvia Rodríguez Vázquez 14 Cultural Mediation as a Means of Effective Multilingual Communication Maura Radicioni and Lucía Ruiz Rosendo 15 Patient Acceptance of Translation Technology for Medical Dialogues in Emergency Situations Johanna Gerlach, Pierrette Bouillon, Rovena Troqe, Sonia Halimi and Hervé Spechbach

183

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215 237

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16 Universal Access through Mobile Devices in Multilingual Websites on the COVID-19 Pandemic Lucía Morado Vázquez and Jesús Torres-del-Rey

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17 India’s Frontline Health Response to COVID-19: Language and Culture in Pandemics Sneha Krishnan, Rohini Menon and Deepshikha Purwar

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18 The Transformative Power of Wordless Picture Books in Multilingual and Multicultural Contexts Áine McGillicuddy and Debbie Thomas

315

Part III  Frontline Experience 19 Professional Interpreters and Their Associations in the Crisis Landscape Annette Schiller and John O’Shea

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20 The Role of Translation in the Fight for Human Rights Lucio Bagnulo

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21 Language, Culture and Access to Healthcare during the COVID-19 Outbreak in Italy Eleonora Del Gaudio and David Lloyd Webber

359

22 Accommodating Language Needs of Refugee-Background Communities in New Zealand Celia Brandon and Dennis Maang

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CONTENTS

23 A Case Study on the Role of Translation and Cultural Adaptation in GOAL’s Information Campaigns Wine Tesseur, Isaac Chaipa, Enida Friel, Luigi Loddo, Sahady Mencia and Thandolwenkosi Sibindi

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24 Communicating with England’s Homeless during the COVID-19 Pandemic Lockdown Aisha Maniar

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25 Addressing Language Barriers to Provide Inclusive Assistance to Migrants and Refugees Lorenzo Guadagno and Reshma Matthews

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I ndex 

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FIGURES

1

INTERACT Crisis Communication Policy Recommendations

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  1.1 Sample text from an Informed Consent Form

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  2.1 Extended parallel process model

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  6.1 ANSI/OSHA standardization for emergency exits

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  6.2 ANSI/OSHA standardization for flammable materials

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  6.3 ISO standardization for ‘Emergency Exits’

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  6.4 An alternative inclusive sign

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  6.5 Bilingual emergency exit sign in Macau

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  8.1 Co-interpreter Elke Poullet providing interpretation into VGT supported by Karolien Gebruers by Hanne Reyners, Sciensano

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  8.2 Sign language interpreter position on screen

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  9.1 Core themes

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13.1 Summary of recommendations found in the grey literature related to accessible crisis communication

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13.2 Level of accessibility of different communication channels according to BVI

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13.3 Level of frustration felt by BVI users in five hypothetical scenarios where information access barriers exist

228

15.1 BabelDr usage example

255

15.2 Distribution of agreement between the three assessors for each sentence

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15.3 Distribution of ratings for the written trustworthiness evaluation

264

15.4 Distribution of ratings for the spoken trustworthiness evaluation

264

16.1 Compliance criteria in individual pages

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16.2 Example of size differences in actionable items between language versions by the Federal Office of Public Health

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16.3 Example of visible information in CH-DE and CH-EN before scrolling by the Federal Office of Public Health

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FIGURES

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16.4 Compliance with Perceivable Criteria

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16.5 Compliance with Operable Criteria

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16.6 Compliance with Understandable Criteria

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16.7 Compliance with Robust Criteria

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17.1 ICDS – CAS App used in Maharashtra, available in local language for registering pregnant mothers and children’s information

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17.2 Languages available on India’s contact tracing app Aarogya Setu

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17.3 Language-specific (Marathi) physical registers of information

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18.1 Children of different nationalities engaged in activities in Lampedusa Library 319 18.2 Illustration from Bounce Bounce by Brian Fitzgerald

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18.3 Syrian children draw inspiration from the Silent Books

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19.1 Sketch map of crisis settings

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21.1 Emergency’s projects in Italy

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22.1 Alert Level 2 Information in Kayah. Authors’ own translation, infographics

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23.1 First communicational material from GOAL Honduras sent to La Mosquitia, based on information from the HSE

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23.2 A hand wash demonstration in La Mosquitia

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23.3 A mobile unit with COVID-19 messages in Ndebele

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23.4 Mural in Mutare

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TABLES

  5.1 Interviewees’ Profiles

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  8.1 The Nine Dimensions of working with DIs

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  8.2 Overview of Participants and Interview Details – Service Receivers

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  8.3 Overview of Participants and Interview Details – Service Providers

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10.1 Number of LSPs by Type Per Country

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10.2 Details of the Organizations Interviewed

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10.3 Linguistic Services Offered by Organizations Per Country

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11.1 The Translator Identity Statuses in Singer (2021)

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11.2 Participants’ Fluctuation of Commitment to Their Translator Identity

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12.1 Total Apprehensions 2018–20 in Different Sectors of the United States

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15.1 Evaluation Overview

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15.2 Examples of Sentences Included in the Evaluation

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15.3 Understandability Evaluation, Distribution of the Data among Assessors for Both Languages

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15.4 Trustworthiness Evaluation Distribution of the Data among Assessors for Both Languages

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15.5 Majority Ratings for the Understandability of Written Translations at the Sentence Level for Both Languages

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15.6 Majority Ratings for Perceived Trustworthiness of Written Translations at the Block Level for Both Languages

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15.7 Majority Ratings for the Understandability of BabelDr Spoken Translations at the Sentence Level for Both Languages 262 15.8 Majority Ratings for the Perceived Trustworthiness of BabelDr Spoken Translations at the Block Level for Both Languages

262

15.9 ICC Scores for Understandability Evaluation (N=120)

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15.10 Number of Comments Given by Assessors for All Rating Tasks

265

TABLES

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15.11 Example of Utterance Sequence from One Block

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16.1 List of Analysed URLs/Pages and Corresponding Criteria

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16.2 Analysed Criteria with Links to WCAG Guidelines and Success Criteria

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17.1 Respondent Categories and State for the Study on FFHWs in India’s COVID-19 Response

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24.1 Overview of Survey Findings

403

NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS

Rachele Antonini is Associate Professor at Alma Mater Studiorum, Università di Bologna, Italy. Her research interests span from sociolinguistics to humour studies, audiovisual translation, and non-professional interpreting and translation (child language brokering). She is involved in national and international research projects focusing on language brokers and access to information among migrant communities in Emilia Romagna. Lucio Bagnulo is Head of Translation and Language Strategy at Amnesty International, where he and his team successfully endeavour to provide high-quality translations to the organization. He holds an MA in Translation from the University of Bologna, Italy, and an MA in Translation and Interpreting from the University of Westminster, UK. He has worked as a freelance translator, terminologist and interpreter, as well as project manager, team manager and assistant operations manager. An Italian native speaker, he is also fluent in English, French and Spanish. Lucio is an experienced language industry expert who has transformed his passion for languages into his career. He is also a member of the European Commission’s Language Industry (LIND) expert group and Co-Chair of the Global Coalition for Language Rights. In April 2022, Lucio was awarded the prestigious Language Industry Person of the Year Award, which goes to the individual who demonstrates outstanding leadership, understanding or innovation in the language and localization industry. Ploy Naruephon Boonyaban worked with the International Organisation for Migration in Thailand at the time of completing this chapter. She is currently Senior Parntership Coordinator of the ASEAN Australia Anti Trafficking. She holds a BA in economics from Thammasat University, Bangkok, Thailand, and an MA of Industrial Labor Relation and Labor Market Policy from Cornell University, USA. Pierrette Bouillon has been Professor at the Faculty of Translation and Interpreting (FTI), University of Geneva, Switzerland, since 2007. She is currently Director of the Department of Translation Technology and Dean of the FTI. She has numerous publications in computational linguistics and natural language processing, particularly within lexical semantics (generative lexicon theory), speech-to-speech machine translation for limited domains, post-editing and, more recently, accessibility. Celia Brandon was the Regional Pathways To Settlement Manager for New Zealand Red Cross at the time of writing her contribution. She currently is a Team Leader for Kāinga Ora, Homes and Communities in Auckland, New Zealand. She holds a Masters in Social Work from Victoria University, New Zealand. Brandon has 20 years experience in advocacy, stakeholder engagement and management of large and diverse teams.

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Lisa M. Brown, PhD, ABPP, is Professor and Director of the Trauma Program at Palo Alto University and Adjunct Clinical Professor at Stanford University School of Medicine. Her clinical and research focus is on trauma and resilience. She is actively involved in developing and evaluating mental health programmes used nationally and internationally, drafting recommendations aimed at protecting vulnerable individuals and communities, facilitating participation of key stakeholders, and improving access to resources and services. Dr Brown has considerable experience conducting programme evaluations for state, national and international organizations. Isaac Chaipa holds an MA of Philosophy in the Social Sciences and an Honours Degree in Rural and Urban Planning. He is Monitoring, Evaluation, Accountability and Learning (MEAL) Coordinator for GOAL Zimbabwe and is responsible for the development and effective implementation of Project MEAL Systems. Isaac speaks Shona and English, and under the COVID-19 information campaign he participated in the review of information dissemination tools and processes, collated beneficiary reach data and oversaw the evaluation on knowledge uptake. Timothy W. Coombs, PhD (Purdue University in Public Affairs and Issues Management), is George T. and Glady H. Abell Professor in Liberal Arts in the Department of Communication at Texas A&M University, USA. His primary area of research is crisis communication, where he has developed the situational crisis communication theory (SCCT) used widely in research and practice. Professor Coombs’s works include the awardwinning book Ongoing Crisis Communication. His research has appeared in Management Communication Quarterly, Public Relations Review, Corporate Reputation Review, the Journal of Public Relations Research, the Journal of Communication Management, Business Horizons and the Journal of Business Communication. Linda Cottone is currently a PhD candidate in international public law and international relations at the Autonomous University of Barcelona, Spain. She has a degree in Law and is specialised in the international protection of human rights and the law of the sea. She is also a Research Officer at the International Organisation for Migration in Geneva, Switzerland. Adriano Clayton da Silva is Professor at the Federal University of Amazonas, Brazil, and researcher affiliated with the Institute of Language Studies at University of Campinas, Brazil. His research focuses on Translation Theories and Intersemiotic Translation. Eleonora Del Gaudio has over ten years’ experience in the humanitarian field, in addition to her previous practice in sales and marketing within the private sector. She has had various project coordination roles with NGOs operating primarily in Africa. Presently, Del Gaudio is in charge of the international development of EMERGENCY NGO with the aim of strengthening and broadening the organization’s global reach. She has a law degree, an MBA and an MA in International Human Rights Law from Abo Akademi University in Finland, where she is an affiliated researcher and doctoral candidate. Federico M. Federici is Professor of Intercultural Crisis Communication at the Centre for Translation Studies, UCL. Previously, he founded and directed the EMT MA in Translation Studies at Durham University, UK (2008–14), as well as the Centre for Intercultural

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Mediation. His research focuses on the role of translators in crises. Together with Sharon O’Brien, he co-edited Translation in Cascading Crises (2020), and with Christophe Declercq Intercultural Crisis Communication (2020). His articles have appeared in Translation Spaces, International Journal of Disaster Risk Reduction, Disaster Prevention and Management, Cultus and Oxford Research Encyclopedia of Natural Hazard Science. Recently, Federico edited Language as a Social Determinant of Health (2021). He was member of the EU-funded INTERACT Crisis Translation Network (2017–20) led by Sharon O’Brien, with whom he is developing cross-disciplinary projects in the area of crisis translation. He coordinates the STRIVE project funded by the British Academy on translation and the COVID-19 vaccination campaign in Italy. Enida Friel trained as a medical doctor in Albania. She holds an MA in Public Health, and two diplomas on Reproductive Health and Tropical Medicine from the Liverpool School of Tropical Medicine. She has over twenty years of experience in humanitarian and development contexts, including field experience in sub-Saharan Africa, Southeast Asia and the Balkans with various INGOs and the UN. Enida is GOAL’s Head of Monitoring, Evaluation, Accountability and Learning. She is also Vice Chair of the Irish Global Health Network, a unique platform that brings together Ireland-based researchers, practitioners and policy-makers working on global health issues. Jaron Garitte is deaf and grew up communicating in Flemish Sign Language as well as French Sign Language with his deaf parents. He has a background in Youth and People with Disabilities Care but chose a different career path. He has been working as a freelancer for the deaf-led media company Visual Box vzw, carrying out translation work for the government, museums, organizations and so on, working from Dutch/English texts into Flemish Sign Language and International Sign. In addition, he interprets Karrewiet, the children’s news programme at the Flemish public service broadcaster VRT. During the COVID-19 crisis, he was the first ever deaf interpreter provided at governmental press briefings. Karolien Gebruers has been working as a Flemish Sign Language/Dutch interpreter since 2012 and was one of the (hearing) working interpreters at the COVID-19 press conferences. She is the president of Tenuto, a Flemish non-profit organization offering continuous professional development training to interpreters. Karolien has a background in Speech, Language and Hearing Sciences (BAs from Lessius University College) and Interpreting (MA from Humak University of Applied Sciences). Currently, she is a PhD student at Heriot-Watt University in Scotland, focusing on the gendered nature of the signed language interpreting profession. Louby Georges is a leader of the Bahamian-Haitian community in the Bahamas. At the time of completing this chapter, he worked as a Protection Assistant with the International Organisation for Migration in the Bahamas. Johanna Gerlach is Research and Teaching Fellow at the Department of Translation Technology of the Faculty of Translation and Interpreting at the University of Geneva, Switzerland. She holds an MA degree in translation and a PhD in Multilingual Information Processing. Her current work focuses on the BabelDr project, a spoken language translation system for the medical domain, where she contributes to the development and evaluation of interfaces and multilingual linguistic resources.

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Danielle Gonzalez Bustamante is a clinical psychology graduate student at Palo Alto University. She grew up in Caracas, Venezuela; she graduated from Universidad Catolica Andres Bello in Venezuela, with a BA in Psychology. After graduation, she moved to the United States, where she graduated from the Chicago School of Professional Psychology in Washington, DC, with an MA in Forensic Psychology. In 2019, she started her PhD in Clinical Psychology at Palo Alto University. She plans to specialize in the trauma area of emphasis and diversity and community mental health emphasis. Her clinical and research interests are the impact of trauma in families and children in risk situations and the experiences of immigrants and underserved populations. Lorenzo Guadagno worked on migration and disasters at the International Organisation for Migration at the time of completing this chapter. He managed the capacity-building programme on “Migrants in Countries in Crisis” and supported IOM’s Migration, Environment and Climate Change Division. He has worked and published on disaster risk reduction and climate change adaptation, human mobility and ecosystem conservation with international and non-governmental organizations. He holds an MD in Law from the ‘Federico II’ University, in Naples, Italy, and a PhD in Sociology from the University of Sannio, in Benevento, Italy. Sonia Halimi is Professor at the Department of Translation in the Faculty of Translation and Interpreting, University of Geneva, Switzerland. After a long experience as professional translator in a number of UN agencies, she is presently Head of the Arabic unit and teaches pragmatic translation and translation in legal and economic fields (English-Arabic, French-Arabic). She is also involved in various research projects on the development of speech translation systems and L2 learning tools for CALL. In parallel, she conducts research in legal and institutional translation and multilingual medical communication. She is a member of the Centre of Legal and Institutional Translation Studies (Transius). Nathalie Hanley was programme manager with the International Organisation for Migration and worked in Thailand at the time of completing this chapter; she holds a BA in Philosophy and French from Oxford University, UK, and an MSc in International Public Policy from the University College London, UK. Miyuki Inoue is Deputy Director of the Media Strategic Planning Office at the Asahi Shimbun. She was Senior Editor at HuffPost Japan at the time of writing and has covered COVID-19-related news from the beginning of the outbreak both as a writer and as an editor. Previously, Inoue was a staff writer for the Asahi Shimbun. She covered international news ranging from the US election to the historical conflict between Japan and South Korea. Her academic publications include ‘The Future of the Journalism Media’ (2018). She is a graduate of Columbia University’s School of International Public Affairs. María Jiménez-Andrés PhD, is a Lecturer at Middlesex University, London. She was a predoctoral researcher in the Department of Translation, Interpreting and East Asian Studies at Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona (UAB), Spain, where she worked on Information Communication Technologies to promote refugees’ integration in Europe. As a translator and interpreter, María has engaged in various roles at institutions such as

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the Bolivarian Embassy of Venezuela in the UK and Ipsos Mori. She has also coordinated a number of projects with NGOs working with refugee communities in Spain and the UK. Sneha Krishnan is Associate Professor at the Jindal School of Environment Studies and Sustainability, OP Jindal Global University, India. She is trained in psychology, environmental engineering and disaster management. She has worked on a wide range of topics in Asia-Pacific and undertakes creative writing and translation from Hindi and Marathi to English. She is also Founder/Director of a women-led social venture called Environment, Technology and Community Health (ETCH) Consultancy Services, which undertakes cutting-edge social research and impact assessment in development and humanitarian settings. David Lloyd Webber has worked for EMERGENCY NGO since 2016. In his role of Communications and Fundraising Manager, he is tasked with coordinating the organization’s global communications presence, spreading awareness about EMERGENCY’s work, and raising funds for the charity. Prior to this, David’s professional experience includes positions at the BBC’s East Africa bureau, the Next Century Foundation and the Palestine-Israel Journal. He gained a BA in Politics from SOAS, University of London, and a Master’s in International Conflict Studies from King’s College London, University of London. Luigi Loddo is a forestry engineer with over twenty years of experience working in fragile contexts on business development, climate change adaptation, sustainable natural resources management, humanitarian aid and disaster risk reduction fields. He has been working with GOAL for thirteen years and is currently the country director of GOAL Honduras. He is highly experienced in working in multicultural and indigenous contexts. Drawing on this experience, Luigi has been promoting the strategy of first response to COVID-19 from GOAL Honduras based on an approach that focuses on working in urban areas and with indigenous populations. Luigi speaks Italian, Spanish, and English. Dennis Maang was National Settlement Advisor at New Zealand Red Cross at the time of writing his contribution; he is currently Senior Diversity and Engagement Advisor at the Ministry for Ethnic Communities in New Zealand. He holds a BA in Social Work (Bi-culturalism in Practice) from Te Wānanga o Aotearoa, Porirua, New Zealand. Dennis is an experienced social worker with demonstrated success in refugee settlement, crosscultural practice, community engagement, training facilitation and team building. Aisha Maniar is a legal translator and independent researcher. She holds an MSc in Translation Studies from the University of Edinburgh, UK. Her areas of research interest are language and fair trial rights, the privatization of public service interpreting and translation in the UK and Europe, and language and communication issues affecting refugees and asylum seekers. She has worked on a voluntary basis with both grassroots and national charities tackling homelessness in England for many years. Ryan Matlow is Clinical Associate Professor in Stanford’s Department of Psychiatry and Behavioral Sciences, USA. He is a child clinical psychologist, whose clinical and research efforts focus on understanding and addressing the impact of stress, trauma

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and adversity in children, families and communities. He is engaged in programme development and interdisciplinary collaboration efforts that address childhood trauma exposure in communities that have been historically marginalized, under-resourced and/or experienced human rights violations. He has worked extensively in providing trauma-focused psychological evaluation and treatment services with immigrant youth and families, and has visited numerous child detention facilities to interview youth as a consultant in the monitoring of the Flores Settlement Agreement. He has also made multiple visits to the US-Mexico border and conducted interviews with children and families sequestered in Mexico due to the ‘Remain in Mexico’ policy, with the aim of evaluating the psychological impact of US immigration policies and practices. Kayo Matsushita is Professor of Interpreting and Translation Studies at Rikkyo University, Japan. She worked as a staff writer for Japan’s leading newspaper Asahi Shimbun for fourteen years, including three years in New York as the UN correspondent. She later became a conference interpreter and has worked extensively with journalists worldwide. As a researcher, she specializes in news translation and published When News Travels East: Translation Practices by Japanese Newspapers from Leuven University Press (2019). She earned her MA in Journalism from Columbia University and her PhD in Intercultural Communication from Rikkyo University. Reshma Matthews works as a policy officer at the International Organisation for Migration in Geneva, Switzerland. Áine McGillicuddy, PhD, is Assistant Professor in German and Children’s/YA Literature Studies at Dublin City University, Ireland. Her research interests range from multi-modal child exile narratives from the Nazi era to contemporary contexts. She has published books and articles on German literature and on child exile narratives. She was a long-serving committee member and former vice-president of the Irish section of IBBY Ireland and regularly reviews contemporary Irish and international children’s and YA literature for Children’s Books Ireland. She is currently engaged in a Creative Europe project, G-Book 2: European teens as readers and creators in gender-positive narratives (2020–22). Sahady Mencia is Communications, Advertising and Marketing Specialist with an MA in Project Management and over ten years’ experience in working with humanitarian and development organizations. Sahady has been working with GOAL Honduras since 2016 as Communications Officer. She has developed communications strategies for partnershipbuilding and resource mobilization as well as conducting and implementing Social & Behavioural Change Communications. She has also promoted Disaster Risk Reduction Education and Resilience through communications and media. Sahady speaks Spanish, English and Italian. She designed and implemented a multilanguage communication and information strategy to spread COVID-19 health information with the GOAL Honduras team. Rohini Menon is Research and Documentation Officer at Environment, Technology and Community Health (ETCH) Consultancy Services, Mumbai, India. She has an MA in English Literature from Jamia Millia Islamia Central University, India. She undertakes qualitative and quantitative research on public health and gender equity issues in South Asia.

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Chiho Miyake is a Migration Health Officer in Libya with IOM. She holds a BA in Social Sciences from Hitotsubashi University, Japan, a BSc in Nursing from Tokyo Medical and Dental University, and an MA of Public Health from John Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health. Vicent Montalt Resurrecció is Professor at the Department of Translation and Communication of the Universitat Jaume I, Spain. His research focuses intensively on medical translation and communication practices in health care. Author of many articles and publications, with María González Davies he co-authored a reference volume for training language mediators in the healthcare sector: Medical Translation Step by Step. Learning by Drafting (2007). Lucía Morado Vázquez is Senior Research Associate the Department of Translation Technology, Faculty of Translation and Interpreting, University of Geneva, Switzerland. Her research focuses on the areas of localization, computer-assisted translation tools and information technology. A member of the Cod.eX Research Group, Lucía also collaborates with other universities and international institutions as course facilitator, research collaborator and external examiner. Similarly, she regularly participates as reviewer in scientific committees of international conferences and specialized publications in localization and translation technologies. Her main area of expertise is localization standards, and she is currently the co-chair of the XLIFF (XML Localisation Interchange File Format) Technical Committee. Sharon O’Brien is Professor at the School of Applied Language and Intercultural Studies and Associate Dean for Research at Dublin City University, Ireland. With G. Saldanha, she co-authored Research Methodologies in Translation Studies (2013), and with F. M. Federici, she co-edited Translation in Cascading Crises (2020). Her research has focused on the interaction between translators and technology, cognitive aspects of translation, research methods, including eye tracking and keyboard logging, localization and content authoring. She coordinated the EU-funded INTERACT Crisis Translation Network (2017–20) and was a funded investigator in the cross-institutional research centre ADAPT (funded by the Science Foundation, Ireland). Her publications include articles on translation technologies, human-computer interaction, eye-tracking research and crisis translation. John O’Shea is Chairperson of FIT Europe, the Regional Centre Europe of the International Federation of Translators (IFT/FIT). John O’Shea is an active member of the Panhellenic Association of Translators (PEM) and is also a member of MET, the Hellenic Terminology Network, the Hellenic Society for Terminology (ELETO) and Clarity International. He holds an LLB (Hons.) and LLM in European Environmental Law from Queens University, Belfast. He moved from a career in legal academia to translation and for more than twenty years has been working as a legal translator. For over a decade he has been teaching Greek-English legal translation skills at a translation studies centre in Athens, Greece. Pilar Orero, PhD (UMIST, UK), works at Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona, Spain. She is a member of the research group TransMedia Catalonia. She has written many articles and edited books on media accessibility. She acts as leader and participant on numerous EU-funded projects and is the co-founder of the Media Accessibility Platform

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MAP. She works actively in standardization and participates in the ITU, ISO, ANEC and UNE agencies. Her latest publication is the Born Accessible policy paper. Zoran Poposki, FRSA, MFA, PhD, is an internationally acclaimed transdisciplinary artist, curator and researcher. He works in the fields of practice-based research, visual semiotics, social practice, digital visual culture and arts leadership. His artistic research has been presented in more than 100 exhibitions, festivals and biennials worldwide. His public art and curatorial projects have been presented in New York, Hong Kong, UK, Slovenia, Italy and so on. Dr Poposki is the recipient of several international art awards. He is currently Assistant Professor in the Department of Cultural and Creative Arts at the Education University of Hong Kong. Deepshika Purwar is PhD Candidate/Researcher at the University of Twente, The Netherlands. She has several years of experience as a humanitarian practitioner in India and Nepal, working in diverse fields such as geoinformatics, urban planning, public health and behaviour change. Maura Radicioni is a PhD candidate in Interpreting Studies at the Faculty of Translation and Interpreting (FTI), University of Geneva, Switzerland, with a research project on humanitarian interpreting. She obtained her MA in Conference Interpreting from the University of Bologna, DIT, at Forlì, Italy, in 1997. Since then, she has worked as a conference interpreter and interpreter trainer. She was Lecturer in English-Italian Liaison and Conference Interpreting at the Forlì-based DIT of the University of Bologna (2003–19) and also taught at the University of Macerata and Università Politecnica delle Marche, Italy. From July to October 2017 she was involved as a trainer in the first humanitarian interpreting pilot course carried out in Italy, jointly organized in blended-learning mode by the University of Bologna, DIT, and the University of Geneva, FTI. She is a member of the team of trainers for the FTI-ICRC (International Committee of the Red Cross) programme of the FTI to train ICRC interpreters who work in the field. Silvia Rodríguez Vázquez is Research and Teaching Fellow at the Department of Translation Technology of the University of Geneva, Switzerland. Her research work focuses on defining the role of translation and localization professionals in the achievement of a more accessible multilingual web for all, as well as the competences and technology needed for such endeavour. A member of the Cod.eX Research Group from its inception, she was involved in the development of a Swiss Centre for Barrier-Free Communication, a research project funded by Swiss universities, between 2017 and 2020. Lucía Ruiz Rosendo is Associate Professor at the University of Geneva, Switzerland. Her main areas of research are interpreting in conflict zones and scenarios, and interpreter training. She has been involved in the development of blended learning courses for interpreters. She currently teaches on the MA in Conference Interpreting and the MAS in Interpreter Training (University of Geneva). She is the coordinator and trainer for the FTI-ICRC (International Committee of the Red Cross) programme to train ICRC interpreters who work in the field and for the FTI-UNOG course ‘Interpreting in UN field missions’. She has presented at several international conferences and is the author of a number of scholarly papers on the topic of interpreting in armed conflicts.

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Annette Schiller Vice-President of the International Federation of Translators (IFT/ FIT). She is a freelance translator German into English, and an ITIA Certified Legal Translator. She has a BA (Mod) in French and Spanish from Trinity College Dublin, Ireland, an MA in Translation Studies (German) from Dublin City University, a Diploma in Legal Studies from DIT and a PhD in Translation Studies from Dublin City University, Ireland. In addition to her work as a translator, she teaches translation at undergraduate and postgraduate levels at DCU. She is a former chairperson of the Irish Translators’ and Interpreters’ Association (ITIA) and a former chairperson of FIT Europe, the Regional Centre Europe of IFT/FIT. She is also a member of the BDÜ in Germany. Rafael Y. Schögler is Associate Professor at the Department of Translation Studies, University of Graz, Austria. His research focuses on translation in the social sciences and humanities, translation theory and politics of translation. He edited Circulation of Academic Thought (2019) with Peter Lang and is co-editor of Übersetztes und Unübersetztes released in 2020 with Transcript and published ‘Circulating and Canonizing Knowledge’ in Alif in 2018 as well as ‘Les fonctions de la traduction en sciences humaines et sociales’ in Parallèles in 2017. Thandolwenkosi Sibindi is Gender Advisor for GOAL Zimbabwe. In the COVID-19 campaign, Sibindi participated as one of the coordinators of the risk communication and community engagement activities through mobile awareness, mass media and art murals. She was also responsible for integrating gender and gender-based violence (GBV) considerations in the campaign. She holds an MA in Journalism and Media Studies, a Special Honors Degree in Monitoring and Evaluation, and an Honours Degree in Media and Society Studies. She speaks Shona and IsiNdebele. Néstor Singer is Associate Professor at the Department of Linguistics and Literature at Universidad de Santiago, Chile. He holds a PhD in Translation and Intercultural Studies awarded by the University of Manchester, UK. His research interests include translation psychology, translator identity, translator pedagogy and translation didactics. Hervé Spechbach is MD at the Geneva University Hospitals (HUG) since 2006 and Head of the Outpatient Emergency Service since 2015. He has publications about software used in the context of emergency departments, which are mainly service oriented. He represents the HUG at the Swiss Center for Barrier-free Communication and co-leads the BabelDr project, an innovative and reliable medical phraselator, which received the 2018 Innovation Prize at the HUG. Claudia Suprani is a Primary School teacher and the school's delegate for intercultural matters and inclusion. Elina R. Tachkova holds a PhD from the Department of Communication at Texas A&M University, USA. Prior to her PhD, Elina obtained her BA in Marketing and Management Communication and an MA in Corporate Communication from Aarhus University, Denmark. She is Assistant Professor at the Department of Communication Studies at Honk Kong Baptist University. Her research examines how organizational crisis response strategies affect stakeholder perceptions and reputation following a crisis. Her research interests focus on examining the relationship between scandals and crises

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and the communicative implications it poses for crisis communication research and practice. Elina’s work has appeared in several edited volumes and international peerreviewed journals, including the Journal of Communication Management and Corporate Communication: An International Journal. Wine Tesseur is a humanitarian and development consultant with a focus on learning, communications and languages. Her doctoral work dealt with translation policies and practices in Amnesty International (Aston University, UK, 2015). She held a Marie Skłodowska-Curie and Irish Research Council CAROLINE Postdoctoral Fellow in the School of Applied Language and Intercultural Studies. As part of her Fellowship, Wine has been closely collaborating with the Irish humanitarian NGO GOAL on her project ‘Translation as Empowerment: Translation as a Contributor to Human Rights in the Global South’. Wine has published widely on the role of languages and translation in the work of international NGOs, including a co-authored monograph entitled Development NGOs and Languages: Listening, Power and Inclusion (Palgrave Macmillan). Debbie Thomas lives in Ireland and has written five middle-grade novels for children. She trained as a BBC radio reporter in the UK and worked for ten years in Bangladesh and South Africa, writing for aid agencies and newspapers. She is Writer in Residence at Crumlin Children’s Hospital and runs writing workshops in primary and secondary schools across Ireland. She is a facilitator for the government-funded WorldWise Global Schools programme and also works with children in the nonformal sector. She is a director of Nepal Leprosy Trust, a charity that works with people affected by leprosy in Nepal. Marija Todorova is the editor of Interpreting War: A Comparative Framework (2021, with Lucia Ruiz Rosendo). She is the guest-editor of the special issue of Linguistica Antverpiensia on Translation and Inclusive Development (2022, with Kobus Marais) and serves as the editor of New Voices in Translation Studies. Her research has appeared in academic journals and edited collections, including the Oxford Handbook of Translation and Social Practice (2021). She is Executive Council Member of the International Association of Translation and Intercultural Studies and Chair of its Social Media and Outreach Committee. Currently, she is a Research Assistant Professor at the Hong Kong Baptist University. Jesús Torres-del-Rey is Senior Lecturer at the University of Salamanca, Spain, where he teaches translation technology, project and terminology management and localization subjects at both undergraduate and postgraduate levels. For a decade now, he has also taught and coordinated online and face-to-face web and software localization, and more recently web accessibility, courses at the postgraduate level at the ISTRAD Higher Institute, some in collaboration with distance-learning universities, in Spain. Coordinator of the Cod.eX Research Group since its inception, his main research activities and publications over the last years have involved the accessibility of multilingual digital products, the localization of CMS-driven dynamic websites, localization standards and localizer training. Rovena Troqe is Lecturer at the University of Geneva, Switzerland. Her current research focuses on community translation, translated news and intersemiotic translation. Her work has appeared in Semiotica and The Translator.

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Carmen Valero-Garcés is Full Professor of Translation and Interpreting at the University of Alcalá, Madrid, Spain. She is the coordinator of the Research Group FITISPos® as well as the managing editor of FITISPos International Journal. Carmen is also responsible for the Working Group on PSIT of the European Masters in Translation Network (EUDGT EMT-PSIT), EMT board member and co-coordinator of the MA in Intercultural Communication and Public Service Interpreting and Translation. She has edited and authored several books and articles. In 2020, during the COVID-19 pandemic, she edited the e-book El factor humano en el TISP. Investigación y testimonios de la primavera de 2020 / The Human Factor in TISP. Research and Testimonials of Spring 2020. Lien Vermeire has been working as a communication officer at the NCCN since 2016. On a daily basis, Lien coordinates the Risk-Info campaign, a public campaign to raise risk awareness and resilience in Belgium. She has assisted in crisis communication during several exercises and real emergency situations at the NCCN or as part of Team D5, a national team of experts in crisis communication that provides support to (local) authorities when needed. In 2020, she wrote a thesis on inclusive communication in fastburning crises for a Postgraduate Disaster Management. During the COVID-19 crisis, she supervised the translations, interpreters and other specific inclusive communication actions. Katharina von Braun works with the International Organisation for Migration in Nigeria.

Introduction Crisis Translation beyond Words into Action SHARON O’BRIEN AND FEDERICO M. FEDERICI

INTRODUCTION Translating in and for crisis settings presents considerable challenges. First, crisis translation happens in contexts where words are only partial signifiers since the message may be multimodal in composition and delivery. Second, perception of risks, cultural and societal norms, and education levels increase the obstacles to receiving, accepting and acting on information. Third, during the response phase of a crisis, communicators themselves – including translators and interpreters – may be living through the crisis and are therefore potentially operating at physical, emotional and cognitive breaking points. Fourth, embedded systemic inequalities in access to information and infrastructure widen the distance between senders and receivers of messages. The ambiguous title of this volume, Translating Crises, captures the chaotic and challenging context of crisis communication in multilingual contexts. As a title, it shows how the subject of study, translating in crisis contexts, also happens to become the object of study, attempting to understand how crises overturn any standard conceptualizations of translation itself. In this chapter, we wrangle with these pulls in multiple directions with the primary aim of emphasizing that accommodating language needs in crises must be better understood and implemented. The field deserves more studies – quantitative and qualitative – needs more interdisciplinary research and is expected to go through trial and error before finding common ground among research communities and professional communities. The chapters in this volume contribute, through multiple lenses, to our increasing understanding of how translation really matters in crisis communication. We are convinced that crisis translation is a risk reduction tool (Federici and O’Brien, 2020), and this is a theme that we seek to push home in our Introduction. In five sections, we expand on our previous operational definition of ‘crisis translation… as any form of linguistic and cultural transmission of messages that enable access to information during an emergency, regardless of the medium’ (Federici et al., 2019a: 247) to foreground the role of translation and interpreting in other phases of crises. In the first section of our Introduction, we will reflect on the critical gaps in accommodating the language needs of multilingual communities. In the second section, we will focus on current crisis translation practices and procedures; these will be discussed in terms of risk communication as connected to policies and principles of emergency management. In the third section,

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we will reflect on the contexts, actors, experiences and studies presented in the volume. We then move to advocating for change now and in the future. Our concluding remarks will focus on the urgent need for radical, diverse and extensive studies on translation in cascading crises in the hope that such studies will lead to concrete and positive change.

CRISIS TRANSLATION: CRITICAL GAPS This book builds on our previous work (O’Brien and Federici, 2020; Federici and O’Brien, 2020) and that of others (Alexander and Pescaroli, 2019; Federici and Declercq, 2020; Piller, Zhang and Li, 2020; Pyle, 2018). The umbrella term ‘crisis translation’ aims to intensify discussion and debate on the essential role of translation and interpreting in the broader fields of crisis communication (Coombs and Holladay, 2012; Reynolds and Seeger, 2005; Schwarz, Seeger and Auer, 2016), crisis and emergency risk communication (Reynolds and Lutfy, 2018), and crisis/disaster management sectors (see Coppola, 2020). The volume itself can be differentiated from previous work according to several dimensions – temporal, in relation to the phases of a crisis, or the life cycle of a disaster that is considered; geographical, in relation to the local, regional, national, international or global scale of the crises discussed; and modal, taking into account additional modes of communication. Our initial motivation for this work remains, however, as before: to improve the situation from both a practical and scholarly perspective. We return to our previous statement that ‘crisis translation considers language barriers in the context of multi-dimensional cascading effects that widen existing vulnerabilities or engender new ones by means of miscommunication’ (O’Brien and Federici, 2020: 131). We want to amend the reference to ‘language barriers’ – we should only talk about ‘languages’. As languages are merely a natural state of humankind, the barriers are artificial, social constructs. Undeniably, forms of prejudice that affect phonic and non-phonic languages (e.g. sign languages, Makaton) differ. Nevertheless, these prejudices all create impediments to engaging with speakers of other languages, of multiple or rare languages, or different sign systems (in the case of sign languages and Makaton). These socially constructed barriers risk becoming systematic paradigms of exclusion in humanitarian operations, risk reduction campaigns and, as the COVID-19 pandemic showed, global disasters – aptly termed disaster linguicism (Uekusa, 2019). The perception of languages as barriers emerges from viewing ‘both language and culture in monolithic and reifying terms’ (Ndhlovu, 2016: 141), generating what is known as the monolingual mindset (Clyne, 2008; Gogolin, 1997): people (should) speak one main language. This mindset is widespread, pervasive and often financially driven (language services are expensive), thus affecting perception of one’s own language (it is not ‘useful’), language learning (it is difficult) and multilingualism (it is costly, unnecessary; life would be simpler without it). In other words, the monolingual mindset poses limitless threats to disaster management in increasingly multicultural societies, in traditionally multilingual regions and in dealing with people displacement. The monolingual mindset means that the need for translators and interpreters is regularly not recognized until the moment when it becomes apparent that it was a failure to not engage with multilingualism. The solution to this frequently involves ad hoc plans for recruiting local bilinguals to provide translation and interpreting services, but it is coupled with a general misunderstanding of what translators and interpreters do or what they should be expected to do. Talented bilinguals may be recruited, but they may have

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to work without any glossary, terminological resources, dictionaries or even written text with a standardized graphic representation. They (including professional translators or interpreters) may not be afforded physical protection when working in hazardous environments. They will most likely not have access to trauma counselling, despite the fact that they are often expected to listen to and reproduce the horrific traumas that others have experienced. In a world where natural, biochemical and technological hazards are evolving, and risk is often increasing, leading to increasing numbers of displaced people, the monolingual mindset that involves last minute, ad hoc arrangements for language access amounts to reductivism that must be strongly opposed. At the time of publication, the world will have experienced a global crisis of unprecedented scale for at least twenty-four months. Strangely, we cannot yet predict when, or if, this crisis will end. Our collective experience means that we are now much more alert to, and much better informed about, the importance of translation and interpreting in crisis risk communication, preparedness and response. Although this book is not about the COVID-19 pandemic, many of the chapters touch on the topic and present learning and observations based on the experience of this global crisis. The pandemic experience made us reconsider our conceptualization of crisis translation. Future proofing our societies against the ever-changing hazards of the twenty-first century, while attempting to reverse, or slow down, climate change and its human-caused cascading effects, ought to be a priority (Dominelli, 2021). The collective experience of the pandemic should be put to immediate use to connect effective and trustworthy risk communication strategies across languages. The increase in frequency, unpredictability, reach and scale of disasters and crises suggests that we should be doing everything possible to act against the effects of climate change, while at the same time preparing for some of its inevitable fallouts in the coming decade in terms of disasters of unrivalled magnitude (Coaffee, 2019), which will be followed by mass displacements of people across country and continental borders (Oliver-Smith, 2012; 2018). There are calls to be radical and bold and to move beyond lessons learnt from the past, exactly because we do not know how the increase in magnitude of the impact of natural hazards can create new vulnerabilities, how long the effects will last and what level of unprecedented cascading effects will result. From the perspective of translation, this means concrete future planning is required for agile language solutions. In this chapter, we suggest that it is important to reassess the position of translation, interpreting, signing and all models of cross-language communication in risk communication and emergency management. The magnitude of the hazards is somewhat unpredictable, but multilingual and multicultural societies are real, both in extensively multilingual countries in Asia, Africa or South America and in the increasingly multilingual and multicultural conurbations worldwide. Accommodating language needs in risk communication is relevant when planning public health campaigns, as much as when designing global warning systems. Accommodating language needs in risk reduction activities is a radical way to future proof. In the next sections of this chapter, we appraise the chameleonic relationship between communication as part of emergency management and translation – intended very broadly – as any attempt to communicate risks across languages with the purpose of showing how small changes in this area will have a positive impact in reducing the cascading effects of crises. The shift must start at a high level, which is why we need to consider next the relationship between risk communication principles and policy.

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RISK COMMUNICATION: CRISIS TRANSLATION AND POLICY Risk communication follows the temporal dimensions of emergency planning as it engages with designing communication strategies that monitor and control effective, timely and essential communication before, during and after a crisis erupts (Reynolds and Lufty, 2018). Many processes in emergency management depend on efficient risk communication. We summarize how this interdependency is significant in terms of crisis translation practices and scholarship, to move on to offering a synoptic view of how the interdependency underpins the organization and contributions selected for this volume.

Crisis and emergency risk communication: Principles and respect In the context of emergency management, many (English-language) practical approaches to communication build on the six principles of effective emergency and risk communication put forward in the Crisis and Emergency Risk Communication (CERC) Manual (Reynolds and Lufty, 2018). Used as a training manual for managers of the US Centres for Disease Prevention and Control and US Disaster Managers, the manual is highly influential by proxy (how US disaster managers contribute to international operations) and by direct use in the humanitarian sector (e.g. together with The Sphere Project principles 2018; see Miller et al., 2021). The six principles are as follows: 1. Be First: Crises are time-sensitive. Communicating information quickly is crucial. For members of the public, the first source of information often becomes the preferred source. 2. Be Right: Accuracy establishes credibility. Information can include what is known, what is not known and what is being done to fill in the gaps. 3. Be Credible: Honesty and truthfulness should not be compromised during crises. 4. Express Empathy: Crises create harm, and the suffering should be acknowledged. Addressing what people are feeling, and the challenges they face, builds trust and rapport. 5. Promote Action: Giving people meaningful things to do calms anxiety, helps restore order and promotes some sense of control. 6. Show Respect: Respectful communication is particularly important when people feel vulnerable. Respectful communication promotes cooperation and rapport. Each principle is a distillation of best practices and experience-driven suggestions, collected from communication practices in emergency medicine, as much as in disaster management practices; also, each principle represents collective knowledge gained in national and international operations. The sixth principle, in particular, is inextricably linked with multilingual communication. It must be read alongside WHO’s guidance that ‘Accurate information provided early, often, and in languages and channels that people understand, trust and use, enables individuals to make choices and take actions to protect themselves, their families and communities from threatening health hazard’ (WHO, 2017: ix). Accommodating language needs is not a luxury;

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it can be seen as part of the human-rights-based approaches to crisis communication in multilingual settings (O’Brien et al., 2018; Greenwood et al., 2017). ‘Promoting cooperation and rapport’ entails much more than providing translation, or a degree of interpreting, or some language brokering of some sort by whomsoever might be available. It could be argued that the sixth principle requires systematic assessment and planning of language needs. There are multiple ways of accommodating predictable language needs (mapping local languages, referring to census of preferred languages locally spoken, etc.) though it is more difficult to predict the language of tourists and business travellers. However, emergency plans, policies and guidelines precisely work on accommodating what is known and expected to be needed within flexible parameters to accommodate what may be an emerging and unexpected need. To achieve the respectful communication envisaged in the CERC principles, there needs to be high-level commitment and willingness to accommodate language needs; that is why these principles are intrinsically connected with emergency management, as we briefly explain next.

Emergency management: Planning and policies to reduce risks Beginning with policy, we discuss an intricate terrain, which is impossible to cover in detail but must be considered. Risk communication strategies normally feed into emergency plans and policies, which are typically connected with legal frameworks and emergency management activities. Emergency management aims to offer a logical, structured, learnable framework which is flexible yet organized (Enander, 2018) and engages with all the unexpected problems created by any crisis. The statutory legal frameworks enshrine in law some of the expectations for the protection of civil society. The frameworks, however, need to be accompanied by clear policies and, even more, by clear, regularly revised and tested (with training and scenario role play) emergency plans. These plans facilitate cooperation among emergency responders, coordination of institutional resources, collaboration and proactive involvement of communities and individuals at risk; they are frameworks designed to help anybody affected to recover from the impact of emergencies. From the point of view of risk and emergency communication, they rely on linguistic clarity, accessibility, availability, adaptability and acceptability (O’Brien et al., 2018). In short, their effectiveness depends on trained personnel, instruments, technologies, plans, coordination and logistics as much as on communicative efficiency. The UK Institute of Civil Protection and Emergency Management, one of the earliest bodies organized by and for professional emergency planners and managers, defines emergency planning as consisting of the coordination and management of resources and responsibilities relating to the phases of the integrated emergency and disaster management cycles: ●●

Anticipation – horizon scanning.

●●

Assessment – assessing the risks and threats.

●●

Prevention – actions taken to eliminate, isolate or reduce risks.

●●

Preparation – actions taken prior to an emergency to promote readiness and facilitate response.

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●●

Response – coordinate actions during an emergency to save lives and livelihoods, property and the environment. Recovery – actions taken after an incident to restore and resume operations. (ICPEM, 2021: n.p.)

It may be argued that these principles are not representative of all the practices adopted worldwide. Despite this limitation, this practice-based definition reveals an important subtext for us: The responsibilities listed above can never be met one hundred per cent if there is only monolingual communication in a multilingual environment. The contributions to this volume were selected to engage with as many aspects of this broad spectrum of emergency management activities and risk communication as possible. A common denominator across all of the chapters is the overlap between risk and emergency communication which infallibly posits an excessive emphasis on ‘emergency’, thus predominantly leaving considerations of language needs outside most efforts to increase preparedness (creation of mitigating measures) and readiness (ability to deploy mitigation measures promptly) to engage with crises. Language needs and, unfortunately, advocacy to plan for accommodating language needs predominantly remain absent from the most ambitious plans that aim to deal with twenty-first-century risks. The fallible solution continues to be a resolve to find some ways of communicating across languages at the last minute, in the response phase. Hence, if best practice in emergency management dictates that plans are regularly revised, we reiterate here the call for a radical revision of crisis communication practices when designing those plans. Crisis communication policies can be useful instruments to project the CERC paradigm via crisis translation on to the practice-focused activities of emergency management in multilingual contexts. The regular revision of emergency plans makes them ‘living documents’, which can then take into account (possibly evolving) local linguistic diversity. To this end, in September 2019, we put forward ten cost-effective, workable and actionable (INTERACT) recommendations to support crisis communication in multilingual settings (see Federici et al., 2019b). We take the opportunity to re-emphasize those recommendations in this chapter, as a crucial yardstick of what needs to be done to guarantee that multilingual communication is supported in all phases of a disaster with an emphasis on ensuring translation, interpreting, signing and multimodal cross-cultural communication is firmly integrated in crisis communication strategies. The two years of the COVID-19 pandemic have only confirmed how it is necessary and urgent to act. Multilingual communication in cascading crises does not need to be one of the stressor factors but rather can be seen as a way of mitigating risks. With the growing risks from the climate emergency, it is time to produce, revisit or revise policies on multilingual crisis communication that can be readily implemented. Selected as EU Innovation Radar 34508, the ten most crucial recommendations presented in Figure I.1 have circulated widely among the International Humanitarian Sector. They work alongside standard practices in emergency management and do not require the sector to rethink its approaches (though there are calls for doing this too). These recommendations challenge the monolingual mindset and its corollary ideology that remains influential in many operational contexts in which crisis translation takes place. We share Auer and Wei’s (2007) opinion that the Western monolingual ideology has falsely and unnecessarily construed linguistic diversity predominantly as a problem to solve. Other perspectives are possible, as we will discuss in the next section where we explore the themes emerging from the chapters of this volume.

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FIGURE 1  INTERACT Crisis Communication Policy Recommendations © Federico M. Federici, Sharon O’Brien, Patrick Caldwell, Jay Marlowe, Brian Gerber and Olga Davis 2019, International Network in Crisis Translation Policy Report, Dublin City University (https:// www.innoradar.eu/innovation/34508).

CONTEXTS AND ACTORS IN STUDIES AND FIELD EXPERIENCES The volume provides us with insights on crisis contexts that have thus far received little attention. There are themes that cut across all chapters (timeliness and urgency of message, language needs and resourcing issues). There are also themes that weave through multiple chapters. The contributors focus on children’s experience of crisis (Chapter 9), military personnel and interpreters (Chapter 5) and homelessness contexts (Chapter 24). Commentaries are provided from regions that had not received much prior coverage (e.g. Belgium in Chapter 8; the Mexican-US border in Chapter 12; India in Chapter 17), and there is inclusion of novel content types (e.g. graphic novels in Chapter 4 and wordless picture books in Chapter 18). Not least, we are very proud of the contributions to this volume from frontline organizations (Chapters 20–25), which provide us with confirmation (as if it were necessary) of the need for translation and interpreting in crisis settings and add a welcome practice-based voice alongside the academic contributions. Furthermore, the evidence from organizations and institutions operating in crises, summarized and presented in the chapters of this volume (Chapters 8 and 10), show how ignoring language needs at any level, phase or interaction in relation to crises affects relationships that rely on respect. To earn trust and establish credible ecosystems of communication, showing respect through information in languages and formats that people understand and can access is inescapable (Chapter 25). Clear and effective communication that is thought through to achieve behaviour change and risk reduction works better for everybody when it is designed to reach everybody (Chapter 2). It has better reach if it is designed to include different levels of literacy, non-dominant neurotypes and people with disabilities (Chapter 16). Detail and nuance can always be added, but missing

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the opportunity of showing respect makes communication less trusted and its suggestions and recommendations less impactful, which proves to be detrimental to prolonged crises. Again, COVID-19 communication strategies by a number of governments have shown how the problem with trustworthy communication starts with the formulation of the message itself. If the very source text is of poor quality, as is often the case in the demands and time pressures of the response phase of a crisis, then any translation, signing and interpretation are made more difficult. The speed of communication nowadays also provides a considerable challenge when problematic concepts in one dominant language (often English) are subsumed into other languages with confusing effect (Chapter 3). The role of translation technologies is addressed directly in this volume in Chapter 15, and this topic has also been treated elsewhere (see, for example, O’Brien, 2019; Cadwell, O’Brien, de Luca, 2019). Chapters 13, 15 and 16 add a welcome perspective on technologies for accessibility, which has received relatively little attention in translation studies in general. Drawing again on the COVID-19 pandemic, we now have an even greater understanding of the need for accessibility of multilingual content in general, but especially for crisis management. Linking to the topic of policy, practices for creating accessible content need to be called out in policy and considered as part of the crisis communication practice from the start of any cycle. Chapter 6, while not about accessibility in a strict sense, considers intersemiotic translation as accessible practice. This is also an under-researched topic in crisis translation; often seen as universal, nonlanguage-specific, effective and economic solutions, pictograms, signs and other nontextual ways of communicating are sometimes considered sufficient to provide and share information. However, Chapters 17 and 25 in this collection also show that they do not suffice as standalone solutions. Several of the chapters in this book address the topic of translator/interpreter training (Chapters 5, 11 and 19) for or during crises, of who is responsible for producing translation for crisis preparedness and response, their need for and level of training and the ethical challenges that come with these questions (see also Chapters 1 and 12). It is important to highlight that a crisis is, by its very nature, exceptional. Normal standard practices cannot, therefore, be expected in all stages of crisis translation. For instance, where a life-or-death situation exists, there will be little or no time to validate the credentials of a volunteer interpreter. Or, if a patient needs emergency surgery but has to wait for the translation of a consent form, they could very well be dead if normal translation practices are followed. On the other hand, with robust translation policies in place, a hospital would have pre-translated their consent forms into all of the main languages of the communities they typically serve in advance of such a requirement, and this could easily be done by a professional translator. The debates on these topics tend to focus on two main concerns: (1) the organizations that produce the translation, and their status and motives; (2) the individuals, their training and their status as ‘professionals’ or otherwise. Questions and discussion on these issues are welcome because they encourage essential debate on what is at stake: access to potentially life-saving information on the one hand – a human right, as has been argued by Greenwood et al. (2017) – and potentially incorrect (and life-threatening) or no information on the other hand. By allowing for conceptual and practical recognition of citizen crisis translators, there is a perceived undermining of what is understood to represent the commercial profession of translation and interpreting. These difficult debates will, no doubt, go on for quite some time and will not be solved in this volume. Nonetheless, we take the opportunity to summarize our own

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perspectives on these issues. Requirements in a crisis are often sudden and cannot be predicted, or at least not with exactitude. The ‘profession’ of translating and interpreting is not a global construct, nor is training available in all countries of the world. Therefore, there is little to be gained from imposing top-down, commercial and ethical codes of practice on an area that is typified by chaos and uncertainty. Natural translators and interpreters exist or are forced into operation by virtue of the fact that they understand and speak multiple languages. Wikipedia, the practice of fansubbing, translation in INGOs (Tesseur, 2018) and ad hoc interpreting in the military (see Chapter 5, this volume), health and police settings (e.g. Drugan, 2019) give us an indication of how extensive this phenomenon is. Critically analysing the reasons for existence, the work and its impact (which is not all negative) is important and should not be done from the standpoint that those who carry out such work do not have a right to do so. We could consider the argument that such actors are being exploited, but this latter point is linked with the concept of ‘volunteering’, which is a known asset in disaster studies and emergency management (see the extensive review in Whittaker, McLennan and Handmer, 2015). As outlined in the document Volunteer Coordination in Civil Defence Emergency Management (CDEM, 2013), for example, volunteers in emergency settings need to be treated with respect, as well as being ‘guided’. They do not, however, need to be ‘educated’ or ‘turned into’ professional translators or interpreters. Rather, the professions, where they exist, should consider how they can support this activity that will not simply go away (see Federici et al., 2021, for a good example of professional and non-professional collaboration). Finally, it is completely legitimate for translation studies scholars to actively research and collaborate in the domain of crisis management without having to serve the ‘betterment of the profession and only the profession’ (Pym, 2012: 81). Researchers must investigate phenomena that exist; ignoring phenomena will not diminish the professional risks associated with them and will only endanger the possibility of improving awareness around how translation and interpreting can contribute towards diminishing risks. Researchers cannot ignore phenomena because of their personal or professional disagreement with what the phenomena entail. They seek instead to understand challenging contexts through systematic, critical and rigorous methods.

ADVOCATING CHANGE We have seen how CERC relies on communication systems borne out of experiences, communication theories (such as those discussed in Chapter 2) and approaches used in public health campaigns, as much as lessons learnt from communication needs experienced during previous disasters in the response, recovery and reconstruction phases. For emergency planners, hard evidence from over forty different scientific fields (Alexander, 2021: 5) has proven that successful emergency management hinges on indepth knowledge of local needs. Yet, how can the COVID-19 vaccination campaign intending to reach Spanish-speaking Indo-American residents in Southwark, London, not consider the use of Spanish or Portuguese? How can recent, exposed and fearful migrants know that they are entitled, in their interest and that of all UK residents, to health services and vaccination if they are not told so in their own languages? How can this be true also in the diverse linguistic and ethnic communities in Sierra Leone? How can this be the same for Korean-speaking communities in Wuhan at the outset of the pandemic? These are not rhetorical questions. The multilingual composition of local communities

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matters irrespective of whether multilingualism is part of the historical make-up of the country (as in Sierra Leone), a recent phenomenon dictated by socio-economic factors (as in London), created through business-related travel (in Wuhan) or through combinations of these and multiple other factors. These three examples draw on our direct experience of work in crisis translation settings. However, all the contributors in this volume show crisis and emergency risk communication matters in a wide variety of contexts. It matters regardless of the scale of the emergency, its locale, its nature, its duration or its impact on the local society. A cascading crisis, such as COVID-19, has also shown how the complexity of current disasters is ‘the rule, not the exception’ (Alexander, 2021: 5), and language has been described as a visible vulnerability very early in the pandemic (Piller, Zhang and Li, 2020). In extremely simplified but unfortunately valid terms, in the Global North, ethnic and language minorities have had less detailed or no information (even if it was shambolic in the source language, as is the case in the UK and the USA). This has corresponded with more widespread contagion and higher hesitancy towards mitigating measures and vaccination (for a global scale early assessment, see Lazarus et al., 2020). Indeed, ignorant campaigns such as those of the Anti-Vaxxers or No-Maskers are also to blame for the lack of trust in information, but the disproportionate vaccination hesitancy and trust in preventative measures predates these phenomena. In the Global South, the social disparities and inequalities in accessing vaccines at affordable prices and the inequalities in having access to information with the consequences of mistrusting the public health campaign will need to be investigated in detail. Climate change is altering all the parameters that have affected disasters and crises so far, making the impact of natural hazards more unpredictable, sustained and violent. What is becoming apparent is that emergency planning for the climate crisis cannot rely on the lessons learnt from the past. Looking at past cascading crises to create emergency plans for the future is no longer enough (Alexander, 2021). Now is the time then to accept that translation and interpreting have a phenomenally important role to play in mitigating the outcomes of future crises. Emergency management and its related communication plans should draw upon ‘openness, transparency, participation, collaboration, and coordination’ (Alexander, 2021: 6). To achieve these principles, multilingual communication is crucial. To test ideas, listen to, learn from, respect and acknowledge diverse experiences and requirements, translation is essential. As the examples in Chapter 17 of this volume show, language variety and dialectal variety play an important role in interacting with communities in effective ways. Processes to rebalance communication are crucial (Chapters 21 and 22 offer examples of this). However, the types of communications considered here are never only about sharing information from a large international, or regional, lingua franca, but need to include two-way communication from hitherto less heard voices and communities whose specific needs and requirements dictate the success of any response and recovery.

CONCLUSIONS Each chapter in this book deserves an in-depth reading in its own right, and we did not want to reduce them to a summary in our Introduction. Instead, we opted for highlighting themes and topics that have emerged. The chapters remind us that, while conducting studies in crisis translation, we are never far away from ethical and deontological questions: Who can produce the best translations, signed renderings and

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interpretations in the limited and constrained contexts of a response? Who should decide which languages are needed and which ones can be ignored? Who should be responsible for changing policies and embedding the INTERACT recommendations into current crisis communication practices? Who should engage with crisis and disaster managers to encourage small changes in perspective in order to increase resilience and preparedness across all communities, including language and ethnic minorities? The fact that translation and interpreting in crises are not regulated by professional practices, and maybe they could never be, forces us to analyse, test, challenge, examine, assess, revise, debate and engage with the phenomenon ever more than before. Dismissing uncomfortable phenomena – use of children as language brokers, asking bilinguals to interpret in a military hospital or calling on citizen translators to complete a project in languages not available on the local or regional professional market – means accepting defeat. Researchers are bound by the integrity of their professional code of conduct to engage with phenomena, at least to understand their full impact. Furthermore, focusing only on the phase of crisis response does not offer a complete perspective. Much can be gained from opening other crisis phases to the empowering impact of translation and interpreting. We believe that translation matters for social dignity, for equality and inclusion, not to mention for safety. The chapters of this volume show how broad-ranging the contexts are that can be positively impacted if we treat translation as a risk reduction tool. T&I professionals, NGO officers, language communities and researchers must all advocate for these changes. Our hope is that the collective efforts presented in the chapters that follow will act as inspiration to encourage readers to put forward daring new planning approaches for the (un)expected crises of the future, which will need to reckon with the previously unfaced hazards caused by climate change.

REFERENCES Alexander, D. E. (2021). In Britain and Europe, Emergency Preparedness and Response Capacity Need Radical Improvement – A Manifesto. Personal Communication (29 September 2021). Alexander, D. E. and Pescaroli, G. (2019). ‘The role of translators and interpreters in cascading crises and disasters’. Disaster Prevention and Management: An International Journal 29(2): 144–56. https://doi.org/10.1108/DPM-12-2018-038. Auer, P. and Wei, L. (2007). ‘Introduction: Multilingualism as a problem? Monolingualism as a problem?’ In P. Auer and L. (eds), Handbook of Multilingualism and Multilingual Communication, 1–12. Amsterdam: Walter de Gruyter. Cadwell, P., O’Brien, S. and DeLuca, E. (2019). ‘More than tweets: A critical reflection on developing and testing crisis machine translation technology’. Translation Spaces 8(2): 300–33. CDEM. (2013). Volunteer Coordination in CDEM. Director’s Guideline for Civil Defence Emergency Management Groups [DGL 15/13]. Wellington, New Zealand: Ministry of Civil Defence & Emergency Management. Available online: https://www.civildefence.govt.nz/ assets/Uploads/publications/dgl-15-13-volunteer-coordination-in-cdem.pdf (accessed 23 September 2021). Clyne, M. (2008). ‘The monolingual mindset as an impediment to the development of plurilingual potential in Australia’. Sociolinguistic Studies 2(3): 347–66.

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Coaffee, J. (2019). Futureproof: How to Build Resilience in an Uncertain World. New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press. Coombs, W. T. and Holladay, S. J. (eds) (2012). The Handbook of Crisis Communication. Oxford and Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell. Coppola, D. P. (2020). Introduction to International Disaster Management. 4th edition. Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann. Dominelli, L. (2021). ‘Hazards, social resilience, and safer futures’. In Oxford Research Encyclopedia of Natural Hazard Science. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press. https://doi.org/10.1093/acrefore/9780199389407.013.381. Drugan, J. (2019). ‘Police communication across languages in crisis situations: Human trafficking investigations in the UK’. In F. M. Federici and S. O’Brien (eds), Translation in Cascading Crises, 46–66. London and New York: Routledge. Enander, A. (2018). ‘Principles of emergency plans and crisis management’. In N. Möller, S. O. Hansson, J. E. Holmberg and C. Rollenhagen (eds), Handbook of Safety Principles, 711–31. Hoboken, NJ: Wiley and Sons.10.1002/9781119443070. Federici, F. M. and O’Brien, S. (2020). ‘Cascading crises: Translation as risk reduction’. In F. M. Federici and S. O’Brien (eds), Translation in Cascading Crises, 1–22. London and New York: Routledge. Federici, F. M. and Declercq, C. (eds) (2020). Intercultural Crisis Communication. Translation, Interpreting and Languages in Local Crises. London and New York: Bloomsbury Academic. Federici, F. M., O’Hagan, M., O’Brien, S. and Cadwell, P. (2019a). ‘Crisis translation training challenges arising from new contexts of translation’. Cultus 12: 246–79. Available online: https://www.cultusjournal.com/files/Archives/Cultus_2019_12_013_Federici_et-al.pdf (accessed 21 September 2021). Federici, F. M., O’Brien, S., Cadwell, P., Marlowe, J., Gerber, B. and Davis, O. (2019b). INTERACT Recommendations on Policies. doi.org/10.53241/INTERACT/002. Available online: http://doras.dcu.ie/23880 (accessed 21 September 2021). Federici, F. M., O’Hagan, M., Cadwell, P., Marlowe, J. and O’Brien, S. (2021). ‘Ecosystems of preparedness in New Zealand: Empowering communities and professionals with crisis translation training’. In J. Wakabayashi and M. O’Hagan (eds), Translating and Interpreting in Australia and New Zealand. Distance and Diversity, 125–45. London: Routledge. Gogolin, I. (1997). ‘The “monolingual habitus” as the common feature in teaching in the language of the majority in different countries’. Per Linguam 13(2): 38–49. Greenwood, F., Howarth, C., Poole, D. E., Raymond, N. R. and Scarnecchia, D. P. (2017). The Signal Code: A Human Rights Approach to Information during Crisis. Harvard Humanitarian Initiative. Available online: https://hhi.harvard.edu/publications/signal-code-human-rightsapproach-information-during-crisis (accessed 2 September 2021). Guadagno, L. (2020). ‘Migrants and the COVID-19 pandemic: An initial analysis’. In Migration Research Series N° 60. Geneva: International Organization for Migration (IOM). Lazarus, J. V., Ratzan, S. C., Palayew, A., Gostin, L. O., Larson, H. J., Rabin, K., Kimball, S. and El-Mohande, A. (2020). ‘A global survey of potential acceptance of a COVID-19 vaccine’. Nature medicine 27: 225–8. Miller, A. N., Collins, C., Neuberger, L., Todd, A., Sellnow, T. L. and Boutemen, L. (2021). ‘Being first, being right, and being credible since 2002: A systematic review of crisis and emergency risk communication (cerc) research’. Journal of International Crisis and Risk Communication Research 4(1): 1–28.

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Ndhlovu, F. (2016). ‘Language, migration, diaspora’. In O. García, N. Flores and M. Spotti (eds), The Oxford Handbook of Language and Society, 141–60. New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press. O’Brien, S. (2019). ‘Translation technology and disaster management’. In M. O’Hagan (ed.), Routledge Handbook of Translation and Technology, 304–18. London: Routledge. O’Brien, S. and Federici, F. M. (2020). ‘Crisis translation: Considering language needs in multilingual disaster settings’. Disaster Prevention and Management: An International Journal 29(2): 129–43. https://doi.org/10.1108/DPM-11-2018-0373. Available online: https://discovery.ucl.ac.uk/id/eprint/10077584/. O’Brien, S., Federici, F. M., Cadwell, P., Marlowe, J. and Gerber, B. (2018). ‘Language translation during disaster: A comparative analysis of five national approaches’. International Journal of Disaster Risk Reduction 31: 627–36. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.ijdrr.2018.07.006. Oliver-Smith, A. (2012). ‘Debating environmental migration: Society, nature, and population displacement in climate change’. Journal of International Development 24(8): 1058–70. https://doi.org/10.1002/jid.2887. Oliver-Smith, A. (2018). ‘Disasters and large-scale population dislocations: International and national responses’. In Oxford Research Encyclopedia of Natural Hazard Science, 1–40. Oxford and New York: University Press. https://doi.org/10.1093/ acrefore/9780199389407.013.224. Paremoer, L., Nandi, S., Serag, H. and Baum, F. (2021). ‘Covid-19 pandemic and the social determinants of health’. BMJ 372. Piller, I., Zhang, J. and Li, J. (2020). ‘Linguistic diversity in a time of crisis: Language challenges of the COVID-19 pandemic’. Multilingua 39(5): 503–15. https://doi.org/ doi:10.1515/multi-2020-0136. Project Sphere. (2018). The Sphere Project: Humanitarian Charter and Minimum Standards in Humanitarian Response. 4th edition. Geneva: Mc Connan. Available online: https:// spherestandards.org/wp-content/uploads/Sphere-Handbook-2018-EN.pdf (accessed 7 October 2021). Pyle, A. S. (2018). ‘Intercultural crisis communication: Examining the experiences of crisis sojourners’. Journal of Applied Communication Research 46(3): 388–407. Pym, A. (2012). On Translator Ethics: Principles for Mediation between Cultures. Amsterdam and Philadelphia, PA: John Benjamins Publishing. Reynolds, B. and Lutfy, C. (2018). Crisis and Emergency Risk Communication. 2018 edition. 4th edition. Atlanta, GA: US Department of Health and Human Services – Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Reynolds, B. and Seeger, M. W. (2005). ‘Crisis and emergency risk communication as an integrative model’. Journal of Health Communication 10(1): 43–55. https://doi. org/10.1080/10810730590904571. Schwarz, A., Seeger, M. W. and Auer, C. (2016). The Handbook of International Crisis Communication Research. Oxford and Haboken, NJ: John Wiley & Sons Inc. Tesseur, W. (2018). ‘Researching translation and interpreting in non-governmental organisations’. Translation Spaces 7(1): 1–19. Uekusa, S. (2019). ‘Disaster linguicism: Linguistic minorities in disasters’. Language in Society 48(3): 353–75. WHO. (2021). ‘Celebrating international translation day on 30 September: Open WHO multilingual approach advances equity’. Available online: https://openwho.org/ news#post_0a31875d-22ce-4ebe-bc84-759d001fc09b (accessed 7 October 2021).

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WHO. (2017). Communicating Risk in Public Health Emergencies. A WHO Guideline for Emergency Risk Communication (ERC) policy and practice. Geneva: World Health Organization. Available online: https://reliefweb.int/sites/reliefweb.int/files/ resources/9789241550208-eng_0.pdf (accessed 7 October 2021). Whittaker, J., McLennan, B. and Handmer, J. (2015). ‘A review of informal volunteerism in emergencies and disasters: Definition, opportunities and challenges’. International Journal of Disaster Risk Reduction 13: 358–68.

PART I

Concepts and Policies

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CHAPTER ONE

Ethical Considerations in the Translation of Health Genres in Crisis Communication VICENT MONTALT

INTRODUCTION The ethical dimensions in which translators and interpreters operate can be seen as a web of distributed responsibility. I start from the premise that in it there is scope for a broader understanding of the interpersonal influences on the situation in which the text is being used or the interaction is taking place. My aim in this chapter is to contribute to the creation of a broader understanding of text and interaction – for example, medical consultation and informed consent process – as a genre which is entangled in and influenced – if not determined – by implicit and explicit networks of values or ethics. This chapter consists of 7 sections. In addition to linguistic diversity, linguistic variation and heteroglossia are critical concepts for understanding some of the ethical challenges that translators and interpreters face. The concept of genre can help us to understand how different registers and styles are used in different communicative situations (Section 2). I will consider the problematic issue of diglossia in multilingual contexts and how it affects the deployment of specific genres (Section 3). I will then focus on the ethical dimension of informed consent (IC) (Section 4), which is a genre of crucial relevance in clinical settings and one that reflects some of the most pressing ethical complexities and challenges for translators and interpreters (Section 5). Next, I will underline the semiotic, interactional and translational nature of IC as a case in focus (Section 6). And finally, I will pose some questions for future research (Section 7). Ethos can be used as an umbrella concept to refer to the values and practices that distinguish one person, profession, institution, organization or society from another. Two other umbrella concepts can be useful to complement the scope of ethos in crisis situations: logos and pathos (see Montalt, 2020). In this chapter, the discussion of ethos revolves around its meaning in relation to language variation and the role of health genres in crisis situations, where several dimensions of ethics and social responsibility coexist.

With the financial support of the Spanish Ministerio de Ciencia, Innovación y Universidades for the project ‘Creation of multilingual resources for improving doctor-patient communication in Public Health Services’ PGC2018-098726-B-I00.

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The first dimension refers to the fact that translators and interpreters have their own professional and personal ethics; they have their deontological codes and can position themselves in a range of ethical roles, such as neutrality or advocacy, sometimes giving rise to conflicts between the simplicity of those abstract codes and the complexity of specific situations. In a discussion about advocacy in health communication, Health Collaborative (2016: 261) states: It is worth repeating: when acting as an interpreter, avoid taking on an advocacy role. However, sometimes, not to take action is morally unacceptable. Perhaps someone is at risk of having surgery on the wrong part of the body. If the risk to a patient’s safety, health, well-being or human dignity is serious enough, you may think that you have no other moral choice but to take action or speak up. It might simply be inhumane to stand by and do nothing. Mediation, that is, the extent to which translators and interpreters intervene in the transfer process, feeding their own knowledge, attitudes, beliefs and values (Hatim and Mason, 1997), is common to all forms of translation and a central concept in translation studies. The translator/interpreter and her ‘text’ have been for a long time, and still are, the ‘central ethical question’ (Drugan and Tipton, 2017: 122). However, in health communication moral choices may arise that require a broader angle of vision. A second dimension is that of the health professions, both in healthcare – that is, professionals in clinical practice devoted to maintaining or restoring the physical, mental or emotional health and well-being of individual patients – and in public health – that is, those working for the protection and improvement of community health in entire populations, including disease prevention, epidemiology and hygiene. Their ethical codes regulate their clinical and social activities, including the way they use information, language and communication with patients and the public. As a ‘caring’ profession, medicine has a long tradition of ethics and social responsibility. Health professionals are expected to act with integrity, to be honest and transparent about the decisions they reach and how they reach them. The ethical principles that regulate the activities of health professionals also include respecting patients’ dignity, treating them in a humane and compassionate way, maintaining confidentiality about information regarding their health, ensuring that patients are given the care and resources they need or making sure that they receive the relevant information in a way that can enable them to participate in their therapeutic processes as well as in preventive actions. Similarly, most people would agree that patients and the public should behave in a responsible way, provide true information about their identity and health circumstances, treat health professionals with respect and use health resources and facilities responsibly. Effective communication is essential to foster trust on both sides. The third dimension I would like to consider is that of the humanitarian sector, a crucial player in many crisis settings, which has traditionally adopted the four principles of humanity, impartiality, independence and neutrality, commonly referred to as humanitarian principles. Crises unfold in whole or in part in complex contexts in which ethics and responsibility are shared by multiple individuals and agencies. Ethos and ethics exist in a continuum, and the difference between them is one of degree. At one extreme, we can see negative deviance – that is, the unethical, the dishonest. At the opposite extreme we find positive deviance – that is, ethos, virtuousness. And in the middle ground, we perceive the normal – that is, the ethical, the dutiful (Caza, Barker

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and Cameron, 2004: 172). Thus, ethos establishes a broad framework, a fixed referent in times of change and uncertainty: ‘it represents what people aspire to when at their best and when they do their best’ (Caza, Barker and Cameron, 2004: 173). Translators and interpreters in crisis situations operate in at least the three dimensions mentioned above and often face dilemmas that require ethical competence, a crucial – and often missing – aspect in translator training. Washbourne (2013: 47) defines this educational challenge in terms of ‘model[ling] and foster[ing] ethical congruence – the alignment of behaviour to values – and… inclin[ing] translation students to take morally imaginative actions not only towards expert translation but towards justice and human flourishing’. In ‘Translation, Ethics and Social Responsibility’, Drugan and Tipton (2017) argue that incorporating ethics and social responsibility means that the focus shifts outwards, beyond translation and interpreting providers themselves or translation studies as an academic discipline. They also point out that in the past twenty years there has been a shift away from deontology-oriented approaches to translator ethics towards what they call ‘differentiated approaches in which the whole communicative situation is brought to bear on decision-making’ (Drugan and Tipton, 2017: 122). Different situations require differentiated ethical approaches. In health communication, many of those situations take place in predetermined, routinized genres, such as the medical consultation, the informed consent or the health campaign. Genres are regulated by ethical principles which lead to highly relevant questions in crisis scenarios such as how we can communicate effectively in the right register and neutrally, respect professional codes and ensure that crucial messages are not lost.

LINGUISTIC VARIATION – GENRES AND THEIR ETHICAL DIMENSION Using the mother tongue of the patient or victim is a vital ethical principle in health communication and crisis situations. Linguistic diversity and the role of translation as risk reduction in multilingual crisis settings (Federici and O’Brien, 2020) have taken centre stage in the emerging field of crisis translation. In addition to this, how messages are created and circulated in different genres, registers, styles – that is, language variation or heteroglossia – is an important complementary area. If they are not appropriate, then ethical and effective communication can be at risk in both crisis and ordinary situations. The notion of genre allows us to focus on differentiated approaches and whole communicative situations, rather than just the text and the translator. Different genres embody different norms and values and have specific ethical priorities. For instance, when we analyze, write and translate genres used in scientific research, we can learn something about the scientific method and how it is reflected in the structure of the genre; or about the values that the scientists hold, such as social relevance, conceptual accuracy, methodological validity, or transparency and integrity in the communication and interpretation of results. All of them influence the composition and wording of texts in this genre. Likewise, when we study patient information leaflets (PILs), we may understand something about how health authorities try to ensure – but not necessarily achieve – that patients take the medicine in a safe and effective way. We can also learn about how patients read, understand and retain the most relevant information, or indeed fail to do so when the text is unclear or overcomplicated. In PILs, comprehensibility is at the service of safety and efficacy, which are the two core values in the ethos of

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the genre, and they shape the text as a whole and determine all sorts of choices at the micro-level. The same can be said about other genres, such as the IC, which will be discussed later in this chapter. Indeed, when studying genres from an ethical perspective, we can learn about their ethos and what really works as well as about what does not work, is unethical and should be improved. Thus, translators deal not only with the formal conventions of texts and their variations among genres but also with the ethical priorities of each one of them, which influence the choices they face. This view of genres can raise awareness of the ethical, cultural and communicative complexities, and help them to make reasoned decisions. One way of describing linguistic variation is precisely through the analysis of genres (Bazerman, 1988, 1994, 2003; Bhatia, 1993; García-Izquierdo, 2000; Swales, 1990) and their ethical dimensions. Any text in medicine and healthcare belongs to a more or less established, recognizable genre (Montalt and González, 2007). Some of them are more standardized (e.g. an original peer-reviewed article in a biomedical research journal), while others are more variable (e.g. patients’ narratives). Genres can be seen in terms of formal characteristics that must be observed when writing or translating texts so as to be recognized and accepted as correctly following the rules and expectations. However, at a deeper level a genre is ‘a kind of activity to be carried out in a recognizable textual space’, an activity embodying ‘relations with the readers and kinds of messages to be developed in order to carry out generically appropriate intentions and interactions – to complete the rhetorical and social possibilities of the genre’ (Bazerman, 1998: 24). Texts are embedded in contexts, and the notion of genre connects both. It also integrates the formal, cognitive and communicative dimensions of texts. Bazerman (1998) argues that each successful text creates for its readers a social fact, which consists of meaningful social actions being accomplished through language, or speech acts.1 A typical speech act in public health communication in the COVID-19 pandemic would be, for instance, ‘Avoid the 3Cs: spaces that are closed, crowded or involve close contact’ or ‘If you have been diagnosed with COVID-19, stay in a separate room and away from others’. A typical speech act in clinical communication would be ‘I voluntarily agree to be part of this research study’, as it is typically found in an IC form, or ‘I do not want life-sustaining treatment (including CPR) started’, an example of an advance directive in a living will. Genres do not exist in isolation. A given genre is related to, and can overlap with, other genres that occur in similar or related circumstances. For example, a PIL typically derives from another, more technical, genre – the summary of product characteristics (SPC). The coexistence and interdependence of genres in public health and in clinical communication give rise to genre systems (Bazerman, 1994; Montalt and González, 2007) and broader genre ecologies (Spinuzzi and Zachry, 2000), that is, the dense connections, interactions and interdependences among genres and between genres and the activities that they mediate. A genre ecology includes an interrelated group of genres used to jointly mediate the activities that allow people to accomplish complex objectives, such as stopping the transmission of a virus in a pandemic. The COVID-19 pandemic has brought to the fore genre ecologies in which various participants (institutions, individuals, NGOs) use genres, registers, styles, formats, modes and media to disseminate information, but also misinformation and disinformation, to make meaning in an attempt to influence the readers’ beliefs and behaviours, sometimes unethically or dishonestly. In the response phase of a pandemic, effective communication is of vital importance. Success in halting the spread of the disease and limiting its destructive

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impact on healthcare systems and populations depends on strategies developed to change the habits, behaviours and attitudes at the population level. The main aim in response is to save lives and, as we have learnt from the COVID-19 pandemic, to manage the ‘infodemic’ and reduce its impact on behaviours during health emergencies. The next phase is recovery, that is, the effort to return to normal life, which is completed by prevention. In the response phase, often connected with the recovery and prevention phases, many existing genres, both institutional and private, have been deployed to improvise solutions in public health communication: press conferences, statements of health organisations, executive orders, lay summaries of original articles, scientific editorials containing recommendations for policy, technical reports, news articles, frequently asked questions (FAQs), infographics, visual narratives, patients’ guides, health campaigns, statements of advocacy groups, or personal and group profiles in social networks, to mention just a few of the most visible ones. Public health policies are often first announced, and subsequently modified, in press conferences, in which regional, national or international governments and health authorities launch official information and answer questions from the media. Prior to this, a government or other organization may have issued a press release outlining the nature of the event. In public health campaigns, press conferences are a fundamental source of primary information, which is subsequently disseminated in other contexts and languages. When press conferences are broadcast live, in addition to the journalists attending and participating in them, the general public can also have access to the information directly. Press conferences may have synchronous translation into sign language. Governments use the law to enforce some of the restrictions they impose on the population. That is why legal genres, such as executive orders, are also mobilized and play an important role in public health communication. Once information has been distributed after an official press conference, it is recontextualized and reformulated in many ways. Infographics and visual narratives in the form of diagrams, animations and other visuals can be used to represent key concepts and narratives, such as how the coronavirus hijacks our cells, how it spreads across the globe or how it is transmitted through the air. In visual storytelling verbal language still has a role, but the main message is conveyed through images. Transforming abstract concepts into more concrete and comprehensible ones, making them accessible through different media and ensuring coherence between image and text are paramount in these multimodal genres. FAQs and information leaflets in prevention campaigns are routinely used by health authorities to spread relevant information. Audiovisual documentaries can also play a role in enhancing public understanding of the pandemic. After the initial outbreaks and as the COVID-19 pandemic grew, scientists across the globe started to study the virus in its multiple aspects, from transmission to immunity. Now as new research is published and transferred to other spheres of society, public health decisions and policies can more reliably be informed by research data. The concept of knowledge translation (KT)2 (Engebretsen, Henrischen and Ødemark, 2020) has become more prominent than ever. It underlines the fact that knowledge is constantly being transformed as new research is done and disseminated in a variety of ways. Press articles and social media reporting on new research have helped to spread research beyond journals and counterbalance fake news. Similarly, interviews with experts on TV, radio and the press have also been instrumental in providing relevant epidemiological and virological information, such as scientific predictions of new waves of the virus, the safety of vaccination or the possibility of transmission among vaccinated populations.

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COVID-19 has effectively laid bare the lack of preparedness in, and the predominantly monolingual approach to, public health communication, the complexity of genre ecologies in the public sphere and the dangers of the infodemic. In particular, social media pose immense challenges. The lessons already learnt and the ones we still need to learn should guide us to innovation, refinement and modernization in the field of multilingual communication. In the ‘overarching goal of leaving no one behind, preparedness means paying particular attention to vulnerable groups’ (Ottersen and Engebretsen, 2020: 1673), including cultural and linguistic minorities in multilingual contexts. Of special interest and ethical relevance are the dynamics and dysfunctions of diglossic contexts.

MULTILINGUALISM, DIGLOSSIA AND DIGLOSSIC GENRES Multilingualism can be used to refer both to individuals and to societies involving the use of different languages or language varieties. There are almost 7,000 languages in the world and about 200 independent countries. Few of them are either monolingual or mono-ethnic. Most countries, and their health systems, are multilingual and multicultural. Although my main interest here is the use of languages in society, and in particular in healthcare settings, how individual patients actively or passively use more than one language in a particular healthcare system is also relevant. In the context of a pandemic, multilingualism in societies is relevant on at least four levels. First, it exists globally in international communication in the provision of public health information: international health organizations, such as the World Health Organization, circulate pandemic data and warnings in several major languages; scientific information originally published in English in international research journals is then translated and recontextualized in multiple languages and countries. Second, multilingualism is present in well-established local or national communities, where two or more languages are used by many (or all) of their members. Third, globalization and the mobility of the population have increased multilingualism and the need to cater for it in healthcare. In today’s multiethnic and multilingual societies, intercultural and interlingual communication is proving to be essential. Finally, multilingualism also results from displacement caused by disasters of all sorts, such as climate crises, wars or poverty. In multilingual societies, not all languages enjoy the same status and prestige, and often one of them is dominant. This means that it is often used as a common language of preference in public information and communication processes. When other minoritized languages, such as those of migrants or indeed of well-established ethnic communities, are not used for specific public health functions and situations, we can refer to the resulting situation as diglossic. The term ‘diglossia’ is controversial and has been defined in different ways. It was first introduced by Ferguson (1959: 325) to refer to the fact that ‘[i]n many speech communities two or more varieties of the same language are used by some speakers under different conditions’. A situation in which two varieties, high ‘H’ and low ‘L’, are used in a complementary, ‘nonconflictual’ (Fishman, 1967: 29) way is diglossic. One of the most important features of diglossia is the specialization of function3 for H and L. H is used for formal functions in more public situations, such as education, administration or religion, whereas L is used in informal or colloquial communicative situations, such as in the family or among friends. For example, in Brazil there is an L-variant (Brazilian vernacular) and a H-variant (standard Brazilian Portuguese), which is acquired through

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schooling. Likewise, in the United States, general American English is considered H, while Afro-American Vernacular English is considered L. Fishman (1967: 30) expanded the concept of diglossia to include the hierarchal use of two or more languages in the same society as well as ‘separate dialects, registers or functionally differentiated language varieties of whatever kind’. For example, all the historical multilingual contexts in Spain can be defined as diglossia. In the Catalanspeaking area (the three Valencian provinces, the Balearic Islands and Catalunya) both Catalan and Spanish are used; both are official languages, and yet Spanish is dominant in the healthcare systems of these three Catalan-speaking autonomous regions. A similar diglossic situation is found both in the Basque-speaking areas of the north of Spain and in Galicia. In Peru, Paraguay and other Latin American countries, Spanish is considered H, while the indigenous languages are considered L. Another level of diglossia is found between Spanish as the H language and the languages of migrants in recent times in Spain, such as Arabic, Chinese or Romanian, which are L. The role of Spanish changes in other multilingual contexts where it is not a dominant language, such as in some areas in London nowadays, where many Latin American families have settled in the last decade or so. Owing to language barriers and the invisibility of the Latin American community in London, miscommunication and lack of communication have sometimes caused problems between medical professionals and patients. Lack of linguistic resources in Spanish during the COVID-19 pandemic led these London residents to source or confirm information from their home countries such as Colombia, Ecuador or Bolivia (López-Prieto, 2021), where Spanish is the dominant language used to disseminate information about the pandemic. The problem here is that the information that is relevant in one context (e.g. Bolivia) may not be relevant in another one (e.g. London). The pandemic has revealed the extent and problems of diglossia in healthcare systems, such as in Spain, where it is wrongly assumed that a monolingual strategy using only or mainly the dominant language in crucial public health genres is enough. In the case of the UK, the pandemic has also revealed that better cultural awareness and greater multilingual expertise and resources are needed to provide improved support for the large number of ethnic minorities. For example, ideas and behaviours about physical distancing, vaccination or wearing masks are complex issues that need nuanced approaches (Li Wei, 2021). Further research is needed to map those diglossic genres and genre ecologies and improve them interlingually and interculturally in different contexts. Diglossia is present not only in public health communication but also in clinical communication, where the interpersonal and relational aspect is pre-eminent and where patients understand information and participate in interaction best in their mother tongues. Hemberg and Sved (2019) studied a group of Swedish-speaking Finns whose mother tongue was Swedish (also an official language in Finland) and who had experience of hospital stays in southern Finland. They show that not being understood and not understanding can be considered suffering related to care particularly in cases in which patients may feel unsafe, sad, ashamed or alone. Researchers also show that language touches on a significant emotional dimension and helps preserve personal and linguistic identity. Their study also shows that patients felt vulnerable and that their autonomy had been compromised when their next of kin acted as language brokers; confidentiality had been breached. This can be especially problematic in the process of shared decisionmaking and IC.

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Research has shown that the more serious the illness, the more important it is for patients to be encouraged to express themselves in their mother tongue. Parkinson’s disease, depression, autism and dementia are of special interest because they can negatively affect speech. In these cases, a diglossic consultation can be particularly problematic. My personal experience in an encounter in Valencia (Spain) as a carer of my elderly father, then a patient with advanced Parkinson’s disease, is an example of the possible consequences of diglossia in healthcare. His language was a dialect of Catalan (L,) whereas his neurologist’s was Spanish (H). In this particular diglossic consultation, the consultant addressed him in H. My father then shifted to H, a language he understood but rarely used and in which he was not entirely fluent. His linguistic difficulties began to lead to misperceptions and misjudgements about the progression of the condition on the part of the neurologist until I made her aware of the situation. She then encouraged my father to continue in his native L. From that moment on, all the stammering and searching for words he experienced in H disappeared and with it any possibility of misjudgement of speech signs and symptoms, and consequently, of diagnosis and treatment. The encounter shifted to a successful bilingual interaction with the patient confidently speaking L and the consultant speaking H. When the concept of diglossia was first coined in 1959, it tended to be compartmentalized into fixed entities. Since then, we have come to realize that it is a more complex and fluid social phenomenon. It does not follow a fixed pattern. For example, the same language can be H in a public health context and L in another one at the same time. This can result in situations where crucial public health genres such as a government briefing or a health campaign are only carried out in H, marginalizing L individual speakers or whole communities, who become more vulnerable. In some diglossic consultations in multilingual healthcare settings, next of kin as a mediator can be problematic; in others it can be a solution. And the same goes for professional interpreters; they may be perceived as interfering between patient and doctor (Hemberg and Sved, 2019) or as facilitating or even improving communication between them in shared decision-making and consent processes (Pérez, 2019). The ethical dimension of IC as a fundamental genre both in healthcare and in clinical research, its pervasive nature in health communication and its consequences for translators and interpreters working in diglossic situations make it a good candidate for further inquiry.

THE ETHICAL DIMENSION OF IC The fundamental grammar of IC encompasses three basic elements (A, B and Y) and is as follows: for someone (A) to consent, A must be ‘an agent who has reached a certain level of maturity’ (Kleinig, 2010: 5). Although individual human beings constitute the basic subjects of consent, it may be given by ‘collective persons’ (e.g. shareholders of a company) or a collective unity (e.g. a choir, a football team). The agent to whom A consents (B) must also be a person or a group of persons. Before consent, B has no moral right or entitlement to do something, such as having sexual intercourse with A or performing a surgical operation on A. The third element is Y, a course of action for which A’s authorization, permission or agreement is required. Once A gives consent to B, the moral relations between A and B are transformed. Historically, the notion of consent has expanded since the Renaissance. Nowadays, mature relations are often assumed to be governed by a concept of personal flourishing framed by constraints prohibiting people from acting towards each other in ways that are

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detrimental to their interests, ‘especially those that are central to the pursuit of what they conceive to be their good’ (Kleinig, 2010: 3). In a crisis situation, the humanitarian sector’s ethos is assumed to be focused on acting towards the victims in favour of their own interests. Some very basic needs are assumed to be the absolute priority in the initial response phase, where chaos and destruction may dominate the scene and where time and resources may be very scarce. In these extreme situations, it is assumed, for instance, that lives must be saved; the injured must be assisted; the sick must be treated; the homeless must be given shelter and food; water and sanitation must be provided for those without them. There may be no time, or the patient may not have full consciousness and cognitive abilities, to obtain or give standard formal consent to medical treatment. Tacit, implied or assumed consent can be a solution, that is, consent when surrounding circumstances exist which would lead a reasonable person to believe that this consent had been given, although no direct, express or explicit signs or words of agreement had been uttered. However, it is also assumed that victims have the right to IC to medical treatment in a valid and meaningful way. For instance, Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) members ‘carry out their work with respect for the rules of medical ethics’ (https://www.msf-me.org/our-charter-and-principles). The MSF principles include a statement that their health professionals ‘respect patients’ autonomy, patient confidentiality and their right to informed consent’ (Kleinig, 2010). Consent to medical care is a fundamental ethical practice because it is the way by which patients autonomously authorize medical interventions or courses of treatment. This prerogative to control one’s medical destiny is elemental (Joffe and Truog, 2010). There are five aspects that establish the conditions for valid consent in doctor-patient relationships in standard clinical settings. First, patients must be free to make a decision without feeling under pressure. Second, they must be competent, that is, with full consciousness and cognitive abilities. Third, they must be made aware of the relevant facts, such as the nature and purpose of any procedure, its risks and potential benefits, and any alternative options. Fourth, they must be able to demonstrate their understanding of the disclosed facts. And finally, the patients must either authorize or decline the proposed course of treatment. Achieving a sufficient degree of understanding on the part of the patient requires the appropriate register both in the interaction and in the text, a crucial issue for interpreters and translators. Kleinig (2010: 16) defines a valid consent to a medical procedure as ‘described in adequate detail and in a language that is familiar to the patient; the costs and risks associated with the procedure need to be made clear and alternatives to the proposed procedure (where available) need to be noted, along with some indication of the prognosis’. Thus, disclosure is not enough. Uninformed and ill-informed patients, and patients who are not informed in a language familiar to them, cannot consent in a valid way. To capture the ethical complexities of informed consent we need the bigger picture. The relationship between patient and health professional is fiduciary in nature. A fiduciary is a person who holds something in trust, a trustee (Oxford English Dictionary). Examples of fiduciary relationships include a lawyer to a client, a spouse to another spouse, a trustee to trust beneficiaries, an executor of a will to the will beneficiaries, an accountant to a client, a corporation director to the corporation and the shareholders, or a doctor to a patient. Rodwin (1995) defines the fiduciary relationships in terms of a person entrusted with power or property to be used for the benefit of another and legally held to the highest standard of conduct. Fiduciaries advise and represent others and manage their

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affairs. Usually, they have specialized knowledge or expertise, and their work requires judgement and discretion. Often the party that the fiduciary serves cannot effectively monitor the fiduciary’s performance. The fiduciary relationship is based on dependence, reliance and trust. The same fiduciary metaphor that has traditionally been applied to define the patientdoctor relationship can also depict that between respondent and victim in a crisis situation. The respondent is a person entrusted to act for the benefit of the victim to the highest standards of conduct. The fiduciary relationship can also describe part of what happens in ethical terms in IC between the translator or interpreter as entrusted agents of interlingual and intercultural communication, on the one hand, and both the patient and the health professional as beneficiaries, on the other hand. This will be discussed in the next section. Patients rarely insist on their rights to make their own decisions and indeed often voluntarily give them up and prefer a lesser decision-making role. Joffe and Truog (2010) wonder whether assumptions by patients about the duty of physicians to promote patients’ best interests, rooted in patients’ expectations about the fiduciary nature of the relationship, help explain why so many are so willing to delegate responsibility for medical decisions to their doctors. IC should act as a constraint on the power of physicians; this is something that patients seldom realize. According to Joffe and Truog (2010), there are two important questions: Should ethics and policy seek to educate and exhort patients to assume, and physicians to encourage, greater patient responsibility for medical decisions? Or, considering the psychological realities of illness and the nature of the physicianpatient relationship, is current practice normatively defensible? For translators and interpreters, other ethical questions may be relevant: Who should take the initiative? The doctor? The patient? The communication expert, that is, the translator/interpreter? Should the translator/interpreter promote awareness of IC? Should they contribute and make sure that IC is fulfilled adequately? So far, I have considered the rationale of IC and suggested some questions for further discussion and research. The gap between theory and practice in this area is immense, persistent and widespread in different countries and healthcare systems. In crisis scenarios, logistical, psychological and social realities mean that this gap is even bigger and more variable. For example, in some countries antibiotics cannot be bought without a medical prescription but in a crisis such as a pandemic, the population is urged to accept vaccination without the prescription of a doctor and seemingly anyone being held to account for any possible adverse effects. In Australia, however, health authorities proceed as with any other vaccines, where informed consent is needed before each dose: they facilitate guidance to those administering the vaccines to gain consent for COVID-19 vaccination and to answer frequently asked questions. In practice IC varies not only from country to country (each society has different expectations and standards with regard to consent) but also from one institution or even clinician to another. Tunzi, Satin and Day (2021) contend that currently the way IC is obtained is not only inconsistent but also inadequate. One of the problems physicians struggle with is the immense diversity of patients’ profiles and backgrounds. Determining what a ‘standard patient’ is and how to provide the adequate information can be problematic. Information given to patients may be too abstract and technical or lack sufficient detail. Another issue is that many patients assume that health professionals are honest and will do their best. Equally problematic is the fact that many clinicians may choose not to identify when an interaction calls for consent. Sometimes IC is not practised in situations where it is necessary because of indirect risks, and conversely it is

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used in situations where it is not needed. Lack of time is another limitation. Sometimes signing forms can have a negative impact on the quality of the dialogue needed. These are some of the limitations Tunzi, Satin and Day (2021) present in their critique of current IC practices. Another limitation in multilingual contexts is the lack of material and human resources to ensure that the patient’s mother tongue and cultural values are taken into account in the process of consent. In addition to the need for linguistic and cultural mediation, crisis scenarios pose challenges that need to be taken on board so that a new model of consent can be as linguistically and culturally inclusive as possible. In ‘The Consent Continuum: A New Model of Consent, Assent, and Nondissent for Primary Care’, Tunzi, Satin and Day (2021) propose an alternative method to the standard one. These authors distinguish between traditional informed consent, which should be reserved for interventions that are medium to high risk, physiologically invasive or nonroutine; assent, meant for low to medium risk; and finally, nondissent, for low risk and very routine interventions. In IC, patients are encouraged to ask questions and demonstrate (teach back) their understanding. Only then will they be asked to sign a consent form. Both in assent and nondissent, the authors also provide, and encourage the use and recognition of, linguistic cues and gestures that capture the social interaction and relationship aspect of this complex genre as an act of communication. This flexible, innovative and yet doctor-centred approach to consent in primary care is not complete, as the authors point out, and needs to be evaluated and further developed and refined. Perhaps patients and translators/interpreters, in particular, those working in crisis situations, should be involved in this task alongside doctors to allow for a wider, all-inclusive perspective.

THE SEMIOTIC, INTERACTIONAL AND TRANSLATIONAL DIMENSIONS OF IC According to Kleinig (2010), there is always what he calls an ‘expressive dimension’ to consent; that is, it must be signified. No matter how informally and minimally it may occur in a doctor-patient oral interaction, such as when asking for consent for a physical examination in the consultation, it must be signified. And only if consent takes the form of a sign in a communicative act can the moral relations between A and B be transformed. Kleinig underlines that for a consent to be a communicative act, a good deal of attention is paid to its form or morphe: ‘The form taken by the act of consent may vary considerably, though it will commonly be constituted by some gesture, word, or other recordable behavior that conventionally and contextually expresses it’ (Kleinig, 2010: 11). This crucial semiotic dimension can be problematic. Within the same culture and language, silence, for example, can sometimes indicate abstention, acquiescence and lack of interest as well as consent. When mediating between languages and cultures, the meaning of silence and other gestures and forms of non-verbal and verbal behaviour becomes far more complex. Jan Marta’s article ‘A Linguistic Model of Informed Consent’ (1996) can illuminate some of the fundamental verbal and interactional aspects of IC. Her critique of dominant models of the IC document is based on the fact that it goes beyond medico-legal validity and that in all of those models, language is assumed to be a non-factor in itself, and that the emotional, interdependent and socio-cultural aspects of communication are ignored (Marta, 1996: 43). The problem of what Marta calls a ‘hollow consent’, one that lacks

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meaning for those involved, even while having medico-legal validity, has been largely ignored. Her proposal draws on knowledge gained from the fields of philosophy of language, linguistics and literary theory of discourse. For her, IC is a language act and a semiotic and pragmatic process of signification. Her exploration of IC as a speech act, as a communication act and as a form of dialogue is undoubtedly inspiring for translators and interpreters. Following Austin (1962), Marta (1996) defines IC as a performative speech act, the most explicit form or morphe being the patient’s utterance ‘I consent’. The doctor’s implied ‘I inform’ is not only an expositive illocutionary speech act; in informing, one provides an exposition about a subject, but at the same time, it is a perlocutionary speech act since it has consequences on the feelings, thoughts or actions of the listener (Marta, 1996: 47). According to this author, to understand IC as a performative speech act is to emphasize the interdependence of patient and physician, and to acknowledge a bivalent notion of responsibility. That is, A informs B of A’s consent and B must consent to enact A’s decision. From the angle of communication, in a process of shared decision-making leading to consent, doctor and patient alternate the roles of senders and receivers of messages: the patient receives the information about the course of action from the doctor, and at the same time, sends her decision to the doctor. Their roles are interconnected and interdependent. A translator or interpreter involved in IC re-presents the doctor and the patient simultaneously in the target text. This representative function of translators is linked to the fiduciary context mentioned above and has also been pointed out recently in the field of user-centred translation: ‘Translators are the user’s representatives, and as members of design teams, translators can help to create a full user experience’ (Suojanen et al., 2015: 13). The factual explanations about the proposed treatment, the presentation of risks or the alternative treatments offered by the doctor are in fact presented again in the target language. Likewise, the final speech acts of the patient (‘I have read’, ‘I have understood’, ‘I agree’ etc.) are re-worded in the target language by the translator. Translators have specialized knowledge or expertise, not only about the factual content of the text but also about languages, cultures and the way different healthcare systems work. Their work requires judgement and discretion. And often neither the patient nor the health professional can effectively and fully monitor the translator/interpreter’s performance. There is no doubt that both patient and doctor rely on the translator/interpreter and entrust themselves to them, either through face-to-face interaction or through or a written document. In the case of translators/interpreters as fiduciaries, decisions about translation/interpreting are not discussed in a shared decision-making process with either doctors or patients. The question of whose interests translators/interpreters should promote in IC needs to be ethically framed in the fiduciary relationship in which the patients’ best interests must be promoted by doctors. The notions of neutrality, detachment or non-involvement are problematic both in written texts and face-to-face interactions. In the ethos of IC, disclosure of relevant information is necessary but not sufficient; understanding must be ensured in a meaningful, culturally relevant and empathetic way, that is, in a patient-centred way. And it is in the area of understanding that translators and interpreters need to analyse the text and the situation and make choices which are ethically framed and coherent. This demand on translators/interpreters is non-trivial in ‘normal’ medical situations, but when pressures such as time, trauma, uncertainty and chaos that are typical of crises are added, this presents a very challenging environment for adequate consideration of ethical challenges.

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It is worth noting that in a crisis setting, professional translators and interpreters may be limited or unavailable given that they too might be affected by the crisis. This exacerbates the problem of interpreting being provided by family members, who are very unlikely to be informed in ethical issues of informed consent. The values, expectations, procedures and law regarding IC vary widely across health and legal systems, cultures and countries. It is impossible to make universally valid generalizations about it as a genre or about how precisely translators and interpreters are involved in it. What can be said is that they often work in the standard client-focused, brief-based framework in which patients are seldom the initiators of translations. In healthcare settings, it is normally the health authorities in hospitals and other centres that are responsible for providing translation and interpreting services when needed. In the case of biomedical research, the translation of IC is promoted by the companies responsible for clinical trials. In theory, IC should not only have medico-legal validity; it should also be truly meaningful to the patient. In the practice of translation of IC, the medico-legal dimension, and often its defensive role, takes centre stage and the ethical, cognitive and affective dimensions tend to vanish. In many healthcare contexts, signing a consent form is considered a mere formality prior to surgery or tests. Most IC documents tend to lack transparency, contain too much technical terminology and be depersonalized, focusing on the medical dimension and leaving aside the emotional dimension. That is why in the case of foreign patients, interpreters’ mediation can involve improvements so that the informed consent process is carried out successfully (Pérez, 2019). From the perspective of the interpreter, IC is mainly seen as a communication process in which the patient resolves any lingering doubts with her doctor in the consultation. In practice, however, when translations are not available, interpreters often have to sight-translate the printed document, generally written in a specialized register which is not geared to the needs of patients (Pérez, 2019). As in this case, in numerous clinical settings written IC has become a diglossic genre. Research has shown the benefits of interpreters being involved in IC processes (Pérez, 2018). Thanks to their mediation, foreign patients may be at an advantage when compared with native speakers. The role of the interpreter is no longer limited to acting as a bridge or conduit: ‘It is the interpreter who makes up for the patients’ lack of understanding and becomes part of a mediation process that should have been promoted by the health professional in both monolingual and bilingual contexts [in the first place]’ (Pérez, 2018: 87). The interpreters positioning themselves in that way can be described as patient navigators (Crezee and Roat, 2019). In this challenging context, Pérez (2018: 87) warns that ‘[i]t is therefore of the utmost importance to distinguish which tasks are the interpreter’s and which tasks are extra work, such as obtaining a patient’s consent, even if the interpreter is a participant or collaborator in the process’. Thanks to their immediate contact with the context and the participants, interpreters often enjoy a privileged position to observe what really happens in an IC process. In the conclusions to her study, Pérez states that ‘in practice, consents are mostly signed blindly in this context and the patient usually feels obliged to sign it, even if he or she does not understand the entire document, so that the proposed intervention or treatment can be carried out’ (2018: 88). Thus, many patients sign the IC form as if they had a veil that does not allow them to see the content clearly, despite the efforts of interpreters to mediate not only between two languages and cultures but also between expert and nonexpert registers.

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Translators look at IC from a product perspective. According to Gallego (2019), a professional translator specializing in IC for clinical research, the translation process in many cases lowers the quality of the text, in part because of the demands of clients who prioritize literalness over readability and comprehension. The objections raised by ethics committees to terminological, stylistic and cultural issues in translation of IC are proof of this lack of quality (Gallego, 2015a). Clinical Research Ethics Committees (RECs) scrutinize IC forms in their assessment of clinical trials, checking that they comply with all the provisions of the law, bioethical principles and standards of good clinical practice. In his quality analysis of English-Spanish translations of IC documents, Gallego (2015b) provides numerous examples of sentences that should be improved, such as ‘firmando este documento no renuncio… (by signing this form, I do not waive…)’. For this target text, he proposes a better alternative wording which apparently sounds more natural: ‘la firma del presente documento no implica… (the signature of this document does not imply…)’. This is an example of a speech act being reformulated in such a way that the agency of the patient is lost in the stylistically improved version. From an IC speech act perspective this is problematic because the patient literally disappears. Stylistic and register criteria and solutions are compatible with the agency of the patient, which should be ensured. They can and should be re-examined in the light of the ethical principles and interactional forces at work in this genre. Gallego (2019) argues that the ideal solution would be that IC documents were not translated, but that a new text was drafted, in the mother tongue of the patients, by the hospitals or the companies managing the trials in a given country. This would provide a document originating from the same legal and cultural framework in which the patient is immersed, rather than a document originating from a foreign cultural reality. However, he points out that such a solution is beyond the competence of translators. Gallego (2015a) concludes that translators who deal with these documents must not only have a perfect command of the source language and respect what he calls ‘the golden rules of translation’ (say everything that the original says, say nothing that the original does not say and say everything as correctly and naturally as the target language allows) but must also possess a high degree of specialization and be familiar with the reality of clinical research and the legal-administrative framework in which it is carried out, in order to be able to express their concepts fluently and naturally. He also emphasizes the idea that the quality of the translation of IC, as well as the professional and deontological responsibility of the translator, constitutes an ethical duty towards the patients (Gallego, 2015b). It is precisely these aspects in the interface between ethics and linguistic quality that need to be addressed in detail. IC poses ethical questions and uncertainties. What happens when a translator knows that the target language chosen for the translation does not really match the linguistic needs of the target audience, that is, in cases where the target language should be a different one owing to a diglossic situation? What happens when the source text is not sufficiently comprehensible for most patients in the source language? Is it ethical to knowingly produce a translation which will be incomprehensible for most of the target readers? Should a translator write her translation in a way that is more comprehensible for her target readers? What happens when the register and style of the text do not match what can be expected from a patient uttering the sentences in the first person singular, such as ‘I also authorise my surgeon to provide or arrange for the provision of additional services, as necessary or advisable, including, but not limited to, pathology and radiology services’? Is it ethical to phrase it in a way that a patient would never use

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FIGURE 1.1  Sample text from an Informed Consent Form.

and thus turn the patient in the target language into a sort of ventriloquist into whose mouth the institution has put the words, and indeed the agenda, of the surgeon? Should the translator phrase the same information in a more patient-centred way in the target language? Or what happens when the translator has to translate sentences such as ‘The surgeon or an attending designee will be present for all the critical parts of the procedure/ surgery. The surgeon may be out of the operating room for some or all of the surgical tasks done by residents if the surgeon decides it is safe to do so?’ Should the translator proceed to just translate and limit herself to producing an equivalent text in the target language? Or should she intervene to point out that the patient in the target language may not agree with these conditions? This possibly raises another interesting ethical challenge: if the patient decides not to consent to part of an IC on the basis of the T/I’s intervention and the medical expert then decides she cannot proceed with the procedure and there are negative health outcomes. These last questions are especially problematic when this is what the last part of the IC contains: What happens in a crisis situation regarding informed consent? How do interpreters and translators position themselves when IC may be difficult to obtain in an ethical way?

FINAL REMARKS Beyond the supposedly straightforward rules of a ‘good’ translation in the standard, client-centred marketplace, translators and interpreters may face ethical dilemmas when working in crisis health communication. They must deal with several layers of ethics, including professional, medical and humanitarian codes, which may not be always in alignment. This complex framework requires them to shift their focus to a much broader context of ethics and social responsibility which involves understanding the complexities of the interpersonal dimension and the deep links between language and values. To be able to recognize and explore ethical issues in crisis situations, the notion of genre can be helpful, together with ethical values in the translation profession and the humanitarian sector. Each medical genre has its own ethical priorities and can provide differentiated and more nuanced approaches to ethics beyond abstract, decontextualized, deontological codes. When standard genres, such as the IC or the consultation, are used in crisis situations, new challenges may arise for which there is no easy, indisputable solution; responsibility – and perhaps risks – must be taken. As Derrida (2003: 31–2) says, ‘Ethics starts when you don’t know what to do, when there is a gap between knowledge

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and action, and you have to take responsibility for inventing the new rule which doesn’t exist… An ethics with guarantees is not an ethics …. Ethics is dangerous.’ The COVID-19 pandemic brought unprecedented ethical challenges in both clinical and public health communication for which new thinking was required. Washbourne (2013: 35) argues that ‘whether we speak of situated cognition (Risku, 2002, translation in situation (Vienne, 1994), or problem-based learning (Inoue, 2005), a task or concept model is inauthentic if it ignores the ethical dimension’. This is relevant in health communication and more so when it takes place in crisis situations. Of particular interest is the IC owing to its ethical complexity, linguistic and cultural variability, and multimodality. In addition to a grounding in legal and administrative issues, translators and interpreters in this particular genre need ethical literacy, that is, ‘the use of theory, metaethical vocabulary, and decision frameworks, and an understanding of ethical evaluative criteria and their implications’ (Washbourne, 2013: 35). More work is needed in translator and interpreter education to include an ethical dimension in competence models and in actual teaching. Courses that purport to teach health translation and interpreting in crisis situations should contain ethical reasoning in connection with the relevant genres. I have zoomed in on IC as an example of a genre realized in diglossic multilingual contexts, but other diglossic genres used in health communication can offer further insights and challenges for T/Is. When we widen our angle of vision beyond individual genres, we find large genre ecologies and complex KT processes. In the study of multilingual communication in public health crises, it is imperative to understand the fluid, entangled, messy conglomerate of genre ecologies in which people struggle to access information and make sense of it. In addition to the provision of services to cater for language diversity and heteroglossia, being aware of genre, register and stylistic variations and inadequacies, and of how genres work in public communication can contribute to more effective and ethical messaging. In this context, relevant research questions are: What information do we need to circulate? Which genres do we need to circulate it? In which languages should the information be circulated? In which registers? If we retain focus on crisis situations, the pressing questions are: (1) How do we anticipate the needs, when crises can be (somewhat) unexpected? (2) How do the ethical challenges change when we are thinking about T/Is in crisis settings; how might we address this issue? The challenges are significant in normal settings but seem to be even bigger in a crisis (emergency action required, chaos and uncertainty reign, and there may be a shortage of professional T/Is and especially of those trained in ethics. And finally, (3) how does the global dimension of the pandemic impact on the ethical challenges faced by the T/Is? KT is crucial in clinical communication (Montalt, 2020) and is becoming particularly relevant in global public health. Research is needed to identify how knowledge is generated, distributed and transformed by means of the multiple genres involved, and how the tensions between diglossia and heteroglossia affect knowledge creation, translation and communication. Bakhtin’s view of heteroglossia (1981) relates differences in linguistic form to differences in worldviews and can have individual, social, cultural and ideological significance. These are crucial aspects in any approach to the study of global health communication. The pandemic has brought home to us all how important communication is and how we need to improve it both globally and locally. In the context of global crises, languages can be harnessed to influence values, attitudes and behaviour in individuals and in societies at large so that we are able to respond ethically and effectively to the challenges ahead.

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NOTES 1. Speech act theory is particularly associated with the work of the philosopher J. L. Austin and his student J. R. Searle. Austin established three categories of speech acts: locutionary acts, which are acts of uttering words; illocutionary acts, which are acts performed in saying something, such as giving orders, promising, swearing or warning; and perlocutionary acts, which are the effects on the addressee or acts performed as a result of saying something, such as authorising, entrusting, frightening or persuading. 2. Also called knowledge to action, dissemination or knowledge transfer. 3. In addition to function, Ferguson also uses aspects such as prestige, literary heritage, acquisition, standardization, stability, grammar, lexicon or phonology to characterize diglossia.

REFERENCES Austin, J. L. (1962). How to Do Things with Words. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Bakhtin, M. M. (1981). The Dialogic Imagination: Four Essays. Austin, TX: University of Texas Press. Bhatia, V. K. (1993). Analysing Genre: Language Use in Professional Settings. London: Longman. Bazerman, C. (1988). Shaping Written Knowledge: The Genre and Activity of the Experimental Article in Science. Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press. Bazerman, C. (1994). ‘Systems of genres and the enactment of social intentions’. In A. Freedman and P. Medway (eds), Genre in the New Rhetoric, 79–101. London: Routledge. Bazerman, C. (1998). ‘Emerging perspectives on the many dimensions of scientific discourse’. In J. R. Martin and R. Veel (eds), Reading Science. Critical and Functional Approaches on Discourses of Science. London and New York: Routledge. Bazerman, C. (2003). ‘Speech acts, genres, and activity systems: How texts organize activity and people’. In What Writing Does and How It Does It, 315–46. London: Routledge. Caza, A., Barker, B. A. and Cameron, K. S. (2004). ‘Ethics and ethos: The buffering and amplifying effects of ethical behavior and virtuousness’. Journal of Business Ethics 52(2): 169–78. Crezee, I. H. and Roat, C. E. (2019). ‘Bilingual patient navigator or healthcare interpreter: What’s the difference and why does it matter?’ Cogent Medicine 6(1): 181087776. Derrida, J. (2003). ‘Following theory’. In M. Payne and J. Schad (eds), Life After Theory, 1–51. London: Continuum. Drugan, J. and Tipton, R. (2017). ‘Translation, ethics and social responsibility’. The Translator 23(2): 119–25. Engebretsen, E., Henrischen, G. F. and Ødemark, J. (2020). Towards a translational medical humanities: Introducing the cultural crossings of care. Medical Humanities 46(2): e2. Federici, F. M. and O’Brien, S. (eds) (2020). Translation in Cascading Crises. Abingdon and New York: Routledge. Ferguson, C. (1959). ‘Diglossia’. Word 15: 325–40. Fishman, J. A. (1967). ‘Bilingualism with and without Diglossia: Diglossia with and without bilingualism’. Journal of Social Issues 23(2): 29–38. Gallego Borghini, L. (2015a). ‘Objeciones planteadas por los comités éticos a las traducciones de los documentos de consentimiento informado en investigación clínica: análisis e

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implicaciones para el trabajo del traductor [Objections raised by ethical committees to translations of informed consent documents in clinical research: Analysis and implications for the translator’s work]’. Revista de Bioética y Derecho 33: 14–27. Gallego Borghini, L. (2015b). La traducción inglés-español del consentimiento informado en investigación clínica [The English-Spanish Translation of Informed Consent in Clinical Research]. Barcelona: Fundación Dr. Antoni Esteve. Gallego Borghini, L. (2019). Unpublished interview in a session held on 13th of December 2019 at the research seminar Diálogos sobre la humanización de la atención sanitaria y la mejora del consentimiento informado. Universitat Jaume I. García-Izquierdo, I. (2000). Análisis textual aplicado a la traducción [Textual Analysis Applied to Translation]. Valencia: Tirant lo Blanch. Hatim, B. and Mason, I. (1997). The Translator as Communicator. London: Routledge. Health Collaborative. (2018). ‘Advocacy and medical interpreters’. Available online: https:// healthcollab.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/02/Advocacy-and-Medical-Interpreters.pdf (accessed 16 July 2021). Hemberg, J. and Sved, E. (2019). ‘The significance of communication and care in one’s mother tongue: Patients’ views’. Nordic Journal of Nursing Research 41(1): 42–53. Joffe, S. and Truog, R. D. (2010). ‘Consent to medical care: The importance of fiduciary context’. In F.G. Miller and A. Wertheimer (eds), The Ethics of Consent: Theory and Practice, 347–73. New York: Oxford University Press. Kleinig, J. (2010). ‘The nature of consent’. In F. G. Miller and A. Wertheimer (eds), The Ethics of Consent: Theory and Practice, 3–24. New York: Oxford University Press. López-Prieto, C. (2021). ‘Language barrier in schools for multilingual communities in London’. Unpublished paper delivered at Open for Discussion – Languages and the Pandemic: Public Health Engagement with Multilingual Communities in the UK, 27 April. Available online: https://www.sas.ac.uk/videos-and-podcasts/culture-language-and-literature/open-discussionlanguages-and-pandemic-public (accessed 16 July 2021). Marta, J. (1996). ‘A Linguistic model of informed consent’. The Journal of Medicine and Philosophy: A Forum for Bioethics and Philosophy of Medicine 21: 41–60. Montalt, V. (2020). ‘Medical translation in crisis situations’. In F. M. Federici and C. Declercq (eds), Intercultural Crisis Communication: Translation, Interpreting and Languages in Local Crises, 105–26. London: Bloomsbury Academic. Montalt, V. and Gonzalez Davies, M. (2007). Medical Translation Step by Step. Learning by Drafting. Manchester: St. Jerome Publishing. Ottersen, O. P. and Engebretsen, E. (2020). ‘COVID-19 puts the sustainable development goals center stage’. Nature Medicine 26(11): 1672–3. Pérez Estevan, E. (2018). ‘La traducción y comunicación del consentimiento informado como medida para garantizar su comprensibilidad [The translation and communication of informed consent as a measure to guarantee its comprehensibility]’. In V. Montalt, K. Zethsen and W. Karwacka (eds), Retos actuales y tendencias emergentes en traducción médica/Current challenges and emerging trends in medical translation, Special Issue MonTI, 10, 75–91. Pérez Estevan, E. (2019). Unpublished interview in a session held on 13th of December 2019 at the research seminar Diálogos sobre la humanización de la atención sanitaria y la mejora del consentimiento informado, Universitat Jaume I. Rodwin, M. A. (1995). ‘Strains in the fiduciary metaphor: Divided physician loyalties and obligations in a changing health care system’. American Journal of Law and Medicine 21(2–3): 241–57.

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Spinuzzi, C. and Zachry, M. (2000). ‘Genre ecologies: An open-system approach to understanding and constructing documentation’. Journal of Computer Documentation 24(3): 169–81. Swales, J. (1990). Genre Analysis: English in Academic and Research Settings. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Tunzi, M., Satin, D. J. and Day, P. G. (2021). ‘The consent continuum: A new model of consent, assent, and nondissent for primary care’. Hastings Center Report 51(2): 33–40. Washbourne, K. (2013). ‘Ethical experts-in-training: Connected land the moral imagination’. In D. Kiraly, S. Hansen-Schirra and K. Maksymski (eds), New Prospects and Perspectives for Educating Language Mediators, 35–55. Translations-Wissenschaft, 10. Tübingen: Narr Verlag. Wei, Li. (2021). ‘Impact of COVID-19 on the welfare of ethnic communities and minorities and on education of bilingual children during school closures in the UK’. Unpublished paper delivered at Open for Discussion – Languages and the Pandemic: Public Health Engagement with Multilingual Communities in the UK, 27 April. Available online: https://www.sas. ac.uk/videos-and-podcasts/culture-language-and-literature/open-discussion-languages-andpandemic-public (accessed 16 July 2021).

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CHAPTER TWO

Extending the Value of Crisis Translation in Crisis Communication TIMOTHY W. COOMBS AND ELINA R. TACHKOVA

INTRODUCTION In strategic communication, communicators focus on a few segments that are relative to their objectives. For instance, promotion of sporting events might focus on local families and fans of the sport. Cascading crises create a demand to reach all segments of a population. We can think of a cascading crisis as a series of disruptive events. Disasters and public health crises, for instance, can become cascading crises (Federici and O’Brien, 2020). A crisis manager cannot just use social media platforms and traditional media as the only means of conveying warnings about a flood and/or infectious disease. Yes, the crisis managers will reach a larger percentage of the target population, but the goal will be to reach everyone. Every population has remote segments, those groups that are difficult to reach with a message. Language differences, access to technology and geographic remoteness are just some of the factors that create remote segments. Typically, these remote segments tend to be composed of marginalized groups as well because remote segments tend to lack the power to be heard (Burton and Ovadiya, 2014). Translation is a critical concern during cascading crises. Typically, crisis managers overlook the importance of and need to consider translation during a cascading crisis (O’Brien and Federici, 2019). Overlooking translation can amplify the impact of crises upon marginalized groups (Alexander and Pescaroli, 2019). Alexander and Pescaroli (2019) are among the disaster risk reduction experts who consider the value of translation during communication in cascading crises. They noted the need to address the challenges of how to translate information and how to disseminate information during a cascading crisis. We would add a third challenge: how to create the necessary information. During a cascading crisis, the critical information centres on risk communication, the ‘process of exchanging information among interested parties about the nature, magnitude, significance, or control of a risk’ (Covello, 1992: 359–73). Cascading crises create the need to understand the perceptions of risks, to assess the needs of people at risk and to communicate a variety of information about the crisis that relates to risk. Crisis managers must create the risk messages that will help their audiences prepare for, react to and recover from a cascading crisis. Crisis managers must create

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the crisis risk message before the demands for translation and dissemination occur. We will focus on how translation relates to risk communication efforts designed to reach remote segments during a cascading crisis. The first section of this chapter addresses concerns related to creating crisis risk messages. The second section shifts to consider dissemination of the risk messages to remote segments and how translation is treated in that literature. The third section integrates key ideas from risk communication into the translation process for cascading crises.

THE CREATION OF RISK MESSAGES: ANXIETY AND THE EXTENDED PARALLEL PROCESS MODEL The creation of risk messages is the starting point for this chapter. The risk messages must be created before they are translated and disseminated to remote segments. Alexander and Pescaroli (2019) have recognized the link between risk communication and translation: a ‘lack of adequate translation and cultural mediation could result in failing adequately to explain the characteristics of the risk, its seriousness and the measures required’ (152). But what are the key ideas of risk communication that are important for translators to understand? Two extremely helpful aspects of risk communication message creation are the effects of anxiety on message processing and the value of the Extended Parallel Process Model (EPPM) for creating risk messages. Crises create anxiety and anxiety reduces a person’s ability to process information. That means communicators must keep the risk messages simple during a crisis to facilitate an accurate interpretation of the messages by the target audiences. EPPM provides a systematic way of approaching risk communication that helps communicators to develop messages that increase target audience compliance with the desired response to the crisis – to follow their advice on what to do in response to the crisis (Witte, 1994). We begin by examining the relevance of anxiety to cascading crises, its effects on information processing and implications for risk message creation. This is followed by an explanation of EPPM and how it can guide the creation of risk messages.

CASCADING CRISES AND ANXIETY Cascading crises are unique because of their negative effects that are felt far beyond the initial crisis event. Whether triggered by natural hazards or man-made, the initial crisis event creates a domino effect of damage across a system. COVID-19 is a recent example of a cascading crisis. COVID-19 created a pandemic, meaning it was a global public health crisis. But the effects went far beyond health concerns for individuals affected by the virus. COVID-19 impacted the entire healthcare system, resulting in people suffering from other disease not being able to receive proper treatment or testing due to stretched resources and efforts to prevent the spread of the virus. The economic toll on individuals and industries was profound. Some industries, such as the cruise industry, could not operate. Other industries operated at reduced capacity or had to utilize alternative models for delivering goods and services. Various societies around the globe experienced protests and other disruptions that were directly or indirectly related to the virus. COVID-19 demonstrates the domino effect of negative consequences that define a cascading crisis. Crises create perceptions of harm and uncertainty, both of which help to promote anxiety. All crises have the potential to generate the emotion of anxiety because crises create the uncertainty that can drive anxiety (Jin, 2010). Anxiety is defined as ‘an aversive

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motivational state that occurs in situations in which level of perceived threat to the individual is high’ (Derakshan and Eysenck, 2009: 168). Crises are information vacuums that demand the collection of additional information. Something has happened, but the exact nature of the situation is unclear until enough information has been collected to create some clarity (O’Reilly et al., 2011). Lazarus (1991), from a cognitive appraisal perspective, argued that anxiety is created by threats or when people face danger. People may feel susceptible to the harms a crisis is producing while simultaneously being uncertain about the exact nature of the crisis situation. The end result is the strong potential of crises to generate anxiety. Research using the integrated crisis mapping (ICM) model sought to develop a greater understanding of the emotions evoked by an array of crisis types (Jin, Pang and Cameron, 2007). The ICM uses organizational engagement and public coping strategies to place crisis types into four quadrants. Organizational engagement ranges from high to low, while public coping strategies range from conative (focus on taking action) to cognitive (focus on making sense of the situation) (Jin, Pang and Cameron, 2007). Later tests identified the various negative emotions that emerged in each of the four quadrants. Anxiety emerged as the dominant emotion linked with crises. Jin, Pang and Cameron (2012) posited that in a crisis, ‘[a]nxiety could even be argued as the default dominant emotion’ (286). The anxiety was a result of crises creating situations marked by a danger and uncertainty (Jin, 2010). Anxiety emerged because people felt the threat could affect them or others and was a potential threat to survival (Jin, Pang and Cameron, 2012). Cascading crises are mechanisms for creating anxiety because of the chain of negative events that can be triggered and the uncertainty surrounding the actual ripple effects from the initial crisis event. The potential for anxiety increases because the scale of the uncertainty and threats are intensified. Consider how the Zika virus, a public health crisis, generated high levels of uncertainty and anxiety (Avery, 2017; Blakey and Abramowitz, 2017). The anxiety generated by cascading crises is significant to crisis communication and translation because of its effect on message processing. Crises are characterized by uncertainty, which can in turn lead to anxiety and stress. High anxiety and stress have negative effects on people’s cognitive abilities. Cognition is best described as information processing, that is, conceptualizing, knowing or recognizing information from different sources (Robinson et al., 2013). Adequate processing of information increases people’s ability to react in different situations, as well as their adaptive strength. High anxiety can affect cognition processes by causing negative thoughts. These thoughts and ruminations occupy a person’s working memory resources which are needed to perform a certain task. Therefore, anxiety arousal can lead to poor performance (Maloney, Sattizahn and Beilock, 2014). This has implications for risk and crisis communication because communicative efforts should be able to accommodate a person’s reduced information processing ability caused by their anxiety (Rai et al., 2011). The key in crisis situations, therefore, is to provide risk messages that are simple and easy to understand. People must be able to understand a risk message if they are to then act properly on that message. Specifically, Covello (2006), a leading expert in crisis communication, argues for the need to provide short, simple and easy-to-process messages during crises and proposes message mapping as a strategic tool to communicate effectively during emergencies and disasters. A message map is ‘an organized means for displaying layers of information’ (Covello, 2006: 25). It provides hierarchically organized responses to anticipated questions and concerns that people might have during an emergency or disaster. Message mapping

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is a complex process that happens in seven different stages (Covello, 2006). The first step consists of categorizing stakeholders based on different criteria such as the potential to affect outcomes, credibility among other stakeholders and their attitude (apathetic, supportive, critical, etc.). The second stage of the mapping process involves creating a list of questions and concerns that might be particularly relevant for each stakeholder group. This part of the process is important because it considers the needs of various constituents. The third step is analysing the lists created in step two in order to identify common sets of categories of concern. These categories most often include health, safety, environmental, economic, cultural concerns and so on. The fourth step in message mapping is developing key messages in response to each concern; these messages are tailored specifically to the needs of the target audience, that is, what they need and want to hear. Here an important consideration is the simplicity of the message. One specific principle used in message mapping is the 27/9/3 rule (Covello, 2006). The rule states that a message should contain only twenty-seven words, used to express not more than three key ideas which should take nine seconds to hear or read. The 27/9/3 may be difficult to follow in some languages. However, risk managers can still retain the essential point of keeping the message as simple as possible. The idea is to construct messages that are easily understood by an adult that has been educated up to age fourteen. The fifth step in message mapping construction is to develop supporting facts and information for each of the three key messages included in the message map. The sixth step is testing the messages using standardized message-testing procedures. This step involves asking outside experts to validate the information included in the message map and is necessary in order to ensure consistency and coordination. The seventh and final step in the process is concerned with the delivery of the messages through the appropriate communication channels. We will use COVID-19 as an example to demonstrate how message mapping works. The target audience is the general population because anyone can be exposed to the virus due to its fast spreading and the fact that some people can be asymptomatic. The key message is that COVID-19 is highly contagious because people may not show any symptoms and can easily spread the virus. The question related to that concern is ‘How can people help to prevent the spread of COVID-19?’ Three key points to emphasize would be the steps that people could take to protect themselves and others: (1) wash hands regularly with soap and warm water for at least twenty seconds, (2) wear face covering and (3) practise social distancing. Additionally, the message map should also include supporting points for each of the three key points. The idea is to provide people with easy-to-comprehend instructions that contain the most important information about managing and minimizing the risk of COVID-19.

EPPM: GUIDANCE FOR CREATING RISK MESSAGES In summary, the purpose of good risk communication can be to calm people down, provide essential information and ultimately encourage cooperative behaviours, that is, gain compliance. The Extended Parallel Process Model (EPPM) is a framework used in health communication and risk communication in general that provides guidance on how to create effective risk communication messages where people should follow the desired course of action (Witte, Meyer and Martell, 2001). According to the model, the preferred action is known as danger control, and it occurs when people take actions to reduce the threat they are facing. For example, a preferred action in a risk message

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concerning COVID-19 would be the use of face coverings. In other words, people who choose to wear a mask are engaging in danger control because they are adopting the desired behaviour and protecting themselves and others by covering their faces. There are several steps to how people make sense of risks according to the EPPM (see Figure 2.1). To begin with, a person can respond to risk messages by engaging in either danger control (desirable behaviour) or fear control (undesirable behaviour). The first step in the model is to appraise the nature of the threat. People assess their perceived susceptibility to the threat (how likely it is that they will be exposed to the risk) and the perceived severity of the risk (how serious the threat is). If people perceive the threat not to be relevant and/or not too serious, it will be ignored, and they will not engage in the desired danger control behaviour. However, if the threat is assessed to be relevant and severe enough, people are motivated to evaluate the proposed response – they make efficacy assessments. We will again use COVID-19 to illustrate assessments of threat. The perceived susceptibility to the risk of contracting COVID-19 is now very high, considering the virus has spread all over the world, creating a global pandemic. The perceived severity of the threat, however, is different. Research shows that young people are less likely to suffer complications from the virus so their assessment of the severity of the risk is quite low. Older people and those with chronic conditions, however, are very likely to develop serious complications, so their assessment of the severity of the risk of contracting COVID-19 is very high. This example shows how people make different assessments of risks and threats. Those different perceptions can reflect the scientific differences that can exist between risks and threats and/or the subjective interpretations of risks and threats. The proposed response (the plan) is understood as the actions that can be taken to reduce or to completely eliminate the threat. According to the EPPM, engaging in danger control means adopting the desired response. People may choose to engage in danger control after assessing the plan and self-efficacy of the desired response. Plan efficacy, on the one hand, is whether or not the recommended action will work against the threat. If the course of

FIGURE 2.1  Extended parallel process model. Adapted from Barnett et al. 2009 (Creative Commons Attribution License).

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action is assessed as ineffective, people will not follow it. Self-efficacy, on the other hand, is concerned with whether people think they have what it takes (i.e. skills, knowledge, resources) to engage in the desired course of action. Again, if people assess that they are not capable of following the recommended course of action, they will not engage in the behaviour. For instance, washing your hands regularly, wearing a mask and practising social distancing are desired behaviours that will help people slow the spread of COVID-19. However, not all people engage in these behaviours because their perceived self-efficacy is low. The EPPM is a balancing act between threat and efficacy. A threat is necessary for people to consider efficacy. However, if the threat outweighs the efficacy, people will engage in fear control rather than the desired danger control. The combination of threat and efficacy assessments determines the response to the risk message. Translation benefits from translators being aware of the role of threat and efficacy in creating compliance with crisis messages related to risk. The EPPM is a process model because it helps understand the process of how people make sense of risk (Witte, Meyer and Martell, 2001). It is relevant to our discussion because it illustrates how risk communication could be used to influence behaviour and ultimately help people engage in a preferred course of action by gaining their compliance. As noted earlier, Alexander and Pescaroli (2019) did recognize the relevance of risk communication to cascading crises. Moreover, they noted the need for translators to understand the terminology in messages and to understand the culture. We can extend those ideas to risk communication. Translators need to understand the terminology and the design elements (culture) of risk communication. This section builds upon the article from Alexander and Pescaroli (2019) by identifying aspects of risk communication that would inform the work of translators during a cascading crisis. We will return to this point in the third section of the chapter.

CASCADING CRISES AND REMOTE SEGMENTS During cascading crises, you want to reach everyone in a population. Traditional media and digital communication channels help crisis communicators reach a larger segment of the population. But there are some people who are difficult to reach during a cascading crisis. We are using the term ‘remote segments’ to denote populations that are difficult to reach for some reason. These reasons include remote geographic locations, unique sub-cultures (this can include language differences), functional illiteracy and poverty. Frequently the remote segments also are marginalized. These are people with very little power and whose voices are routinely ignored by other actors including government entities. The marginalized groups have been called the forgotten publics (Waymer and Health, 2007). However, it is inaccurate to assume all remote segments are marginalized even though most are. That is why we have chosen the more general term ‘remote segments’. The greatest danger occurs when remote segments are also vulnerable to crises. An example would be a remote segment that lives in an area that is vulnerable to disasters. These remote segments often lack the resources required for effective crisis mitigation, preparation, response, and recovery. The lack of resources can be due to poverty and other ill effects from marginalization. An example of a remote segment is the Cuddalore district in India. The Cuddalore community lives in a remote geographic area that is vulnerable to floods. There is a lack of crisis resources due to the poverty within the community (Selvaraj and Kuppuswamy, 2019). Moreover, remote segments tend to be vulnerable to cascading effects from crises. Lacking crisis resources, the remote segments

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are likely to feel the cascading effects such as disease after a disaster or economic problems including job loss. In this section we review the research focusing on how to reach remote segments to understand how translation has or has not been addressed in this research. This builds upon the research framework of O’Brien and Federici (2019), who explored the role of translation in the disaster literature. The goal is to understand the degree to which translation has been utilized in research designed to develop solutions for reaching remote segments. The solutions for reaching remote segments during cascading crises are diverse. Researchers have uncovered a wide array of options for reaching remote segments with a focus on delivering crisis warnings (response) and some on crisis preparation. The research has concentrated on disasters as the cascading crisis event with some on public health crises. The focus on disasters is understandable. As Selvaraj and Kuppuswamy (2019) note, ‘timely information becomes a savior since people facing a calamity become extremely desperate for real time information a failure of which results in massive casualties’ (104). Furthermore, there is an emphasis on the marginalized nature of these remote segments. Hurricane Katrina is the cascading crisis that has attracted the most research attention in the United States. Waymer and Heath (2007) explored the marginalized voices of those affected by Katrina. Their research argued for the need to understand how advocates appear for the marginalized (remote) segments and the roles of these advocates in crisis communication. Taylor et al. (2009) focused on the role of interpersonal networks in shaping decisions to evacuate or not to evacuate. They found opinion leaders did matter along with how others in an interpersonal network viewed evacuation. Even when people had high hurricane knowledge, they were unlikely to evacuate if others in their interpersonal networks were against evacuation. The research did note the role of poverty in creating isolation for some networks. One way to reach remote segments would be through the opinion leaders in the interpersonal networks for the remote segments. Neither of the two studies examining Hurricane Katrina considers the role of translation in crisis communication. Burton and Ovadiya (2014) examined post-crisis communication and the dangers associated with overlooking marginalized groups. Their approach is based on the process for creating strategic communication messages: needs assessment, strategic planning, dissemination and feedback. Remote segments are considered from the start with needs assessment. One concern is to identify the needs and preferred channels for marginalized groups. Reaching the remote segments is largely a function of finding ‘locally appropriate and accessible communication channels’ (Burton and Ovadiva, 2014: 1). There is an emphasis on using a mix of modern and traditional channels to reach marginalized groups with crisis messages. Again, there is no specific discussion of translation. The article also raises a concern about illiteracy. Frommberger and Waidyanatha (2017) centre their study on illiteracy and function illiteracy. People with basic literacy skills are considered functionally illiterate when tasks require more than the basic reading and writing skills. In this case, the people have a limited understanding of the language being used in the disaster warnings. As they observed, ‘functional illiteracy can be lifethreatening in a disaster situation’ (40). The focus was on function illiteracy because even if one is literate in one’s own language, you are functionally illiterate in languages foreign to you or for which you have limited proficiency. The broader term they used was ‘linguistically challenged populations’. The

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solution is to use pictographs, images that can be understood without words. Pictographs can be used to issue alerts (early warnings) and to gather reports (requests for assistance from victims). The advantages of pictographs include fast assessment, added impact from design elements and the assumed application in cross-language settings (Frommberger and Waidyanatha, 2017; see also Chapter 6 by Da Silva and O’Brien, this volume). Translation is recognized as a concern and pictographs are offered as an alternative to spoken and written languages. Community radio has been explored as a way to reach geographically remote and marginalized groups. These groups are marginalized because major broadcasters ignore them. Community radio stations, some created specifically for emergency situations, are designed to reach these marginalized and remote groups. The radio stations give voice to the voiceless and research indicates they do help marginalized groups during preparation, response and recovery phases of a crisis. Community radio can facilitate preparation by providing helpful information to residents. Community radio can deliver warnings as crises emerge including evacuation orders. During recovery, the community radio can help to coordinate relief efforts (Selvaraj and Kuppuswamy, 2019). The study of community radio does not consider the role of translation in the crisis communication process. Liu (2020) used a disaster communication ecology framework to examine the effects of community-level communication resources on post-recovery efforts of multiethnic and minority communities. In the study, disaster ecology consisted ‘of media, interpersonal, and organizational communication resources, [and] are utilized by diverse community members to navigate post-disaster recovery’ (Liu, 2020: 16). The communication factors that were examined included interpersonal connections, community-based organizations and local media storytelling. The findings supported earlier research that showed positive effects between communication and disaster coping. The stress of anxiety during the post-crisis phase of a hurricane was noted. The study’s results suggest ways to leverage resources that facilitate post-crisis recovery. Translation was not a concern in the study or the interpretation of the results. The recent emphasis on digital channels for communicating during cascading crises, such as a pandemic, raises questions about structural factors that can impact remote and marginalized groups. We must consider how digital channels can limit the accessibility and usability of crisis messages. We must remember not everyone is digitally literate nor does everyone have access to the digital world. Forgetting this can marginalize non-digital groups. In some European locations, government officials remember to use landlines to reach non-digital groups. There also is a need to consider disseminating crisis messages in multiple languages and not just the ‘dominant language’. Marginalized groups often become sceptical of messages from governmental sources due to a history of government entities ignoring their interests or actively working against those interests. It is important to engage community leaders from marginalized groups into the crisis communication process (Coombs, 2020). This research briefly noted the role of translation in the crisis management process but the discussion lacked depth.

SUMMARY Our review of the research examining how to reach remote and marginalized groups during a cascading crisis was intended as sampling, not a comprehensive review. Moreover, we are not critiquing the research but seeking to identify the recognition of translation

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within this research stream. Translation is best described as a passing concern when it is mentioned. In part, much of the research assumes the utilization of a language the remote and marginalized groups will understand. Community radio, as an illustration, would be broadcast in the language of the target community. The research reveals many ways to reach remote and marginalized groups. The point of the review is to illustrate how the concern for translation is not a prominent factor in the research addressing ways to reach remote and marginalized groups during cascading crises. In the next section we elaborate on how the various points discussed thus far can help when considering the application of translation to remote and marginalized groups.

CONCLUSION: INTEGRATING RISK COMMUNICATION AND TRANSLATION FOR REACHING REMOTE SEGMENTS In the introduction, we identified three challenges for cascading crisis communication targeting remote and marginalized segments: creating messages, translating messages and disseminating messages. In reality, translation is important to all three challenges. Translators benefit from understanding how the risk messages in cascading crises are developed and translation should be factored into dissemination efforts. We have reviewed research from risk communication and crisis communication focusing on reaching remote publics to identify how language, cultural factors and channels are important considerations for translation in cascading crisis communication. The research on the effects of anxiety on communication and lessons from EPPM can be layered with one another to provide some insights for the application of translation for the creation of risk messages for remote and marginalized groups during cascading crises. These insights have implications for communication during the preparation, response and recovery phases of a cascading crisis. EPPM has utility during preparation because of its emphasis on efficacy. Translation is essential in understanding assessments of efficacy, the reasons why plan efficacy or self-efficacy might be low and ways of developing messages that can enhance both plan efficacy and self-efficacy. We should not assume just translating core messages from one language to the language of remote and marginalized groups will garner the desired efficacy effects. Translation can play a pivotal role in navigating the complexity of customizing the efficacy enhancing messages targeting remote and marginalized groups. Preparation is an ideal time to build confidence that the plan (desired action) will work (plan efficacy) and the confidence of individuals to enact the desired actions (self-efficacy). Efficacy efforts must include an understanding of either why people feel a plan is ineffective or why they cannot execute the desired actions. Crisis communicators must understand the barriers if they hope to craft messages to overcome the barriers. Ideally, people have the efficacy before the cascading crisis hits. During the preparation phase, anxiety is not a significant factor. That means the efficacy building messages can be more complex than crisis messages being delivered when anxiety is high. Research indicates that anxiety will be high for remote and marginalized groups during the response and recovery phase of a cascading crisis. The uncertainty generated by cascading crises will naturally evoke anxiety. Because anxiety reduces message comprehension, crisis messaging during the response and recovery phases must emphasize simplicity. Some examples of core messages that must be delivered during the response and recovery phases are the need to evacuate, where to take shelter, the seriousness of the

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threat, individual susceptibility to the threat, how to secure aid, where to go for medical attention, how to get assistance with evacuations and how to request aid. The need for simplicity must be factored into the translation process. What constitutes a simple message can vary from language to language. Some language require longer messages that other languages. While clarity and brevity are the key, cultural appropriateness must be considered as well. The translation process could be particularly challenging for threat assessments. As risk expert Sandman (2012) has noted, it is difficult to achieve accurate risk assessments because perceptions of risk are so subjective. However, EPPM highlights how people must perceive a threat as serious and relevant to themselves (susceptibility) if they are to even consider taking desired courses of action such as evacuating or engaging in social distancing. It will be a challenge for translators to create threat messages for marginalized groups that convey both the seriousness of and their susceptibility to the threats posed by the cascading crisis in a fashion that resonates with that group. Again, simply translating a message verbatim into the language of the remote and marginalized groups may not be the most effective way to create a sense of threat. A deep understanding of the language and culture of the remote and marginalized groups is critical to developing effective risk communication messages for those groups. The anxiety and EPPM research provide insights into the additional concerns when translating cascading crisis messages for remote and marginalized groups. As Alexander and Pescaroli (2019) warn, translators must know what is culturally acceptable for an audience. Cultural factors relevant to threat assessments among the marginalized group, such as scepticism of official messages, complicate the challenges of translating threat messages. Research on reaching remote and marginalized segments did address ways to reach remote and marginalized segments through local networks (Liu, 2020; Taylor et al., 2009). Overcoming the scepticism is largely a function of having leaders from the remote or marginalized groups serving as a source of the messages or endorsing the official messages. Research on reaching remote and marginalized segments added channels as an important consideration providing insights into message dissemination. Strategic communication tells us that even the best designed message has no effect if it does not reach the intended target. Choosing the right channel is the way to reach remote and marginalized segments. The example of community radio stations illustrates one potentially appropriate communication channel (Selvaraj and Kuppuswamy, 2019). However, the channel insights are lost if the messages are not translated properly before being delivered. In general, the communication research relevant to cascading crises has paid too little attention to translation’s importance to the process. Translation is either ignored or taken as a given. When it comes to communicating risk messages during a cascading crisis, such oversight or assumptions are problematic. Risk messages have very specific needs in terms of desired effects (threat and efficacy assessments) and the need for simplicity. Translators can develop more effective translations when they understand these basic elements of risk communication because the translated messages can capture these considerations. We would add understanding the culture of risk communication to the requirements of translators. Reaching remote and marginalized segments with effective risk messages during a cascading crisis is always difficult. The likelihood of these risk messages succeeding in evoking the desired response and helping the remote and marginalized segments in need is enhanced by factoring translation into the process of message creation and dissemination.

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REFERENCES Alexander, D. E. and Pescaroli, G. (2019). ‘The role of translators and interpreters in cascading crises and disasters’. Disaster Prevention and Management: An International Journal 29(2): 144–56. Avery, E. J. (2017). ‘Public information officers’ social media monitoring during the zika virus crisis, a global health threat surrounded by public uncertainty’. Public Relations Review 43(3): 468–76. Barnett, D. J., Balicer, R. D., Thompson, C. B., Storey, J. D., Omer, S. B., Semon, N. L., Bayer, S., Cheek, L. V., Gateley, K. W., Lanza, K. M., Norbin, J. A., Slemp, C. C. and Links, J. M. (2009). ‘Assessment of local public health workers’ willingness to respond to pandemic influenza through application of the extended parallel process model’. PloS one 4(7): 1–8. Blakey, S. M. and Abramowitz, J. S. (2017). ‘Psychological predictors of health anxiety in response to the Zika virus’. Journal of Clinical Psychology in Medical Settings 24(3): 270–8. Burton, C. and Ovadiya, M. (2014). ‘Communication following a disaster’. Social Protection and Labor Systems – World Bank Group 5 (June). Available online: http://documents1. worldbank.org/curated/en/703371468337206323/pdf/918080BRI0P1320SPL0Technical0N ote05.pdf (accessed 21 February 2021). Coombs, W. T. (2020). ‘Public sector crises: Realizations from Covid-19 for crisis communication’. Partecipazione e conflitto 13(2): 990–1001. Covello, V. T. (1992). ‘Risk communication: An emerging area of health communication research’. Annals of the International Communication Association 15(1): 359–73. Covello, V. T. (2006). ‘Risk communication and message mapping: A new tool for communicating effectively in public health emergencies and disasters’. Journal of Emergency Management 4(3): 25–40. Derakshan, N. and Eysenck, M. W. (2009). ‘Anxiety, processing efficiency, and cognitive performance: New developments from attentional control theory’. European Psychologist 14(2): 168–76. Federici, F.M. and O’Brien, S. (2020). ‘Cascading crises: Translation as risk reduction’. In F. M. Federici and S. O’Brien (eds), Translation in Cascading Crises, 1–22. New York: Routledge. Frommberger, L. and Waidyanatha, N. (2017). ‘Pictographs in disaster communication for linguistically challenged and illiterate populations: A survey on background and existing practices’. International Journal of Information Systems for Crisis Response and Management (IJISCRAM) 9(2): 37–57. Jin, Y. (2010). ‘Making sense sensibly in crisis communication: How publics’ crisis appraisals influence their negative emotions, coping strategy preferences, and crisis response acceptance’. Communication Research 37(4): 522–52. Jin, Y., Pang, A. and Cameron, G. T. (2007). ‘Integrated crisis mapping: Toward a publicsbased, emotion-driven conceptualization in crisis communication’. Sphera Publica (7): 81–95. Jin, Y., Pang, A. and Cameron, G. T. (2012). ‘Toward a publics-driven, emotion-based conceptualization in crisis communication: Unearthing dominant emotions in multi-staged testing of the integrated crisis mapping (icm) model’. Journal of Public Relations Research 24(3): 266–98. Lazarus, R. S. (1991). ‘Cognition and motivation in emotion’. American Psychologist 46(4): 352–67.

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Liu, W. (2020). ‘Disaster communication ecology in multiethnic communities: Understanding disaster coping and community resilience from a communication resource approach’. Journal of International and Intercultural Communication 15(1): 1–24. O’Brien, S. and Federici, F. M. (2019). ‘Crisis translation: Considering language needs in multilingual disaster settings’. Disaster Prevention and Management: An International Journal 29(2): 129–43. O’Reilly, J., Lain, D., Sheehan, M., Smale, B. and Stuart, M. (2011). ‘Managing uncertainty: The crisis, its consequences and the global workforce’. Work, Employment and Society 25(4): 581–95. Maloney, E. A., Sattizahn, J. R. and Beilock, S. L. (2014). ‘Anxiety and cognition’, Wiley Interdisciplinary Reviews: Cognitive Science 5(4): 403–11. Rai, M. K., Loschky, L. C., Harris, R. J., Peck, N. R. and Cook, L. G. (2011). ‘Effects of stress and working memory capacity on foreign language readers’ inferential processing during comprehension’. Language Learning, 61(1): 187–218. Robinson, O. J., Vytal, K., Cornwell, B. R. and Grillon, C. (2013). ‘The impact of anxiety upon cognition: perspectives from human threat of shock studies’. Frontiers in Human Neuroscience 7: 203. Sandman, P. M. (2012). Responding to Community Outrage: Strategies for Effective Risk Communication. Fairfax, Va.: American Industrial Hygiene Association. Selvaraj, M. and Kuppuswamy, S. (2019). ‘Community radio and crisis communication: A study on the reach and effectiveness of Peridar Kaala Vaanoli 107.8 MHz’. Media Asia 46(3–4): 102–16. Taylor, K., Priest, S., Sisco, H. F., Banning, S. and Campbell, K. (2009). ‘Reading Hurricane Katrina: information sources and decision-making in response to a natural disaster’. Social Epistemology 23(3–4): 361–80. Waymer, D. and Heath, R. L. (2007). ‘Emergent agents: The forgotten publics in crisis communication and issues management research’, Journal of Applied Communication Research 35(1): 88–108. Witte, K. (1994). ‘Fear control and danger control: A test of the extended parallel process model (EPPM)’. Communications Monographs 61(2): 113–34. Witte, K., Meyer, G. and Martell, D. (2001), Effective Health Risk Messages: A Step-by-Step Guide. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.

CHAPTER THREE

The Impact of Misinformation in Crises and the Need for Risk Management KAYO MATSUSHITA AND MIYUKI INOUE

INTRODUCTION Accompanying the rapid global spread of the novel coronavirus (SARS-CoV-2) that surfaced in December 2019 has been the proliferation of the word ‘infodemic’ via mass and social media. While the term existed before the crisis, Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus, director-general of the World Health Organization (WHO), gave the word renewed attention. At a meeting held in February 2020 in Munich, Germany, he warned that ‘we’re not just fighting an epidemic; we’re fighting an infodemic’ and emphasized that ‘Fake news spreads faster and more easily’ than the virus (WHO, 2020a). Since then, the term has been frequently used by the WHO and the media when describing the overabundance of information, including false, erroneous or unfounded information. The crisis has amplified the desire for new information and prompted the constant checking of news, especially online and through social media, which has increasingly become the primary source of information worldwide (Reuters Institute, 2020). Although mass media should also be held responsible for misinforming the public by disseminating ‘underverified’ information, social media allows even ‘unverified’ information to circulate because of its interactive nature and the user-generated content it invites (Desjardins, 2017). A survey conducted by the Reuters Institute for the Study of Journalism at the University of Oxford, which analysed 225 pieces of misinformation published in English and rated false or misleading by fact-checkers between January and March 2020, found that social media has played a major role in the spread of the infodemic, especially in the early months of the outbreak (Brennen et al., 2020). Even in cases where misinformation was later debunked, people paid little attention or even ignored these debunking posts, a known tendency observed among social media users (Zollo et al., 2017). The shortage of reliable information has bred social uncertainty in Japan, as in the case of the cruise ship Diamond Princess, which was quarantined in the port of Yokohama for nearly two months, during which time over 700 passengers and crew members tested positive for coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19). The mass infection started to unfold

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in early February, more than a month before the WHO declared the situation a pandemic, and credible information was scarce. As a result, reporting by the mainstream media was often limited to the number of infected rising each day. To fill the void, many people went online where they could find news and information from overseas translated by concerned citizens, including politicians, celebrities and other influential individuals (i.e. non-professional translators). However, some of the information provided in the early stage of the pandemic was later shown to have been unevidenced. A Japanese government survey released in June 2020 revealed that 57 per cent of the 2,000-plus respondents said that they had encountered ‘fake news’ on COVID-19 via Twitter (Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communication, 2020). Their encounters with fake news likely include translated information given the frequent appearance of such content on Twitter combined with the fact that the Japanese are known to be heavy users of the service (Nomura Research Institute, 2020). Against this backdrop, this chapter explores the impact of ‘misinformation’ (Wardle, 2019) resulting from translations by non-professional translators (ranging from journalists with no translator training to ordinary citizens) in the mass and social media sphere during the early months of the pandemic. Specifically, it focuses on two phenomena: (1) the spread of misinformation (including reformulated, recontextualized and unverified information) in social media and (2) the repeated use of transliterated terms such as ‘lockdown’ and ‘overshoot’, which acted as false alarms because they were not applicable to the situation in Japan. Through text analysis combined with observations by and interviews with media insiders, this chapter aims to examine how misinformation occurs through translation and to identify ways to manage such risk during times of crisis to mitigate the negative impact of the infodemic in COVID-19related cases and beyond.

WHAT IS AN INFODEMIC? Before investigating the impact caused by the infodemic in Japan, this section outlines key terms that this study uses in describing the phenomenon. Specifically, the terms ‘infodemic’, ‘misinformation’, ‘disinformation’ and ‘malinformation’ are discussed, based on findings from prior research. Although several attempts have been made thus far to define some of the terms listed above, no single definition seems to satisfy the broad interpretation of what each entails explicitly. Regarding ‘infodemic’, that it is a blend of ‘information’ and ‘epidemic’ is well known. Merriam-Webster explains that it was a coinage by journalist and political scientist David Rothkopf in a column he wrote for the Washington Post in 2003 (MerriamWebster, ‘Words We’re Watching: “Infodemic”’, 2020). Referring first to SARS and then to terrorism and ‘shark-sighting’, Rothkopf (2003) elaborates that infodemic is ‘[a] few facts, mixed with fear, speculation and rumor, amplified and relayed swiftly worldwide by modern information technologies’ that affect the world ‘in ways that are utterly disproportionate with the root realities’. Given the magnitude of the global impact of COVID-19, the latter part of this definition may no longer apply. The WHO, which has been using the term in the context of the COVID-19 pandemic, has not provided an official definition but simply describes it as ‘an overabundance of information – some accurate and some not – occurring during an epidemic’ (WHO, 2020b: 1). Since this study focuses explicitly on the infodemic around COVID-19, we have adopted the WHO’s usage of the term.

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As seen above, the term ‘infodemic’ does not apply to inaccurate or false information alone. When describing the negative impact caused by such information, categorizations such as ‘misinformation’, ‘disinformation’ and ‘malinformation’ are often used. In response to the COVID-19 infodemic, Baines and Elliott (2020) conducted a detailed analysis of how these three terms are used in existing research and suggested a taxonomy from the perspective of information systems research. In sum, misinformation is a classification applied when the sender has ‘no intention to deceive’ but the ‘message and the proposition are not truth equivalent’ (2020: 12); if there is an intention to deceive, then it is categorized as ‘disinformation’. ‘[M]alinformation’ requires ‘both intention and equivalence and often involves a repurposing of the truth value of information for deceptive ends’ (2020: 12). The global online news watchdog First Draft offers a set of more straightforward descriptions (Wardle, 2019: 8, emphasis added): Disinformation is content that is intentionally false and designed to cause harm. It is motivated by three distinct factors: to make money; to have political influence, either foreign or domestic; or to cause trouble for the sake of it. When disinformation is shared it often turns into misinformation. Misinformation also describes false content but the person sharing doesn’t realise that it is false or misleading. Often a piece of disinformation is picked up by someone who doesn’t realise it’s false, and shares it with their networks, believing that they are helping…. The third category we use is malinformation. The term describes genuine information that is shared with an intent to cause harm. Among the three types described above, this study focuses on misinformation because the spread of ill-intended or deceptive information was not evident in Japan. For example, a study conducted by a team of public health experts regarding the infodemic that occurred in eighty-seven countries in the early months of the pandemic revealed that no cases of conspiracy theories (defined by the team as ‘statements, claims, and discussion of various theories related to the origin of SARS-CoV-2 and its malicious goals’) were found in Japan (Islam et al., 2020). Based on the findings from prior research outlined in this section, misinformation is operationally defined as ‘false information that people spread without acknowledging the falsehood or having clear malicious intent’.

THEORETICAL BACKGROUND This section outlines the theoretical concepts related to this study. Namely, it introduces prior research on ‘transliteration’ and ‘risk’ within translation studies and beyond. The following subsections provide brief overviews of each concept and relevant literature.

Transliteration Along with globalization and the increased access to news sources in foreign languages, the use of transliteration has increased over the years in Japan. Transliteration is a method of translation used when transferring sound from one language to another (Li, 2007). Although it is frequently used in the practice of translation, ‘little, if anything, has been written about’ it regarding its technicalities, leaving the method in ‘a theoretical limbo’ (Li, 2007: 46). While transliteration attracted scholarly attention in the mid-1960s

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(Catford, 1965; Nida, 1964), interest in the topic eventually faded, and ‘[the] treatment of the subject has dwindled to footnote-length mention, and eventually to no mention at all’ in textbooks published in the last two decades (Li, 2007: 46). In addition, literature on transliteration mostly focused on phonological translation of proper names, and insufficient attention has been paid to the reasons why translators choose to transliterate. The incomprehensibility of transliterated content, particularly when non-European languages such as Asian languages are involved (Kim, 2017), was not investigated either. Moreover, the complications that arise from significantly different syllable structure and orthographic conventions between the source language and the target language in these cases (e.g. when transliterating from English to non-European languages) were often neglected or only briefly examined (Li, 2007). When English words are transliterated into Japanese, they are replaced with approximate phonetic equivalents and presented in katakana, one of the two types of syllabic characters in the Japanese language system, which is predominantly used for foreign words. In news reporting, this strategy is typically used when newsmakers (i.e. subjects of the news such as political leaders and experts) introduce new ideas, concepts or phenomena in languages other than the language of writing. As Shimada (2020) points out, foreign correspondents or international news reporters typically opt for transliteration when no definitive translation can be found, mainly for practical reasons (e.g. to save time needed to come up with the appropriate translation and to avoid being criticized for mistranslation). However, such proliferation of transliterated words in the media does not mean that the receiving side embraces the phenomenon. A Japanese government survey conducted in 2018 showed that of the 2,022 respondents aged sixteen and over, 85.3 per cent found the katakana transliterations of foreign words they encounter in their daily lives problematic because of their incomprehensibility. Furthermore, 35.6 per cent found these katakana words to be ‘undesirable’, most frequently ‘because katakana words are difficult to understand’, as cited by 62.6 per cent of the respondents (Agency for Cultural Affairs, 2018). Similar difficulties are reported by South Koreans, who have experienced a parallel cultural acceptance of transliterated English words in the media (Kim, 2017).

Risk, communication and translation The relationship between risk, communication and translation has become a topic of discussion within translation studies in recent decades. This seems to be a natural step since our societies have been faced with an increased number of crises – both natural and human-induced – even before the COVID-19 outbreak. The series of disasters in recent years, from volcanic eruptions to nuclear accidents, have highlighted the importance of translation to reduce communication-related risks in a globalized and multilingual world. As Federici and O’Brien (2020) rightly advocate, the need for translation to be included in risk reduction efforts during cascading crises (e.g. ensuring access to accurate information in multiple languages) has been increasingly recognized. In addition, crisis experts have been stressing the need for effective ‘risk communication’, defined by the WHO (2017: vii) as ‘the real-time exchange of information, advice and opinions between experts, community leaders or officials and the people who are at risk, which is an integral part of any emergency response’. Part of communicating risk effectively is making sure to ‘address rumours and misinformation as soon as they arise’ (2017: 28): in other words, the prevention of infodemics.

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Although the importance of risk communication in crisis situations has been actively discussed globally and terms such as Emergency Risk Communication (ERC) have been used in such discussions for over a decade (2017: vii), it was not until the outbreak of the COVID-19 pandemic that the concept started to attract attention in Japan. It is therefore both fitting and necessary that this study highlights the role of translation in risk communication, specifically the impact of translation by both journalists and lay citizens in perpetuating infodemics.

STUDY DESIGN In order to better understand the impact of misinformation resulting from translation in the mass and social media spheres, this study focuses on two types of cases. First, it focuses on cases that led to the spread of misinformation in Japan via social media. Next, it examines instances in which the transliterated terms were used out of context, giving the Japanese public a false impression regarding certain aspects of the crisis. The searches were conducted in different ways for each type, as outlined below.

Spread of misinformation via social media Since the spread of the virus that initially surfaced in Wuhan, China, media from around the world have been closely covering the news on COVID-19. In order to detect cases of misinformation involving translation (i.e. news originating outside Japan but relevant enough to be translated into Japanese) from among the massive accumulation of news texts, this study used NewsGuard, a media watchdog website that rates the trustworthiness of global news coverage. On their website, the ‘Coverage’ section lists news articles tagged as ‘fake news’. All available articles dated between December 2019 and December 2020 were screened. Among many possible candidates, one case of misinformation turned out to be particularly relevant to the Japanese public: the ‘5G conspiracy’. This case centred on a rumoured link between the spread of COVID-19 and the 5G networks widely introduced in Wuhan just before the outbreak. Social media posts and other online information included suggestions that the passengers of the cruise ship Diamond Princess, who were quarantined on board off the coast of Japan, were affected by the virus because the vessel used 5G technology. Using some of the keywords found in the initial screening, a more detailed search was conducted on this case, especially on Twitter, which Japanese people heavily depend upon as a news source (Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communication, 2020).

Transliterated and recontextualized terms The search for the transliterated terms was conducted more selectively. ‘Lockdown’ and ‘overshoot’ were chosen based on the frequency of their appearance in the media as well as the negative impact observed among the public due to inappropriate recontextualization. Those working for the mainstream media and media observers have also singled out these two terms as possibly problematic usages of transliterated katakana words (Shimada, 2020; Reizei, 2020). Therefore, these two terms were chosen as targets of analysis. In order to find out how these two terms were used by the mainstream and online media in Japan, two outlets were chosen for each media type. As for the mainstream media, newspapers were chosen based on their wide circulation in Japan and perceived reliability (Matsushita, 2019). The two largest newspapers with different political

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leanings and readerships – the Yomiuri Shimbun and the Asahi Shimbun – were selected in order to achieve a diversity of opinions (Matsushita, 2019). With a circulation of 7.1 million as of April 2021, the Yomiuri Shimbun is the largest newspaper in Japan (Japan Audit Bureau of Circulations, 2021) and leans centre-right (Matsushita, 2019). The Asahi Shimbun has a circulation of 4.7 million (Japan Audit Bureau of Circulations, 2021) and leans centre-left (Matsushita, 2019). These papers offer individual databases of their news articles published to date, which can be searched by date (or date range) and search terms. The date range ‘1 December 2019 to 31 December 2020’ and the words ‘ロック ダウン (rokkudaun) [lockdown]’ orオーバーシュート (ōbāshūto) [overshoot]’ and ‘新型 (shingata) [novel]’ were used for the search (the last word was included because it was the only term consistently used in COVID-19-related news articles in Japan). Regarding online media, HuffPost Japan and BuzzFeed Japan were chosen based on brand awareness and perceived credibility in Japan (Reuters Institute, 2020). BuzzFeed Japan has more than 35 million unique visitors per month (as of December 2020), with an audience predominantly comprising Generation Z and millennials (BuzzFeed, 2021). HuffPost Japan has 24 million unique visitors per month (as of April 2020), with the main audience being those in their thirties and forties (BuzzFeed, 2021). The articles published on each news website were found using Google search (by typing ‘:site’ followed by the name of the website) with the same date range and search terms as were used for the newspapers. A detailed textual analysis of the articles collected was conducted by the authors of this study.

KEY FINDINGS: MISINFORMATION (THE 5G CONSPIRACY) A typical case of misinformation this study found was a social media-led news story linking the cause of the coronavirus outbreak in Wuhan, China, to the rollout of 5G mobile phone networks in the region. According to an online article published by the BBC in late February 2020 (Cellan-Jones, 2020), this theory became popular among Facebook users who created Facebook groups to campaign against 5G networks. YouTube videos with titles such as ‘WUHAN CORONA VIRUS IS A 5G LED SMART STREET LIGHT TEST BED’ became popular in these groups and later spread via other social media platforms. Another YouTube video even suggested that the passengers of the cruise ship Diamond Princess were affected by the virus because the ship used 5G technology (Cellan-Jones, 2020). Although it may seem easy to dismiss the case as an obvious example of fake news, one needs to be reminded that this rumour went around in the early stage of the pandemic when reliable information was scarce. It was in the midst of such uncertainty that news reports started coming in that Wuhan had suspended all transportation to and from the city just before the Chinese New Year, which the Financial Times described as ‘the Chinese equivalent of locking down Chicago on Thanksgiving’ (Weinland et al., 2020). Quarantine officers were reported to have been infected as well, but there was no clarity on how the disease was transmitted or how to prevent the spread. In Japan, news reports regarding the spread of a ‘mysterious pneumonia’ in Wuhan started to appear towards the end of December 2019. Kyodo News, one of Japan’s major wire services, was the first to report on ‘a rash of pneumonia patients with unknown causes in China’ on 31 December. After international wire services such as the AFP reported that

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the Chinese authorities had confirmed the spread of pneumonia caused by a virus of unknown origin in early January, Japanese media started to cover the incident. Back then, all Japanese media called the virus ‘新型肺炎 (shingata haien) [novel pneumonia]’. The WHO announced the name ‘COVID-19’ in February, but in Japan, the term ‘新型コロ ナウイルス (shingata koronauirusu) [novel coronavirus]’ became the standard following the initial coinage. News reports regarding the novel coronavirus started to visibly increase after the first case in Japan was confirmed on 16 January 2020. Japan was hit by another shock when the cruise ship Diamond Princess reported its first infection on 1 February. The international luxury liner had departed Yokohama, Japan, on 20 January, arriving in Hong Kong five days later. The Diamond Princess then travelled to Vietnam and Taiwan before returning to Japan. On 1 February, an eighty-year-old passenger who had disembarked from the vessel in Hong Kong with cold-like symptoms developed a fever and was confirmed COVID-19 positive. Following this, the Japanese Ministry of Health, Labour and Welfare quarantined the approximately 3,700 passengers and crew on board from the night of 3 February. As the multinational passengers from over twenty countries were unable to disembark, the infection spread and fatalities grew. There was also a shortage of supplies such as masks and face guards, which heightened anxiety onboard. While the news was heavily reported by the international media, including major broadcasters such as the BBC and CNN, passengers – quarantined in their rooms – relied on social media to both send and receive information. Given these circumstances, the spread of misinformation linking the cause of COVID-19 to the 5G network was somewhat understandable. One of the rare common threads tying the mass infection on Diamond Princess and that of Wuhan was the 5G network: Wuhan is a rapidly growing city with many 5G communication stations, and Diamond Princess was using 5G antennas for communication. Supporters of the theory claimed that the electromagnetic waves emitted by 5G antennas could damage the immune system and make humans susceptible to the coronavirus. However absurd the linkage may seem, this theory continued to circulate. It is worth noting that this theory had already been investigated and disproven at an early stage. For example, Full Fact, a UK-based non-profit organization, published an article as early as 29 January 2020 under the title ‘The Wuhan Coronavirus Has Nothing to Do with 5G’ (Rahman, 2020). Quoting an announcement by Public Health England, it concluded that ‘There is no evidence that 5G can damage the immune system’ (Rahman, 2020) Follow-up articles were published in March and April as well. Still, the misinformation kept circulating around the world (Heilweil, 2020; Off and Howden, 2020). Although none of these arguments originated in Japan, the misinformation spread via social media in translated forms. By searching for ‘5G’ and ‘コロナ (korona) [corona]’ together on Twitter, hundreds of tweets regarding the 5G conspiracy could be found even more than a year after the theory came into being. These include a series of Twitter posts connecting not only Wuhan and the Diamond Princess but also other 5G-related events such as a Japanese mobile carrier handing out 5G devices on the street and the 5G demonstration during the Sapporo Snow Festival as evidence of the spread of COVID-19 in Japan. One of the frequently tweeted videos by the Japanese users was titled ‘トーマスコー エン博士 コロナについて語る (Tōmasu kōen hakase korona ni tsuite kataru) [Dr Thomas

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Cowen talks about corona]’. The original video has already been removed from YouTube as part of its effort to crack down on misinformation (Ostrov, 2021), but according to Newsweek, this video was shot in mid-March during a health summit held in Arizona (Wynne, 2020). The article explains that the video connected, for example, the relatively low number of COVID-positive patients in Africa at the time to the lack of a 5G network on the continent (Wynne, 2020). Surprisingly, the link to the abridged version of the video with Japanese subtitles (translator unknown) was still accessible as of February 2021 (‘Tōmasu kōen’, 2020). In it, Dr Cowen claims that ‘every pandemic in the last 150 years’ followed a ‘quantum leap in the electrification of the earth’, linking the Spanish flu of 1918 to the introduction of radio waves and the Hong Kong flu of 1968 to the launch of satellites emitting radioactive frequencies in the Van Allen Belt. He also draws a connection between 5G and the COVID-19 pandemic, saying that ‘there has been a dramatic and quantum leap in the last six months with the electrification of the Earth…. It’s called 5G’. In addition to the Japanese subtitles, a list of the connections between the technological advancements and past pandemics that Dr Cowen pointed out was also translated into Japanese and retweeted among the Japanese users, making this a typical case of misinformation disseminated by means of non-professional translation.

Transliteration This section examines cases of recontextualization resulting from transliteration. Specifically, it focuses on cases where English words have been transliterated into katakana without sufficient background information, thereby inadvertently misleading the public. Two representative examples are highlighted below.

Lockdown and overshoot ‘Lockdown’ is a term that has been repeatedly used in the context of the COVID-19 pandemic. Merriam-Webster (2021) gives a specific definition to lockdowns in such situations: ‘a temporary condition imposed by governmental authorities (as during the outbreak of an epidemic disease) in which people are required to stay in their homes and refrain from or limit activities outside the home involving public contact (such as dining out or attending large gatherings)’. In the case of COVID-19, many governments – central and local – took these measures with varying degrees of strictness to prevent people from coming into contact with each other and contracting or spreading the virus. According to the BBC, more than a hundred countries had implemented full or partial lockdowns affecting billions of people worldwide (Dunford et al., 2020). Based on a search this study conducted using the online database Nexis Uni, international media started using the term ‘lockdown’ in relation to the novel coronavirus around 20 January 2020. This was the day the head of the national health commission team investigating the outbreak in China confirmed that fourteen medical personnel had already been infected, proving human-to-human transmission of the virus (Kuo, 2020). On 23 January, the Chinese government stopped all public transport in and out of Wuhan, and residents were forbidden from leaving their homes. Most English-language media reported this government action as a ‘lockdown’ of Wuhan (Qin et al., 2020). In Japan, the same news from Wuhan was reported as ‘封鎖’ (fūsa)’, which means ‘blockade’ in Japanese. For a while, this term continued to be used by the Japanese mainstream media when referring to the subsequent developments in Wuhan. Meanwhile, the virus reached Europe, and several countries saw a surge in COVID-positive patients. On

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9 March, the Italian government imposed a national quarantine restricting the non-essential movement of the population. In reporting this decision, the Japanese mainstream media used the term ‘移動制限 (idō seigen)’, which means ‘movement restriction’ in Japanese. Although the word ‘lockdown’ was not used by the mainstream media at this point, its transliterated version, ‘ロックダウン (rokkudaun)’, was already widespread on social media in Japan. It could also be found in general interest magazines or when broadcasters aired foreign news programmes with simultaneous interpretation. In other words, public recognition of ‘rokkudaun’ was gradually increasing through channels other than the mainstream media. It was against this backdrop that Tokyo governor Yuriko Koike used the word ‘rokkudaun’ explicitly in a press conference on 23 March. In describing the growing number of COVID-positive residents in Tokyo, she stated that there was a possibility that Tokyo would be forced to take strong measures, such as the ‘so-called lockdown’ (‘Koike chiji’, 2020). In reporting this comment, both mass and social media began using ‘rokkudaun’. The difference was that the newspapers added ‘都市封鎖 (toshi fūsa)’, meaning ‘city blockade’, in parentheses to provide an additional explanation, a practice that was confirmed by the analysis of all the related articles in the two newspapers examined for this study. In contrast, the word ‘rokkudaun’ without such clarification started to spread rapidly via social media after Governor Koike made the statement. This caused confusion among the ordinary public because ‘lockdown’ was an unknown measure in Japan and no one (including those in the media) was ready to offer a clear definition. Unevidenced rumours such as the suggestion that ‘the Japanese government will impose a lockdown in April, and we will be grounded’ spread on mobile communication apps like LINE. Japanese people living overseas started feeding information on social media about the lockdowns in their countries of residence. Most of these tweets were intended to provide useful information regarding ‘what to expect’ in the case of a lockdown. However, since the level of social restrictions differed significantly from country to country, most of the measures introduced were irrelevant to Japan’s situation, where no penalties or fines were enforced. The Japanese government soon became aware of the confusion this term was causing among the public. When it declared a nationwide state of emergency on 7 April, Prime Minister Shinzo Abe specifically addressed this issue in the following manner (Abe, 2020): This declaration of a state of emergency does not in any way intend to close cities or a lockdown as we are seeing take place overseas. I state that clearly. Trains, buses, and other forms of public transportation will continue to operate…. Right now, the greatest thing we should fear is fear itself. It is still fresh in your memory that false rumours spreading on social media resulted in a shortage of toilet papers in stores…. [Social media could] cause panic on the basis of misinformation driven and spread by nothing other than fear. In such cases, it causes enormous harm upon our economy, our society, and our lives that surpasses the risk of the virus itself. Despite the government’s effort to differentiate the Japanese state of emergency from lockdown measures overseas, the use of the term continued to spread among the public and some pointed to transliteration as the cause of the confusion. In its report titled ‘Survey Report on COVID-19 Information Distribution’ published in June 2020, the Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communications gave seventeen examples of ‘false

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or misleading information’, two of which included the term ‘rokkudaun’ (Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communication, 2020). One said that if a state of emergency is declared in Japan, the country will be ‘locked down’ for three weeks. The other claimed that the government would declare a state of emergency on 1 April followed by a ‘lockdown’ on 2 April. Both claims were believed to be true by approximately 15 per cent of the respondents, with more than 40 per cent being unsure (Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communication, 2020). Moreover, the report found that 35.5 per cent of the people who saw and believed false or misleading information on COVID-19 had shared or disseminated the information, listing Twitter (57 per cent) as the number one source of such information (Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communication, 2020). Furthermore, a report titled ‘The Independent Investigation Commission on the Japanese Government’s Response to COVID-19: Report on Best Practices and Lessons Learned’ released in early October 2020 by the Asia Pacific Initiative, a private thinktank, specifically pointed out the negative impact caused by the introduction of ‘rokkudaun’ by the Tokyo governor (Asia Pacific Initiative, 2020): When Tokyo Governor Yuriko Koike suddenly referred to the possibility of a ‘lockdown’ in her March 23 news conference, public tension increased sharply as some people rushed to retail stores to buy up foodstuffs and other daily necessities. A false perception spread that the government would enforce city lockdowns as seen in European and North American countries when it declared a state of emergency, and the government had to dispel such a misunderstanding. COVID-19 minister Nishimura said the government’s declaration of a state of emergency was delayed partly due to Koike’s ‘lockdown’ remark. ‘Lockdown’ was not the only coronavirus-related word transliterated from English into Japanese. Among those that were frequently used in the context of the pandemic such as ‘cluster’ and ‘pandemic’, ‘overshoot’ might have been the one that baffled the Japanese public the most. The term attracted media attention when introduced at the ‘Novel Coronavirus Expert Meeting’ held on 19 March 2020 (Ministry of Health, Labour and Welfare, 2020), referring to an explosive surge in the number of COVID-19 infections. However, English-language media soon pointed out that ‘overshoot’ does not, as Japanese experts intended, describe spikes in infections, and few English speakers would be familiar with this usage of the word (Takahashi, 2020). Nevertheless, political leaders such as Prime Minister Abe and Tokyo governor Koike started to use its transliterated version ‘オーバーシュート (ōbāshūto)’. Hence, the media started using the term as well in the form of direct quotations (Takahashi, 2020). In a paper analysing the use of transliterated katakana words in the Japanese media, Shimada (2020: 25) hypothesized that one of the reasons for introducing this unfamiliar term in the expert meeting was to increase the ‘sense of emergency’ by using an unfamiliar foreign word. Among the mainstream and online media that this study analysed, the two newspapers – the Yomiuri Shimbun and the Asahi Shimbun – both used ‘ōbāshūto’ for the first time on 20 March in reporting on the outcome of the expert meeting. Both papers put the word in quotation marks, followed by an explanation stating that the term refers to a sudden surge in patients. In later coverage, both papers deleted the quotation marks and put the explanation in parentheses after the transliterated word. This eventually became the standard for the two papers, with the explanation replaced by ‘explosive spread of infection’ in some cases, depending on the context.

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As for the two online media outlets chosen for this study, BuzzFeed Japan used the transliterated term for the first time on 24 March with a similar explanation to that of the mainstream media, either in parentheses or in the text preceding ‘ōbāshūto’. The difference was that the article highlighted ‘overshoot’ as an unfamiliar word and asked about it in an interview with one of the experts who attended the meeting on 19 March. In contrast, when ‘ōbāshūto’ first appeared in a HuffPost Japan article on 1 April, it was as part of a direct quote from an expert with no explanation of the term. This may have been because the term had already gained some level of recognition among the public considering more than ten days had passed since the mainstream media’s first use of it. In an interview conducted on 1 February 2021 for this study, Daisuke Furuta, founding director of BuzzFeed Japan and now CEO/founder of Media-Collab, shared the observation that the influx of English words in Japan has become an unstoppable phenomenon and the use of transliterated katakana words will only increase. He also pointed out that newsmakers’ using transliterated katakana words in their comments makes these terms difficult for journalists to avoid. He also added that the time constraints in which journalists work limit their ability to determine appropriate translations for novel terms. Moreover, he mentioned that the relatively short length of Japanese news articles – a tradition based on space restrictions in print media – makes it harder for news reporters to provide lengthy explanations for each word to avoid misunderstanding.

CONCLUSION AND FURTHER IMPLICATIONS In response to the circumstances explained in previous sections, various experts in Japan have begun acknowledging the importance of ‘risk communication’ in times of crisis. For example, the Independent Investigation Commission, which produced the report on the government response to COVID-19, stressed that some of the ‘efforts at risk communication proved effective in urging people to change their behaviors and contributed greatly to containing first-wave infections in Japan’ (Asia Pacific Initiative, 2020: 16). It cited crafting of the easy-to-follow catchphrase to avoid ‘三密 (sanmitsu) [the “3Cs”]’ consisting of ‘密閉 (mippei) [closed spaces]’, ‘密集 (misshū) [crowded places]’ and ‘密接 (missetsu) [close-contact settings]’ as a successful example. In his February 2021 interview, Furuta agreed, and gave this example as a way to overcome adverse effects of transliteration (translation ours): The Japanese phrase ‘avoid sanmitsu’ is basically referring to the same thing as ‘social distancing’. However, it was because the phrase consisted of a simple message in Japanese that the word reached a wider audience, including small children and senior citizens. If the term ‘social distancing’ was simply transliterated and used as a slogan, I don’t think it would have achieved such penetration. A similar view is held by Haruko Osugi, representative director of the Risk Communication Institute of Japan (RCIJ), an organization established amid the pandemic in July 2020. In an interview conducted on 19 February, 2021, she warned that the use of katakana words can be a communication risk because there is a high probability that the same definitions are not being shared by the sender and the receiver of information. She pointed out that the risk and consequences of this discrepancy are likely greater among older adults, who are more susceptible to serious disease but are less exposed to foreign words and concepts rendered as katakana transliterations. Regarding the spread

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of misinformation, she stressed the importance of both mainstream and online media in stopping the infodemic by not blindly following what is trending on social media but by investing more effort in verifying information. Her comment echoes that of David Heymann, professor of infectious disease epidemiology at the London School of Hygiene & Tropical Medicine, who told The Lancet that the traditional media has a key role in providing the public with evidence-based information that he hopes would be picked up by social media (Zarocostas, 2020). The examples of misinformation examined in this chapter revealed that no malicious intent is necessary to drive infodemics. On the contrary, people become ‘super-spreaders’ of information because they want to help others in times of crisis. When events are still unfolding and credible information is scarce, merely retweeting a piece of seemingly reliable information can start an infodemic. In cases where translation is involved, the credibility of information becomes even harder to gauge because the source becomes more difficult to trace. The cases analysed in this study and expert insights suggest that infodemics are likely to recur unless there is a concerted effort to combat them: risk communication has emerged as one potential area of inquiry. It is hoped that this case study from Japan can become a wake-up call for governments, newsmakers, media and individuals alike to take the necessary steps forward.

REFERENCES Abe, S. (2020). [COVID-19] Press Conference by the Prime Minister Regarding the Declaration of a State of Emergency. Prime Minister’s Office of Japan, 7 April. Available online: https:// japan.kantei.go.jp/98_abe/statement/202004/_00001.html (accessed 25 May 2021). Agency for Cultural Affairs. (2018). heisei 29 nendo kokugo ni kan suru yoron chōsa [Public Opinion Poll on Japanese Language (Fiscal Year 2017)]. Available online: https://www. bunka.go.jp/tokei_hakusho_shuppan/tokeichosa/kokugo_yoronchosa/pdf/r1393038_01.pdf (accessed 25 May 2021). Asia Pacific Initiative. (2020). The Independent Investigation Commission on the Japanese Government’s Response to COVID-19: Report on Best Practices and Lessons Learned (Part III, Chapter 6). Available online: https://apinitiative.org/wp/wp-content/ uploads/2021/01/3-6_API-Independent-Investigation-Commission-on-Japanese-Response-toCOVID-1.pdf (accessed 25 May 2021). Baines, D. and Elliott, R. J. R. (2020). ‘Defining misinformation, disinformation and malinformation: An urgent need for clarity during the COVID-19 infodemic’. Discussion Papers 20 (06). Department of Economics, University of Birmingham. Available online: https://repec.cal.bham.ac.uk/pdf/20-06.pdf (accessed 25 May 2021). Brennen, J. S., Simon, F. M., Howard, P. N. and Nielsen, R. K. (2020). Types, Sources, and Claims of COVID-19 Misinformation. Available online: https://reutersinstitute.politics.ox.ac. uk/types-sources-and-claims-covid-19-misinformation (accessed 25 May 2021). BuzzFeed. (2021). ‘BuzzFeed Japan and HuffPost Japan to merge creating a digital media powerhouse with broad reach’, 7 April. Buzzfeed. Available online: https://www.buzzfeed. com/buzzfeedpress/buzzfeed-japan-huffpost-merge (accessed 25 May 2021). Catford, J.C. (1965). A Linguistic Theory of Translation. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Cellan-Jones, R. (2020). ‘Coronavirus: Fake news is spreading fast’. BBC, 26 February. Available online: https://www.bbc.com/news/technology-51646309 (accessed 25 May 2021).

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Desjardins, R. (2017). Translation and Social Media: In Theory, in Training and in Professional Practice. London: Palgrave Macmillan. Dunford, D., Dale, B., Stylianou, N., Lowther, E., Ahmed, M. and de la Torre Arenas, I. (2020). ‘Coronavirus: The world in lockdown in maps and charts’, BBC, 7 April. Available online: https://www.bbc.com/news/world-52103747 (accessed 25 May 2021). Federici, F. M. and O’Brien, S. (2020). ‘Cascading crises: Translation as risk reduction’. In F. M. Federici and S. O’Brien (eds), Translation in Cascading Crises, 1–22. Abingdon: Routledge. Heilweil, R. (2020). ‘How the 5G coronavirus conspiracy theory went from fringe to mainstream’. Vox, 24 April. Available online: https://www.vox.com/ recode/2020/4/24/21231085/coronavirus-5g-conspiracy-theory-covid-facebook-youtube (accessed 25 May 2021). Islam, M. S., Sarkar, T., Khan, S. H., Kamal, A. -H. M., Hasan, S. M. M., Kabir, A., Yeasmin, D., Islam, M. A., Chowdhury, K. I. A., Anwar, K. S., Chughtai, A. A. and Seale, H. (2020). ‘COVID-19-related infodemic and its impact on public health: A global social media analysis’. The American Journal of Tropical Medicine and Hygiene 103(4): 1621–9. Japan Audit Bureau of Circulations. (2021). ABC Report. Tokyo: Japan Audit Bureau of Circulations. Kim, W.-D. (2017). ‘Lost in translation: (Mis)translation of foreign film titles in Korea’. Babel 63(5):  729–45. ‘Koike chiji, Tōkyō demo “toshi fūsa no kanōsei aru”: Jakunen-sō kurasutā “mujikaku ni kakusan no osore”’ [Governor Koike: ‘There is a possibility of an urban blockade in Tokyo, too’ and clusters of young people ‘could spread (the virus) unconsciously’] (2020). Yomiuri Shimbun, 24 March. Available online: https://www.yomiuri.co.jp/politics/20200323OYT1T50191/ (accessed 25 May 2021). Kuo, L. (2020). ‘China confirms human-to-human transmission of coronavirus’. The Guardian, 21 January. Available online: https://www.theguardian.com/world/2020/jan/20/coronavirusspreads-to-beijing-as-china-confirms-new-cases (accessed 25 May 2021). Li, C. W.-C. (2007). ‘Foreign names into native tongues: How to transfer sound between languages – transliteration, phonological translation, nativization, and implications for translation theory’. Target 19(1): 45–68. Matsushita, K. (2019), When News Travels East: Translation Practices by Japanese Newspapers. Leuven: Leuven University Press. Merriam-Webster. (2020). ‘Words We’re Watching: “Infodemic”’. Available online: https:// www.merriam-webster.com/words-at-play/words-were-watching-infodemic-meaning (accessed 25 May 2021). Merriam-Webster. (2021). ‘Lockdown’. Available online: https://www.merriam-webster.com/ dictionary/lockdown (accessed 25 May 2021). Ministry of Health, Labour and Welfare. (2020). Novel Coronavirus Expert Meeting. Available online: https://www.mhlw.go.jp/content/10900000/000610566.pdf (accessed 25 May 2021). Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communication. (2020). shingata koronauirusu kansenshō ni kan suru jōhō ryūtsū chōsa [Survey report on COVID-19 information distribution]. Available online: https://www.soumu.go.jp/main_content/000693295.pdf (accessed 25 May 2021). Nida, E. (1964). Toward a Science of Translating: With Special Reference to Principles and Procedures Involved in Bible Translating. Leiden: E. J. Brill. Nomura Research Institute. (2020). shingata koronauirusu kansen kakudaika no nihonjin no jōhō shūshū kōdō [Information gathering behaviour of Japanese people under the

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spread of new coronavirus infection]. Available online: https://www.nri.com/jp/keyword/ proposal/20200409 (accessed 25 May 2021). Off, C. and Howden, C. (2020). ‘As it happens’. CBC, 7 May. Available online: https://www. cbc.ca/radio/asithappens/as-it-happens-the-thursday-edition-1.5559642/may-07-2020transcript-1.5563054 (accessed 25 May 2021). Ostrov, B.F. (2021). ‘Conspiracy theory doctor surrenders medical license’. Calmatters.org, 8 February. Available online: https://calmatters.org/health/2021/02/conspiracy-theorydoctor-surrenders-medical-license/ (accessed 25 May 2021). Qin, A., Wang, V., Goldman, R., Buckley, C., Hernández, J., Ramzy, A., Wong, G., Villegas, P., Myers, S. L., May, T., Yu, E., Grady, D., Zraick, K., Rabin, R. C., Zimmer, C., Gladstone, R., Wang, A., Zhang, A., Fu, C., Chen, E., Wang, Y. and Mou, Z. (2020). ‘Coronavirus death toll climbs in china, and a lockdown widens’. The New York Times, 23 January. Available online: https://www.nytimes.com/2020/01/23/world/asia/china-coronavirus.html (accessed 25 May 2021). Rahman, G. (2020). ‘The Wuhan coronavirus has nothing to do with 5G’. Full Fact, 29 January. Available online: https://fullfact.org/online/wuhan-5g-coronavirus/ (accessed 25 May 2021). Reizei, A. (2020). ‘Kiki-kan no hasshin ga katakana ni naru nihongo no fushigi [The mystery of Japanese: Why expressions of a sense of crisis turns into katakana]’. Newsweek Japan, 26 March. Available online: https://www.newsweekjapan.jp/reizei/2020/03/post-1155.php (accessed 25 May 2021). Reuters Institute. (2020). Digital News Report 2020. Reuters Institute. Available online: https:// reutersinstitute.politics.ox.ac.uk/sites/default/files/2020-06/DNR_2020_FINAL.pdf (accessed 25 May 2021). Rothkopf, D.J. (2003). ‘When the buzz bites back’. Washington Post, 11 May. Available online: https://www.washingtonpost.com/archive/opinions/2003/05/11/when-the-buzz-bites-back/ bc8cd84f-cab6-4648-bf58-0277261af6cd/ (accessed 25 May 2021). Shimada, K. (2020). ‘Tayō sareru katakana-go o seikaku ni: Tōjō hindo ya ninchido ni ōjite jūnan’na taiō o [Accuracy required for repeatedly-used Katakana words: Flexible application is needed according to frequency and recognition]’. Shimbun Kenkyu 827: 24–7. Takahashi, R. (2020). ‘Japanese officials say Tokyo is at risk of an “overshoot”, but what exactly does that mean?’. Japan Times, 4 April. Available online: https://www.japantimes. co.jp/news/2020/04/04/national/tokyo-overshoot-coronavirus/ (accessed 25 May 2021). ‘Tōmasu kōen hakase Korona ni tsuite kataru’ [Dr Thomas Cowen talks about corona]. (2020). BitChute, 17 July. Available online: https://www.bitchute.com/video/pdSThL99PZCK/ (accessed 25 May 2021). Wardle, C. (2019). ‘First draft’s essential guide to understanding information disorder’. First Draft News, 16 October. Available online: https://firstdraftnews.org/wp-content/ uploads/2019/10/Information_Disorder_Digital_AW.pdf (accessed 25 May 2021). Weinland, D., Hancock, T., Hille, K., Liu, N., Woodhouse, A., Hammond, G., Lockett, H., Rovnick, N. and Ahuja, A. (2020). ‘China quarantines city in effort to contain viral outbreak’. Financial Times, 23 January. Available online: https://www.ft.com/ content/0925022e-3cd3-11ea-b232-000f4477fbca (accessed 25 May 2021). WHO. (2017). ‘Communicating risk in public health emergencies’. A WHO Guideline for Emergency Risk Communication (ERC) Policy and Practice. World Health Organization. Available online: https://reliefweb.int/sites/reliefweb.int/files/resources/9789241550208eng_0.pdf (accessed 25 May 2021).

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WHO. (2020a). Munich Security Conference. World Health Organization. Available online: https://www.who.int/dg/speeches/detail/munich-security-conference (accessed 25 May 2021). WHO. (2020b). 1st WHO Infodemiology Conference: How Infodemics Affect the World & How They Can Be Managed. World Health Organization. Available online: https://www.who.int/ docs/default-source/epi-win/infodemic-management/infodemiology-scientific-conferencebooklet.pdf (accessed 25 May 2021). Wynne, K. (2020). ‘YouTube video suggests 5G internet causes Coronavirus and people are falling for it’. Newsweek, 19 March. Available online: https://www.newsweek.com/youtubevideo-suggests-5g-internet-causes-coronavirus-people-are-falling-it-1493321 (accessed 25 May 2021). Zarocostas, J. (2020). ‘How to fight an infodemic’. The Lancet 395(10225): 676. Available online: https://www.thelancet.com/journals/lancet/article/PIIS0140-6736(20)30461-X/ fulltext (accessed 25 May 2021). Zollo, F., Bessi, A., Del Vicario, M., Scala, A., Caldarelli, G., Shekhtman, L., Havlin, S. and Quattrociocchi, W. (2017). ‘Debunking in a world of tribes’. PLoS One 12(7): e0181821. Available online: https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0181821 (accessed 25 May 2021).

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CHAPTER FOUR

Translating Personal Narratives of Crisis in Graphic Novels MARIJA TODOROVA AND ZORAN POPOSKI

INTRODUCTION According to UNHCR, there are 25 million refugees throughout the world. In Europe, although the number of refugees and migrants reaching the European Union (EU) had gradually been increasing for some time, it peaked in 2015 when, in only one year, about 1 million forced migrants arrived on European shores, prompting the EU to declare 2015 as the year of the European migrant crisis. This most significant movement of migrants and refugees into Europe since the Second World War was driven by the intensification of conflicts in parts of the world, with more than three-quarters of those arriving in Europe fleeing violence in Syria, Afghanistan and Iraq, but also in Eritrea, Nigeria and Somalia. In the same year, the humanitarian crises resulted in about 3,550 lost lives (Spindler, 2015). Asylum seekers were travelling in hazardous conditions, crossing the Mediterranean Sea in inadequate vessels, looking for safety in Europe, first arriving in Greece or Italy, and then continuing their journey through the Western Balkans and Eastern Europe towards other European states, predominantly Germany and Sweden (UNHCR, 2015a). The response from the European countries was primarily focused on restraint and discouragement. Instead of welcoming the migrants seeking refuge, many European countries closed their borders. They passed restrictive migrant policies to either push the new arrivals away or discourage them from coming. In these conditions, community translation about immigration policies and information flows in refugee camps, such as informative leaflets, posters or signs (Čemerin, 2019: 49–50), was provided mainly from the national language to the refugee languages. In contrast, the rare instances of translating from the refugee languages into the national language occurred mainly for translating official documents, such as birth certificates, ID cards and so on (Taibi and Ozolins, 2016). The negative attitude towards migrants and asylum seekers has also been reflected in the language used by the press and in journalistic narratives, whose ‘coverage of these issues continues to represent asylum, and the asylum system in particular, as a problem’ (Gross et al., 2007: 115). The news media have played a crucial role in presenting the sharp rise of migrants and refugees in Europe as a crisis for Europe and massing all new arrivals into the same category ‘as outsiders, and different from Europeans’ (Georgiou

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and Zaborowski, 2017: 3). In Italy, the journalistic narrative framed the arrival of forced migrants as an emergency and failed to cover ‘the causes of the displacement or the needs in terms of reception and accommodation but only [relying] on imagery in which the migrant and the refugee are a burden’ (Federici, 2020: 254). In most news coverage, there was little information about the individual stories of migrants and refugees, ‘their lives and cultures; thus information about who these people actually are was absent or marginal’ (Georgiou and Zaborowski, 2017: 3). Countering these negative and depersonalized representations, first-person narratives of immigrants and asylum seekers allow for more complex insight into their lives. This chapter looks at three first-person refugee graphic novels for young adults with the aim of highlighting the multifaceted role translation practices play in presenting refugee narratives in a way that allows for the development of empathy.

TRANSLATING THE REFUGEE CRISIS IN GRAPHIC NOVELS FOR YOUNG ADULTS Amid the rather negative public representation of refugees, migrants and asylum seekers, many nongovernmental organizations and advocacy projects, as well as journalists and artists, have attempted to counter the predominantly depersonalized accounts in the news media by using alternative means. Within the so-called ‘cultural apparatus of human rights’ (Nayar, 2011), individuals and groups started organizing cultural representations of refugees ‘in art galleries, museums or plays [ … to] compete with hostile media scares over bogus asylum seekers scrounging welfare benefits’ (Pupavac, 2008: 270). Situated in opposition to the dominant news media discourse and photojournalistic images through which the refugee crisis is mediated to the unaware readership, comics and graphic novels, due to their reportage mode and realistic illustrations, have been seen by many as a valuable tool in reinstating individuality and evoking empathy by presenting personalized refugee and migrant stories. The creation of these graphic novels relies on getting to know the refugee life story, translating it from the refugee’s language into the host country’s language and presenting it in a book format for the host population. Empathizing with the refugee is an essential skill for everyone involved in these processes in order to maximize the impact (Todorova, 2020a). Comics are defined as ‘juxtaposed pictorial and other images in deliberate sequence, intended to convey information and/or produce an aesthetic response in the viewer’ (McCloud, 1993: 9). They have become a globally recognizable generic term for the hybrid genre that encompasses the visual and the verbal, including various traditions from around the world, such as the comic strip, bande dessinée, fumetti, tebeo and manga (see Labio, 2011). The field has been extended to incorporate graphic novels, defined as ‘book-length comic books that are meant to be read as one story’ (Weiner, 2012: xi). Comics have experienced a revival since the late 1980s with the publication of influential graphic novels such as Art Spiegelman’s Pulitzer Prize–winning Maus (1987), a personal account of war, trauma and exile. In this context, publishers and advocacy organizations have noticed the potential in using comics and graphic novels to represent the human face of the refugee crisis as they are ‘well placed to counter the tendencies of news media and policy debates that render the individual experiences of refugees invisible’ (Mickwitz, 2020: 278). Mickwitz distinguishes between ‘comics presenting refugee narratives from the first-person perspective of the refugee and those adopting a journalistic approach’ (2020: 280). A recent example of the journalistic approach to refugee narratives in graphic

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novels is Kate Evans’ Threads from the Refugee Crisis (2017), documenting the author’s stay at Calais in the improvised refugee settlement known as ‘the Jungle’, at the very peak of the European migrant crisis. On the other hand, graphic works that position the refugee as the central point of the narrative are more common, where authors collaborate with refugees in presenting their stories in the language of the host country. Recent examples of this second approach include graphic novels such as Karrie Fransman’s Over Under Sideways Down (2014), commissioned by the Red Cross in the UK, and L’Odyssée D’Hakim (2018) by Fabien Toulmé. A similar revival of comics and graphic novels can also be evidenced in the field of children’s and young adult fiction. Graphic novels for children and young adult readers have been identified as one of the most significant transformations taking place in literature for children and young adults at the beginning of the new millennium (see Tarbox and Abate, 2017). Literature for children and young adults has also changed to offer more ‘psychological insight into children’s responses to trauma’ (Lathey, 2005: 62) from a child’s perspective or by the children themselves. Seeing the experience of the refugee child in a first-person narrative is a powerful tool for raising awareness about the trauma caused by war and the dangers of the refugee escape trip, as well as the refugee life in new surroundings. On the other hand, as victim narratives and images of suffering are central in the refugee stories, Mickwitz has expressed concern that they may ultimately contribute to a different form of silencing the refugees, namely to ‘reassure the relatively privileged and powerful about their capacity to care [rather] than to affect meaningful change’ (2020: 288). While acknowledging the danger of such appropriation of the refugees’ narrative, it is also true that through comics and graphic novels, ‘readers who may be unfamiliar with refugee camps [can] envision tents, schools, and daily surroundings that may look different than what they are used to’ (Jamieson, 2021). Rather than offering a comprehensive survey of all refugee graphic novels for young adults, this chapter focuses on three case studies presented in more detail, which account for three different approaches towards translation in representing the refugee crisis as a personalized narrative. Translation is understood here in its broad meaning of interlingual but also intersemiotic and intercultural practice. The process of translation is primarily examined through the text, illustrations and paratext. The analysis of the graphic novel is supplemented with structured and semi-structured interviews conducted over the internet with eight of the authors and illustrators who described the process of creation for each of the books, respectively. In comparing the three graphic novels, we hope to initiate a discussion about the need for rehumanizing crisis through translated personal narratives. In our analysis of the translation of refugee narratives for graphic novels, we have chosen to focus on three case studies of recent examples of what may turn out to be an emerging genre, namely When Stars Are Scattered (2020), by Victoria Jamieson and Omar Mohamed; Illegal (2017), by Eoin Colfer and Andrew Donkin, illustrated by Giovanni Rigano; and Black and White Lives: Now a Refugee – Always Human (2017), by Verce Karanfiloska, Marija Gegoska and Saranda Mehmedi, illustrated by Aleksandra Ristovska, Kristijan Popovski, Marko Stojanovski and Sandra Simonovska. Structured email-based interviews were conducted with Victoria Jamieson, Eoin Colfer, Andrew Donkin and Giovanni Rigano. Semi-structured online interviews were conducted with Marija Gegoska, Saranda Mehmedi and Kristijan Popovski, as well as Black and White Lives’ project manager, Maja Cvetanoska. Consent to use data from the interviews was obtained from all interviewees based on information provided about the aims of the research and publication venue.

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The first two graphic novels in our analysis were published in English in the US and UK, respectively, and were both written by award-winning authors. The third book in our study is a compilation of three short stories that can be read together and was written and illustrated by young people, namely eighteen- and nineteen-yearold university students. This third graphic novel was simultaneously published in three languages: Macedonian, Albanian and English. The three graphic novels analysed in this chapter present the harsh reality of the refugee’s journey through compelling narratives told in the first person by the main protagonist who is a child or a young adult. Their narratives can be divided into three formats: autobiographical, biographical and fictional. Based on these formats, we will discuss self-translation, creative translation and transcreation. Although the source does not exist in the form of a physical book or a text, all three books are based on real-life source stories of refugees who speak a language different than that of the graphic novel’s target reader. Additionally, the protagonists in these graphic novels apparently communicate in a language different from the target readers’ language so the book can be viewed as a translation. In this context, the authors themselves take up the role of translators of the refugee stories. The illustrators transform the refugees’ narratives into visual representations, allowing us to examine the process of intersemiotic translation.

AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL NARRATIVES Many graphic novels for young adults centred on refugees’ lives use first-person narratives. However, only a small portion of them is told by the refugees themselves. This first-person description of the author’s experiences, seen as the truth about themselves, constitutes an autobiography (Anderson, 2001). The autobiographical format of a work is important as it helps bring into focus the relationship between individual memories and the larger official narratives. While often met with scepticism from historians, who prefer dealing with official documents and grand narratives that form part of the school curricula, autobiographical narratives can serve as an important addition to the historical analysis of the consequences of conflict and crises, as these micro-narratives can shed light on the influence of conflict on the lives of individuals (Todorova, 2017). One of the most recent young adult graphic novels written by a refugee is When Stars Are Scattered (2020), authored by Victoria Jamieson and Omar Mohamed. The graphic novel presents the childhood of Omar Mohamed and his younger brother Hassan, who spent fifteen years in the Dadaab refugee camp in Kenya before being resettled to the United States. The two young boys from Mareerey lost their father and were separated from their mother during the civil war in Somalia. Although most of the novel’s events happen while the two boys are in the Dadaab refugee camp, we get to know about their plight and the journey to Kenya from Omar’s recollection of the events in which he gives an illustration of the very definition of a refugee as a person trying to escape war, death and prosecution and to find safety: ‘[t]here was too much fighting…] everywhere in Somalia [so] we had to find someplace safe’ (Jamieson and Mohamed, 2020: 186). When Stars Are Scattered is written in English. However, it is interesting to note that the foreign language symbols less than and greater than are used to denote when a character is speaking in English (Jamieson and Mohamed, 2020: 26). English appears to be a foreign language for Omar, thus allowing us to conclude that the rest of the dialogues between Omar and the other refugees in the camp are conducted in a language other than English, presumably Somali. Jamieson stated that she ‘wanted to convey that although the book is

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written in English, this was not the language commonly spoken outside of school’ (2021). The need to learn English and get an education is one of the central issues in When Stars Are Scattered. Omar soon realizes that most school classes in Dadaab apart from some Arabic and Kiswahili [Swahili] classes are conducted in English, and his education depends on his willingness and aptitude to learn English. Education in the refugee camp is in English because the refugee kids in the camp are from many different countries, including Ethiopia, Sudan, Somalia, and ‘English is something everyone can understand’ (Jamieson and Mohamed, 2020: 48). He is frustrated at first, ‘everything in school is in English, so I barely understand anything… maybe I should just give up’ (Jamieson and Mohamed, 2020: 57) but learning English has helped Omar settle in the United States, find a job and graduate from college. Being able to tell his story in English has helped him ‘educate young people in the US about refugees’ lives’ (Mohamed, 2021). If we look at writing in a second language as a process of translation, ‘where the writer translates both language and self’ (Evangelista, 2013: 178), then the autobiographical narrative is intrinsically linked to the concept of self-translation (auto-translation), as the author is involved in telling his story in his second language. Evangelista defines selftranslation as a ‘translation process occurring when a bilingual writer chooses to write in a second or acquired language, translation thereby forming an integral part of the “original” creative writing process’ (Evangelista, 2013). The act of self-translating allows the author to use his own voice when speaking to his audiences (Hokenson and Munson, 2007). Omar Mohamed takes up a double role as the author and the translator at the same time. The self-translator also acts as a cultural mediator, explaining the refugee’s culture, in this case, in the form of religious practice interwoven throughout the novel. We listen to a call for prayer announced over loudspeakers; Omar studies the Quran and observes Ramadan, participating in the refugee camp’s ‘big Eid prayer’ with ‘thousands of people’ (Jamieson and Mohamed, 2020: 149). The religious activities are explained for the readers who might not be familiar with Islam. Furthermore, the reader encounters some Somali words throughout the text. Often those are greetings. One of the most important Somali words in the centre of the story is hooyo. This is the only word pronounced by Hassan, who is non-verbal. Although the reader can make a good guess based on the illustrations, we learn at the end of the story that hooyo means mum in Somali. Additionally, the use of italics to signal non-English words is not adopted in this novel, again signifying that the Somali words are not different from the rest of the dialogue. Omar also uses Somali to tell the story of his traumatic refugee experience in an interview with a UNHCR officer, conducted in English through an interpreter, Salat. Here we get a glimpse of how an interpreted encounter works (Jamieson and Mohamed, 2020: 176). We also see both languages on the page during the interpreted exchange between Somali and English. The co-authorship in this self-translation project displays not only the illustration skills of Victoria Jamieson but also her established position as a highly acclaimed graphic novelist for young adults. In terms of translating the refugee narrative into visuals, Jamieson states that she was guided by the fact she was creating for young readers, so she decided to keep the illustrations simple to read and follow, avoiding more complex layouts that might be distracting to younger audiences. She stated that her primary goal was to communicate the story to the young readers clearly. Similar to the other two graphic novels we discuss in this chapter, in When Stars Are Scattered, we find instances of intersemiotic translation, as Jamieson relied on photographs as source material and inspiration that she transcoded into drawings. These were images she found online while doing her research, as Omar

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didn’t have any photos of his childhood days. The process of creating the illustrations was collaborative, with Omar giving feedback on every illustration to ensure its accurateness: For example, some of the photos I used for reference were taken more recently and did not match what the refugee camp looked like when Omar was a boy. Omar would also draw maps or diagrams when needed, like the layout of his block in the camp or specific tools made and used by the people in the camp. (Jamieson, 2021) The life in the refugee camp depicted in When Stars Are Scattered creates a feeling that the refugees are stuck in limbo, unable to go back home yet also prevented from moving on to a new home. Omar’s solemn testimony to the harsh realities of refugee life illustrates his frustration over not being in control of his circumstances and the accompanying worries of self-survival and providing for others. He poignantly shares what being a refugee means in terms of feelings of constant fear and worry: Being a refugee means I am always worried about my brother. He needs medical treatment, but the doctors here can’t stop his seizures. Being a refugee means I am worried about Fatuma. Being a refugee means I am worried about my future. If I can’t work, how can I support my family? Fatuma is getting weaker. How can I care for her, and my brother, and still earn money? Being a refugee means you don’t really have a future. (Jamieson and Mohamed, 2020: 228–9)

BIOGRAPHICAL NARRATIVES The second most common type of first-person graphic novels that tell refugee stories are the ones in which the author uses a real or fictionalized protagonist to tell a story as heard from a refugee, who often wishes to remain anonymous, or based on biographical research. Biographical narratives, in general, fall within the two broad categories of fictional and factual. While both fictional and non-fictional biographies are based on extensive research, they are still considered as ‘conceived in a process of interpreting the evidence’ (Schabert, 1982: 3) and presenting facts in an imaginative and creative way. Because of this nature of the biographical text ‘to invite creative engagement’, the translation process linked to it is often discussed as creative (Boase-Beier, 2007: 55). Within this framework, we can examine the graphic novel Illegal (2017), by Eoin Colfer and Andrew Donkin, illustrated by Giovanni Rigano, as a creatively translated biography of the twelve-year-old boy Ebo and his traumatic journey from his native village in Ghana through Niger and the Sahara Desert and across the Mediterranean Sea to a reception centre on the coast of Italy. And although Ebo’s story is one of a socio-economic migrant, a child’s journey to reunite with family and find safety in Europe, it still is a narrative that distinctly marks the European migrant crisis. According to the authors, Illegal was inspired by news stories about the sinking of migrant-carrying ships from Africa during the peak of the European migrant crises. The authors found these news reports about migrant deaths to be ‘not very detailed’ (Colfer, 2021) and ‘short, impersonal, and just carr[ying] an approximate number of people thought to be missing or dead’ (Donkin, 2018). Thus, the authors decided to take one person on that ship and tell their story in a graphic novel platform to reach

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‘fans who might otherwise not see this information’ (Colfer, 2021). Although the authors acknowledge in the afterword that ‘Ebo’s story is a work of fiction’, using fictional or composite protagonists to narrate and depict actual events, they also stress that ‘every separate element of [the story] is true’ and that all places in the story are real. In the same way that a non-fiction biography ‘record[s] what, according to the evidence, must have happened in a course of a person’s life’ (Schabert, 1982: 7), this account of a migrant experience asserts its authenticity through interviews with refugees and detailed research: We undertook a huge amount of research for this book to make sure that we got every single detail (big and small) as true to life as we could [and] although Ebo is not a real person, we knew that we had a great responsibility to tell this story as accurately and honestly as we could. (Donkin, 2021) The research mentioned above could not have been performed without the translation of migrant and refugee personal narratives that allowed the book to be written in English. This is most probably not the language that Ebo and Kwame use to talk to each other but the only other languages mentioned over the entire trip are a short ‘I’m sorry’ marked as Yoruba from one of the other passengers (Colfer and Donkin, 2017: 75) and ‘The harness goes round your chest. Just stay still. Let me guide you up’ in Italian from one of the coast guards at the Italian coast (Colfer and Donkin, 2017: 103). So, as evidence for factual verification of the story, which, unlike the autobiographical account needs to prove its historical authenticity perpetually, the book also includes one shorter comic presented on five pages in black and white. Titled Journey: Helen’s Story, this additional narrative in Illegal presents the traumatic journey of Helen (presumably Ebo’s older sister) from Eritrea to Italy, then on to Calais in France and eventually to the UK. Although we don’t know the language that Ebo and Kwame speak, we know that Helen presented her story in English (Donkin, 2021). According to Donkin, the decision to include this additional comic was based on the authors’ desire to have a refugee survivor tell the story about their journey in their own voice: Helen’s story is there for two main reasons. We wanted to make sure that our readers knew that the events of Ebo’s story (although they are incredible) actually happened to thousands of people. They were real events. Secondly, we wanted to have a section of the book where the voice of a survivor (of that journey) could speak directly to the reader… We took the interview with Helen and adapted it into a comic strip format, but every single word is Helen’s. (2021) Unlike Ebo’s story, which is presented in colour, Helen’s story is visualized solely in black and white, with quite a few of the visuals depicting her facial expressions in front of the camera during the interview. This design choice brings to mind grayscale photojournalistic images from the press, with their claim to an unaltered representation of reality, which, according to the authors, was the desired intention: In our previous work, we realised that even though we had inserted genuine environmental issues into the books, readers tended to dismiss them as part of a

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fantasy story. We did not want this to happen with Illegal. We were determined that our readers would realise that people were undertaking Ebo’s journey every day, so we presented Helen’s Story in a very typically journalistic black and white fashion so that it would be obvious to all that it was one hundred per cent true. We didn’t change a single word. (Colfer, 2021) The insistence of using the very words as uttered by the speaker, that is, the absence of translation in this last comic, only confirms the presence of creative translation in the previous graphic novel. The illustrator also stresses the need to stay true to the harsh reality of the refugee life as represented in the graphic novel. The authenticity of representation was the guiding principle in choosing a realistic illustration style and the depiction of the environments mentioned in the graphic novel, including the protagonists’ clothes and other objects, sourced primarily from photographs found online. All characters in the graphic novel, although fictional, were developed from pictures of real refugees: Since the story is strongly connected to real events, we opted for a realistic art style to keep it believable, with enhanced expressions and facial shapes – for example, the big eyes of Ebo, the protagonist – to help the younger readers relating with the characters… I also tried to give a personality to all the side characters – i.e., the ones who appear in just one panel or in a crowd. This was especially challenging, but I wanted the reader to imagine their backstories… The intent was to keep the emotional impact of such a dramatic experience. (Rigano, 2021) The ultimate aim of using the format of the graphic novel was to spread awareness about the dangers faced by migrants on their way to European shores but also to encourage empathy in their young readers: ‘if we could make our readers feel empathy for one person in the boat, then that would perhaps change the head-numbing statistics into human beings’ (Donkin, 2018). The authors report receiving many letters from readers saying how the book has touched them. ‘Many migrants, some survivors of that difficult journey, have said that they are very grateful that such a book that tells their story exists’, states Donkin (2021). This sentiment is echoed by the illustrator: Readers had really empathic reactions in every country this book has been published. I think this is because, although Illegal tells a story connected to the Mediterranean area, migration is a global phenomenon. Many people know migrants or have a story of migration in their families. They read newspapers and see how tragic it could be. This helps to make a specific story universal. (Rigano, 2021) The story ends in Italy as Italy is the destination and first port of many refugees crossing the Mediterranean during the European migrant crisis. Apart from this, the story has a personal connection for the Italian illustrator of the graphic novel: Not only because in Italy migration is a much-discussed topic, but also because my mother’s family is from Pozzallo – a nice town in the southern part of Sicily where

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many migrants land and get their first aid – and, even if it’s not mentioned in the book, that’s the place where our story ends. As a child, I’ve spent many summers there, and the sand on the shoreline is brought by the wind directly from the Sahara Desert. Borders are made by humans. (Rigano, 2021)

FICTIONAL NARRATIVES The last type of first-person narrative we focus on in our analysis of refugee graphic novels is that of a fictional narrative presenting a refugee story through the author’s imagination using an intertextual approach. In these fictional biographic narratives, ‘the outer world of biographical fact is seen in reference not to history but to an inner world which is the creation of the novelist’ (Schabert, 1982: 4). In this type of narrative, the author translates real-life stories through a creative interpretation of the original, deliberately adding their own voice into the narrative, eventually producing a transcreation (Katan, 2016). This is exemplified in a comic-book collection of three refugee stories created by the representatives of the very audience they are intended to serve, namely young adults. Seven sophomore students from North Macedonia were involved in the writing, illustration and translation of Black and White Lives: Now a Refugee – Always Human (2017), commissioned by UNHCR. In terms of their motives for writing the book, the students say that they felt ‘very confused about the refugee crisis, all the news media reports, and wanted to learn more and create [their] own opinion about the refugee crisis’ (Popovski, 2021). With the emergence of the European migrant crisis, North Macedonia became the host of an increasing number of refugees and asylum seekers from Afghanistan, Pakistan, Somalia and especially Syria (UNHCR, 2015b). They mainly crossed the Greek-Macedonian border near the southern town of Gevgelija. They passed through Macedonian territory to reach the Serbian border on their way to the EU, with only a smaller number of these refugees deciding to settle in North Macedonia permanently. More than 50,000 refugees took shelter in two refugee camps in North Macedonia in 2015, under the UNHCR’s increased and strengthened presence (Todorova, 2020b). In 2017 UNHCR Skopje organized the awareness-raising campaign ‘Now a Refugee – Always Human’ funded by the European Union, with the goal of heightening solidarity and empathy with the refugees and familiarizing the citizens of North Macedonia with refugee lives and rights. As part of the campaign, students from the Ss. Cyril and Methodius University in Skopje were engaged to work on a comic book presenting refugee lives. The comic book was finalized in December 2017 after two months of intensive work. It was exhibited at the National Library in Skopje and distributed for free throughout the country in the two most spoken languages, Macedonian and Albanian. The comics were first written in the Macedonian language and then translated into Albanian and English by the authors themselves in a collaborative effort. The writing of the stories was to be based on an interview process with refugees in the Vizbegovo Camp. Students were supposed to get to know refugees’ personal stories to be translated and adapted to comics. However, due to growing animosity against the refugees, the students could not conduct these face-to-face visits. As a replacement strategy, they attended workshops where they ‘learnt more about the refugees in general, and about Syria in particular, as the cradle of ancient culture, with special architecture, history, etc.’ (Mehmedi, 2021). The gaps in the real-life refugee narratives were filled

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with the authors’ creative imagination and personal experiences while facts are ‘made to operate as constituent parts of an aesthetic structure’ (Schabert,1982: 4–5). Three short comics were developed: ‘The Boy with a Rug Desire’, written by Verche Karafiloska and illustrated by Marko Stojanovski; ‘On the Trail of a Dream’, written by Saranda Mehmedi and illustrated by Sandra Simonovska; and ‘Pearl of the Desert’, written by Marija Gegoska and illustrated by Kristijan Popovski and Aleksandra Ristovska. All three stories are centred on a single main topic: the journey of Syrian refugees to European countries that leads them to pass through North Macedonia. The following analysis takes a closer look at the last two stories. In the second story, ‘On the Trail of a Dream’, the main protagonist is Payman, a teenage girl who lives in a refugee camp with her litter brother and dreams to become a writer. The subtitle reads ‘inspired by a true story’, as it was motivated by two UNHCR English language videos about a real Syrian refugee girl at a refugee camp in northern Iraq that the author, Saranda Mehmedi, discovered during her research. However, the narrative presented in the comic is a result of the creative imagination and intertextual references introduced by Saranda. According to the author, Payman’s story ‘immediately reminded me of Anne Frank, and I imagined a dialogue between Payman and Anne Frank’ (Mehmedi, 2021). Although the story of Payman and that of Anne Frank are from two different historical periods, what is shared by both is the underlying narrative of war and persecution. Furthermore, for Saranda, it was ultimately crucial that despite history repeating itself, ‘we can change how we respond to it’ (Mehmedi, 2021). The idea for including Anne Frank came to Saranda from her experience that ‘young people all know Anne Frank who is a required reading at school so I thought that it would be good to make the connection and Payman to have a friend to talk to in her isolation and loneliness’ (Mehmedi, 2021). The third story in the comic book is titled ‘The Pearl of the Desert’ and centres on the harrowing refugee journey of little Ammar’s family. It is also a ‘more personal story’ (Gegoska, 2021), as some events in the narrative were inspired by the personal history of the author’s grandfather, who was a refugee during the Greek Civil War in 1948. When writing the story, Marija Gegoska drew on these stories her grandfather used to tell her when she was little and translated them into the contemporary context of the Syrian war: ‘A lot of the context of what it means to be a refugee I have in my home. It was part of my upbringing, of my childhood. The latest refugee crisis brought similar, or sometimes even the same, stories. So, the whole creation of the narrative for me was more private, personal’ (Gegoska, 2021) Furthermore, the personal experience is also at the heart of the comic’s intersemiotic translation, as its illustrator Kristijan Popovski was himself a displaced person during the 2001 conflict in North Macedonia when he was just seven years old. Some of his illustrations were based on photos of the 2001 conflict. Again, as in the previous two graphic novels discussed above, we find the illustrators drawing on photojournalism as a source for translating photographic imagery into drawings. Kristijan stated that he spent a lot of time researching and gathering visual documentation before proceeding to draw the illustrations: ‘I had to see more graphic images to feel the moment and how to present it’ (Popovski, 2021). Unlike the previous two graphic novels printed in colour, the illustrations in Black and White Lives are in greyscale only. For the illustrator Kristijan, this lack of colour in the illustrations was a narrative tool that served to highlight the intense emotions in the story and the gravity of the refugee situation but also drew on ‘the

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polarities of human existence, some happy and some tragic, and the stereotypes about the refugees that are black or white’ (Popovski, 2021.). As in the previous two graphic novels discussed above, the young writers and illustrators of Black and White Lives engaged in a highly collaborative translation process, where the illustrations were not just secondary to the text but also fed back into the narrative and influenced the writing as well. Ultimately this collaborative creative process proved to be transformative as well as inspiring, as the illustrator Kristijan states: Being part of a group and sharing this experience helped me. The project helped us deepen our feeling of humanism and helped us feel better about ourselves. It created empathy and a sense that what happens to others could happen to us. Some people told me it was difficult to read the stories because they presented the tragedies of children. But a refugee said he was happy that people talked about what he and his family had gone through. (Popovski, 2021)

CONCLUSION Refugee graphic novels are used as a powerful tool to present real-life experiences of forced migrants that have been overshadowed by media and government narratives of humanitarian crisis. In doing so, they can reconstruct personal journeys, translate and document extensive research, and even intertwine real and imagined experiences. With their presentation of painful aspects of the past, the graphic novels combine snapshots of violent historical events portrayed in more documentary terms with feelings and insight. Even though these narratives might not always aspire to complete historical accuracy, first-person accounts of tragedy help weave a tale of social trauma, which may go against the grain of the official macro-historical narratives depicted in the media and by government agencies. The translation processes involved in (re)narrating the refugees’ life stories can be categorized into three different approaches based on the three different types of firstperson narratives. The narrative closely based on the authors’ self-biography uses the techniques of self-translation where the source culture is distinctly preserved and some of the original words are present in the dialogues. The translation of a factual biography uses a creative translation strategy allowing for ways to prove the authenticity of the presented facts. Finally, the fictionalized biography relies on transcreation that incorporates the voice and experiences of the translator moving the translated text even closer to the readers and their experiences. The use of graphic novels to tell refugee life stories involves one more mode of translation: transcoding the narrative story into visual representation. The illustrators rely heavily on using photographs, thereby engaging in an additional step of transcoding from a digital photographic image into a realistic drawing. Furthermore, all three case studies are examples of collaborative co-creation and translation where neither the text nor the image have primacy but are created in an iterative process where the source informs the target and the target also in turn influences the source. Finally, the refugee child story is a powerful tool in peacebuilding as represented through the translation. It ‘subverts the notion of “one country, one language, one nation”’ (Mwikisa and Dikobe, 2009: 55) and brings forth the stories that speak to our

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common humanity and develop empathy. The refugee graphic novels for children and young adults recount the traumatic stories of refugee children to transform and change the level of awareness among young adults and help them become conscious of the consequences of war and trauma. In all three instances analysed in this chapter, the process is based on the intention to create empathy, as readings based on personal life stories are often capable of transforming the recipients, for young people ‘can experience trauma by listening to testimony about trauma’ (Felman, 1995, cited in Hungerford, 2001: 73). For young readers, these literary testimonies of war and trauma can become part of their own experience and provide knowledge of the traumatic event that counters the macronarrative. Further research would be needed to explore the possible ‘generational rift’ in attitudes towards refugees and immigrants, based on early exposure to first-person refugee graphic novels.

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Hungerford, A. (2001). ‘Memorizing memory’. The Yale Journal of Criticism 14(1): 67–92. Jamieson, V. (2021). 17 February. Email Interview. Jamieson, V. and Mohamed, O. (2020). When Stars Are Scattered. New York: Dial Books. Karanfiloska, V., Gegoska, M. and Mehmedi, S. (2017). Black and White Lives: Now a Refugee – Always Human. Skopje: UNHCR. Available online: https://issuu.com/unhcrsee/ docs/strip_en_web_01_2018 (accessed 22 February 2021). Katan, D. (2016). ‘Translation at the Cross-roads: Time for the transcreational turn?’ Perspectives: Studies in Translatology 24(3): 365–81. Labio, C. (2011). ‘What’s in a name? The academic study of comics and the “graphic novel”’. Cinema Journal 50(3): 123–26. Lathey, G. (2005). ‘Autobiography and history: Literature of war’. In K. Reynolds (ed.), Modern Children’s Literature: An Introduction, 58–73. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. McCloud, S. (1993). Understanding Comics: The Invisible Art. New York: Harper Collins. Mehmedi, S. (2021). 19 January. Online Interview. Mickwitz, N. (2020). ‘Comics telling refugee stories’. In D. Davies and C. Rifkind (eds), Documenting Trauma in Comics: Traumatic Pasts, Embodied Histories and Graphic Reportage, 277–96. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Mwikisa, P. W. and Dikobe, M. M. (2009). ‘Stories and literature in culture as sources of indigenous insights in peacebuilding and development’. Journal of Peacebuilding and Development, 4(3): 46–56. Nayar, P. (2011). ‘Subalternity and translation: The cultural apparatus of human rights’. Economic and Political Weekly 46(9): 23–6. Popovski, K. (2021). 19 January. Online Interview. Pupavac, V. (2008). ‘Refugee advocacy, traumatic representations and political disenchantment’. Government and Opposition 43(2): 270–92. Rigano, G. (2021). 17 February. Email Interview. Schabert, I. (1982). ‘Fictional biography, factual biography, and their contaminations’. Biography 5(1): 1–16. Spiegelman, A. (1987). Maus. New York: Pantheon Books. Spindler, W. (2015). ‘2015: The year of Europe’s refugee crisis’. UNHCR. Available online: https://www.unhcr.org/news/stories/2015/12/56ec1ebde/2015-year-europes-refugee-crisis. html (accessed 22 February 2021). Taibi, M. and Ozolins, U. (2016). Community Translation. London: Bloomsbury. Tarbox, G. A. and Abate, M. A. (2017). ‘Introduction’. In G. A. Tarbox and M. A. Abate (eds), Graphic Novels for Children and Young Adults: A Collection of Critical Essays, 3–16. Jackson: University Press of Mississippi. Todorova, M. (2017). ‘Children’s voices from war zones: Muted by adult mediation’. Bookbird 55(2): 20–7. Todorova, M. (2020a). ‘Interpreting for refugees: Lessons learned from the field’. In E. N. S. Ng and I. Crezee (eds), Interpreting in Legal and Healthcare Settings, 63–81. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Todorova, M. (2020b). ‘Interpreting for refugees: Empathy and activism’. In C. Declercq and F. M. Federici (eds), Intercultural Crisis Communication: Translation, Interpreting and Languages in Local Crises, 153–73. London: Bloomsbury. Toulmé, F. (2018). L’Odyssée D’Hakim. Paris: Delcourt. UNHCR. (2015a). ‘Global trends: Forced displacement in 2015’. Available online: http://www. unhcr.org/576408cd7.pdf (accessed 22 February 2021).

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UNHCR. (2015b). Поранешната југословенска Република Македонија како земја на азил: Забелешки за состојбата со барателите на азил и бегалците во поранешната југословенска Република Македонија [Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia as a Country of Asylum: Comments on the Situation of Asylum Seekers in Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia]. Geneva: UNHCR. Weiner, S. (2012). Faster than a Speeding Bullet: The Rise of the Graphic Novel. 2nd edition. New York: NBM Publishing.

CHAPTER FIVE

The Perspectives of Military Personnel on Interpreters in Violent Conflicts CARMEN VALERO GARCÉS

INTRODUCTION: INTERPRETING IN CONFLICT CONTEXTS This chapter is dedicated to exploring the role(s) of interpreters involved in violent conflicts and their relationship with the Spanish Armed Forces (SAF). While the definition of an interpreter might be crystal clear for professionals in translation and interpreting (T&I) studies, in the fog of war, the definition is not clear at all. It becomes fuzzy in a context where the risk of instability is common. In military jargon, ‘interpreter’ is commonly used to designate any person able to establish any kind of communication between two different languages regardless of his or her education, training, skills and level of expertise (Ruiz Rosendo and Persaud, 2016: 2). The role of interpreters and translators (I/Ts) in conflict zones has traditionally been analysed within T&I studies, from different perspectives: historical (Baigorri Jalón, 2015, 2019; Delisle and Woodsworth, 2012; Takeda and Baigorri Jalón, 2016), ethical (Delgado Luchner and Kherbiche, 2018; Inghilleri, 2008, 2009) or sociological (C. Baker, 2010a,b; Ruiz Rosendo and Persaud, 2016, 2019). In this chapter, I aim to approach the role of I/Ts from a different perspective by giving voice to military personnel. Data come from interviews with Spanish military personnel involved in overseas operations with I/T support. In order to contextualize this study, I will first analyse Spain’s participation in international armed conflicts from 1998 to 2020. This will be followed by the presentation of the case study about the role(s) and behaviour of I/Ts on Spanish missions in conflict zones from the perspective of the military personnel who have recruited or received service from I/Ts.

SPANISH MILITARY MISSIONS AND THE DEPLOYMENT OF TRANSLATORS AND INTERPRETERS As stated in the Libro Blanco de la Defensa (2000), Spain joined the NATO peacekeeping missions in December 1988. Since then, over a hundred thousand soldiers of the Spanish Armed Forces (SAF) have participated in various missions in Africa, America, Europe and Asia. These missions have taken place in interstate conflicts (like Bosnia), internal conflicts

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(such as Somalia and Sudan) or in peace-making missions (such as the wars in Libya and Afghanistan).The majority of the SAF’s overseas missions are located in Africa and South Asia to fight terrorism, piracy, human trafficking and organized crime; to provide humanitarian aid; or to train troops in the country of destination. Usually, the cultures in these countries are significantly different from that of SAF members in cultural, religious and linguistic terms. While trying to carry out the assigned mission, SAF members must face not only geopolitical and demographic challenges but also cultural, religious and linguistic differences about which they may know little or nothing. In these cases, I/Ts become essential in conflict zones in order to reduce the distance between Forces and the local people without interfering in social or religious customs (Baker, 2010; Inghilleri, 2010). Given Spain’s growing participation in international armed conflicts in countries with languages and cultures practically unknown in the country, and given that there is no culture or history of training the armed force members as interpreters, there is an imperative for interpreters to collaborate with SAF. There are at least two reasons why it is difficult to recruit appropriate candidates: 1. There is no official list of I/Ts who collaborate with SAF. 2. There is a lack of training in Spanish universities in the languages and dialects (Arabic dialects, Kurdish, Farsi or Bambara) of conflict zones where SAF operate. Therefore, despite having professional Spanish I/Ts in certain language combinations, local I/Ts are needed to support military personnel. In this chapter, the object of inquiry concerns the relationships of learning between interpreters and military personnel (their users) in conflict zones.

A case study: Objectives and methodology The main objective of the study is to investigate the views of the military personnel who are tasked with recruiting interpreters or those who have interpreters at their command to explore the heterogeneity of situations and the I/T roles generated by the specificity of the context. Data come from five semi-structured conversations with military personnel taken from a database of the FITISPos research group and collected between 2015 and 2019. The interviews were conducted by students and research collaborators of the FITISPos group who were completing their (unpublished) master’s thesis or final degree project in a topic related to interpreting in conflict zones. The anonymized details about interviews and interviewees are summarized in Table 5.1. As for the methodology used, this is a qualitative study based on the premises of the theory of situated learning (Lave and Wenger, 1991) and activity theory (Engeström, 2001, 2005), and the analysis of data coming from different sources as stated above. The interviews were conducted by different interviewers at different times, once the project received ethics approval and the military personnel vetted the interviewers and agreed to take part in the project. All relevant permits were obtained prior to conducting the interviews. For these reasons, the examples included are not exact quotes but rather summaries or adaptations of the notes taken by the interviewers or reflected in their writings. The informants were all army personnel who were responsible for international military missions or who had worked with interpreters in conflict contexts. Although not all interviewees were given the same questionnaire, the common thread running through all the interviews was an interest in the relationship between interpreters and military personnel, how they were recruited, the tasks they were given and what was expected of them.

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TABLE 5.1  Interviewees’ Profiles. Interviewee details

Interviewee reference

Interview with the Spanish Lieutenant Colonel (Teniente Coronel) in charge of hiring interpreters for the peace-making mission in the Lebanon War March 2015 (Valero-Garcés, 2015) 

Interviewee 1

Interview with the military interpreter official with experience in peacekeeping who was assigned to ECMMY-KDOM, on 17 April 2015 (De Luis 2017) 

Interviewee 2

Interview with a military officer who was assigned to MONUSCO, in Bosnia on 25 April 2015 (De Luis 2017) 

Interviewee 3

Interview with the military officer assigned to Bosnia with the SFOR mission in Bosnia, on 5 May 2015 (De Luis 2017) 

Interviewee 4

Interview with the Spanish Lieutenant Colonel of Grupo de Acción Rápida de la Guardia Civil, and a SAF member with fluent knowledge of the target language and culture acting as interpreter in the Afghan War on March 2019 (Asensi 2020) 

Interviewee 5

ANALYSIS AND DISCUSSION Before analysing the data, I would like to point out that this research forms part of an overarching research question based on the main objective of the group FITISPos: the analysis of the quality and challenges of communication in multilingual environments. Some studies on the role of the interpreter in conflict zones from the interpreter’s point of view have already been carried out (Moreno, 2017; Ruiz Rosendo and Barea Muñoz, 2017; Ruiz Rosendo and Persaud, 2019). The main objective of this study is to find out the views of the military personnel who are tasked with recruiting interpreters or those who have interpreters at their command. Special attention is given here to the following topics: recruitment stage, local versus interpreters recruited in Spain, discipline and respect, and the myth of impartiality. From the informants’ replies, it emerges that the relationships between I/Ts and military personnel begin to form during the recruitment stage. Access to or ‘recruitment’ for the I/T posts that accompany the Spanish military on missions abroad is similar to Catherine Baker’s (2010a, b) description of the Bosnian War (BiH) as seen in the following comments by Interviewee 4. According to Interviewee 4, three options are commonly used: (1) peacekeepers bring their own interpreters into the operations area; (2) interpreters are locally hired; or (3) interpreters are permanent members of the SAF, holding either civil or military posts. It is worth expanding on the three options, as discussed by the informants, often in relation to specific, past peacekeeping missions.

Recruitment option 1 This is when peacekeepers bring their own interpreters into the operations area. Interviewee 4 explained that this first option had some advantages because the interpreters recruited at home (Spain) or permanently working for the organization were considered more loyal to the peacekeeping forces and less influenced by the local environment and

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hazards. I/Ts recruited or in full employment within the recruiting forces usually have legal residency (if not nationality itself) in the peacekeepers’ countries. Their legal status ensured that I/Ts would be extracted together with the other organization’s assets in case of hostilities erupting. Logistically, they were lodged, fed and cared for together with the peacekeeper personnel, and usually their wages were higher than those of locally employed I/Ts. Interviewee 4 also focused on some disadvantages, for example, the difficulty in recruiting personnel willing to leave the safety and commodities of the country that deployed the peacekeeping missions to join a dangerous and unpredictable environment. These missions can occur to keep, maintain or restore the peace: I/Ts could face ongoing hostilities, which could go on for long periods of time; furthermore, they may be deployed with SAF in countries from which a number of the I/Ts, or their parents, might have recently migrated. According to Interviewee 4, this option is usually adopted by national military forces who are part of a multinational coalition or alliance (NATO troops, for example), since they must bring in their own logistics (including personnel) and also pay much attention to operations security. He specified that interpreters brought from Spain were subject to international coalition laws and regulations, which gives an extraordinary guarantee for the I/Ts’ loyalty and discipline against any hostile agents trying to steal information from them.

Recruitment option 2 This is when interpreters are hired locally. Interviewee 4 explained that supranational civil or military organizations (like the UN, the EU or NATO) prefer to hire their interpreters locally. Some advantages of this approach include the fact that peacekeepers are instantly provided with extensive knowledge of the local situation as well as significantly simplifying their obligations to the interpreters in case of a force withdrawal or evacuation. In fact, local staff were paid at a much lower rate than internationals brought from abroad, and the organization did not need to provide logistics for them. In case of sudden withdrawal or evacuation they were simply left behind. As a disadvantage, the informant pointed out that the option usually required precaution and special arrangements to prevent the I/Ts from being coerced by hostile local forces and in order to safeguard their commitment to the mission. Furthermore, the informant specified that locally hired I/Ts, even if they performed their duties away from their own hometown, usually lived off-base among the local population, which made them vulnerable. On the one hand, I/Ts were seen by some as lucky, privileged and rich people, having a well-paid job in places where having any job is a luxury, and, on the other hand, I/Ts were marked by others as traitors working for ‘the invader’.

Recruitment option 3 The third option is the most unusual: This is where I/Ts can be permanent members (civil or military) of the SAF or peacekeeping organization. Usually, they are individuals whose mother tongue has, at least, common roots with the local language so they can communicate with an acceptable fluency. Interviewee 4 mentioned as an example the case of Swahili in Africa, Spanish in South America, or knowledge of at least one local and relevant Slavonic language in missions carried out in Central and Eastern Europe. Interviewee 4 confirmed that this option was adopted in preparation for the peacekeeping mission in Bosnia (1992–2010). Interviewee 2 emphasized that in some contexts, such as the mission in Kosovo from 1999 to 2009, the need for language services greatly

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influenced the planning of the whole peacekeeping operations, covering issues ranging from large-scale operations to daily patrols. Interviewee 2 considered that, without the aid of I/Ts, military personnel in their peacekeeping missions became a kind of ‘deaf and dumb’ team moving across countries completely unaware of the operational situation. Interviewee 3 added that all peacekeeping agencies agreed that interpreters were key members of their teams (military patrols, military observers, monitors, officials). He also pointed out that, in manuals and standard operating procedures (SOP), I/Ts were marked as indispensable assets who must be specifically taken into account in the planning and execution of a mission. Interviewee 3 also stressed that the need for I/Ts depended on the type of mission being undertaken, which in turn influenced which recruitment option was adopted to address language issues. Thus, for missions where secrecy was paramount, professional interpreters/soldiers were recruited; however, local civilians were recruited for other types of missions. Interviewee 3 recognized that when permanent members (civil or military) were recruited, it was because they had usually been specifically trained as linguists or they might be specially gifted (e.g. by ancestry) for the job. He added that the linguistic and cultural skills of professional I/Ts recruited into the military ranks, or recruited among civilians, might be lower than the locally hired interpreters, but they are considered more suitable for the type of mission. Interviewee 3 also indicated that the most common situation was that there were individual peacekeepers whose mother tongue had common roots with the local language, so they can communicate with an acceptable level of fluency. The informants’ testimonies showed that the military select I/Ts depending on the needs, requirements and operational specificity of each mission. However, they also underlined how this approach usually led to a lack of available I/Ts, and a lack of time to prepare that aspect of the mission’s logistics carefully, and consequently they had to rely on I/Ts available at that moment. In turn, this recruitment strategy means on-the-job learning for both the I/Ts and the military personnel with whom they liaise. Only once recruited, and during the mission, the learning process and the process of establishing relationships with military personnel begin. This learning process corresponds to what Lave and Wenger (1991) considered as learning accomplished through ‘communities of practice’, which entail collaborative learning, as explained in the following sections.

LOCALLY RECRUITED INTERPRETERS VERSUS INTERPRETERS RECRUITED IN SPAIN The interviews show that military personnel realized at the time of the operations that the I/Ts with whom they collaborated had different strengths and limitations, and not all of them were equally suited to be part of these missions. The military were acutely aware of the singularity of each mission, which prevents generalizing the approach when it comes to the skills, experience and recruitment practices for their interpreters. Interviewee 4 indicated that the Spanish military forces, which joined multinational coalitions or alliances (NATO troops, for example), usually recruited interpreters at home because these forces could bring in their own logistics (including personnel) and also paid a lot of attention to the security of the operations. Interpreters brought from the military’s country remain subject to that country’s laws and regulations, and they could be properly vetted and selected, which provided better guarantees of their loyalty and discipline against any hostile agents trying to steal information from them. However, the reality shows that it is always a balancing act; there is never certainty about such matters. Interviewee 4 also

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explained that, conversely, multinational organizations (like the UN or the EU) that might organize peacekeeping missions with the support of the military preferred to hire their interpreters locally because these interpreters provided the peacekeepers with instant indepth knowledge of the local situation, as well as greatly simplifying their obligations to the interpreters in case of forced withdrawal or evacuation. Nevertheless, he added that that this option usually required precautions and special arrangements to prevent the interpreters from being coerced by hostile local forces and to safeguard their commitment to the mission. Interviewee 4 did not comment on the feeling of trust in the sense that the local interpreters were useful to bridge trust between the local population and the peacekeeping forces. At this point, when referring to evacuation, it is worth reading the interview with Maya Hess, founder and CEO of Red T, denouncing the lack of protection for interpreters involved in violent conflicts (Valero-Garcés, 2019). Since 2010, Hess has been calling for a paradigm shift in how translators and interpreters in conflict zones are perceived and treated, advocating for linguists at risk by promoting policies and laws that protect them on a global scale. In terms of the process of learning, especially for I/Ts, Interviewee 4 specified that (local) interpreters usually learnt the profession during the mission, and both interpreters and military personnel also interacted as in a community of practice. Paraphrasing his words, interpreters develop their interpretation skills working in the field during their first mission, and their learning very much depended on how much experience the peacekeepers had working with interpreters, which was usually not very much. Interviewee 4 also pointed out that local I/Ts trained directly during missions with military personnel from different international forces became extremely adaptable and learnt quickly to work according to different protocols because these I/Ts usually returned to their civilian roles and stayed within their country of origin, while peacekeepers returned from the missions, heading back to their country of origin or to a new mission. This requirement and expectation to adapt and learn quickly includes the interpreters’ ability to work as linguistic and cultural mediators. There is abundant research that shows that interpreters and translators go beyond the act of linguistic and cultural mediation instead of merely adopting simply a neutral stance (Angelelli, 2004; Bancroft, 2017; Inghilleri, 2010; Llewellyn-Jones and Lee, 2014; Runcieman, 2020). As C. Baker (2010a: 173–4) comments, ‘The image of the translator, interpreter or linguist as a neutral facilitator of communication between cultures does not last long in the case of BiH, nor should it elsewhere’. She adds, referring to the BiH conflict, ‘One complication of the neutrality ethic was that military language personnel were deeply involved in achieving military objectives and even local staff were supposed to identify their interests with their military employers’. This quotation raises the question of the impact of the ‘neutrality ethics’ on the performance of the interpreter as military objectives might not coincide with them. What C. Baker calls a ‘complication’ can be better described seen from the military personnel’s perspective and under the umbrella of Lave and Wenger’s (1991) and Engeström’s (2001)’s theories as ‘transformations’ (2001: 133–56). These are necessary for the learning process. The presence of external agents that determine the selection of local or national interpreters also implies a transformation that makes learning possible through what Engeström calls ‘expansive learning’ (2001: 150). The role(s) assigned to the interpreter changes according to the situation. There is no one model, list of tasks or fixed ethical principles (fixed ‘model’) for military interpreters. Interpreters adapt to the situation and learn from the context and the elements, just like military personnel

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learn to work with interpreters and build trust. As a result, there is no specific training for the military personnel in how to work with interpreters. Besides their main objectives of maintaining a high degree of security and remaining loyal to military personnel, there are also economic reasons for recruiting interpreters in different ways. The diverse approaches to recruitment highlight the differences between the distinctive expectations connected to the different types of interpreters. Interviewee 5 remarked that interpreters recruited at home will be lodged, fed and cared for alongside the peacekeepers, and usually their wages will be higher than those of locally employed interpreters. Locally hired interpreters would be paid at a much lower rate, according to the local markets, compared to their international counterparts brought to a mission ‘abroad’ with all their relevant additional costs in terms of liability, insurance, higher wages, equipment, safety provisions (e.g. life jackets and so on) and logistics costs to bring them and relevant equipment to the mission abroad from Spain. Recruiting locally, the military or civilian organizations do not need to provide logistics, and if need be, the interpreters are simply left behind. These differences might also have an impact on the learning (perhaps also impeded) with the ‘local interpreters’, with neither side perhaps willing to invest in trustbuilding or more permanent arrangements, which must have ethical implications and imply differences in the learning process, and a series of transformations which either occurred or were thought necessary in retrospect. Moreover, Interviewee 4 comments that interpreters usually live off-base among the local population, which makes them vulnerable. They are also seen by some as lucky, privileged and rich people, having a wellpaid job in places where this is not the standard. At the same time, it is unavoidable that they will be labelled by some others as traitors working for ‘the invader’. The media, both national and international, have echoed that reality on more than one occasion (Galán, 2018; Kohnavard, 2020; De Luce, 2019; Navas, 2013; Shane, 2020). The interpreters (learners) also acquire beliefs and behaviours through the construction of a ‘community of practice’ (in this case, the military mission). Interviewee 3 explains that working as an interpreter with military personnel also requires specific characteristics, which he summarizes as follows: 1. The military world is governed by hierarchy and discipline. 2. Despite the fact that military interpreters are civilians who are not subject to the military hierarchy, in order to work and live with military officers, interpreters should have certain qualities such as respect, discipline and some idea of how the military world works.

Discipline and respect Interviewee 3’s comment that ‘the military world is governed by hierarchy and discipline’ indicates how I/Ts are expected to behave. The next paragraphs illustrate the reasons and motivation behind this comment. Discipline and respect for the hierarchy are crucial in order to avoid any conflict between the community of practice of military officers and interpreters and the (need for the) existence of collective learning. Interviewee 1 provided a good example of this potential tension, when he explained that many military personnel did not know how to treat interpreters as they were not in the military chain of command, which sometimes caused issues. Interviewee 3 emphasized that, while it is true that I/Ts could learn while working with the military staff, having a little previous knowledge about the military life is advisable, as is being in good physical

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shape. For instance, I/Ts often walked together with military personnel for more than fifteen kilometres on some days, and at times, they had to sleep on the floor for a week in the middle of nowhere, in very low temperatures. This practical example could be seen as another example of collaborative learning: military personnel learn how to work with interpreters in situ and I/Ts learn about military life, which forces them to adapt to the circumstances. Thus, learning takes place in a situated context and through cooperation, as well as command and control, which leads to transformation in order to adapt to the situation. As the comment from Interviewee 2 illustrated, locally hired interpreters usually know the safest way to get somewhere, which is beneficial for the mission. Interviewee 2 also suggested that peacekeepers should seek the advice of I/Ts when studying all the available documentation (maps, records, reports, manuals etc.), and both should even check the local media, word-of-mouth information and even gossip (why not?) before dropping into a new environment. This comment takes us to the topic of impartiality.

THE MYTH OF IMPARTIALITY There is historical evidence of tensions and conflicted identities in studies that focus on wars in the twentieth century, and the topic of impartiality is a recurrent issue in the literature on interpreters in conflict zones (Guo, 2015; Ruiz Rosendo, 2019, 2020). With respect to the choice and roles of interpreters in the Second Sino-Japanese War (1931–45), Guo (2015: 2) writes: Their affiliations to the armies and access to information in different languages usually endow them with certain privileges in certain contexts, leaving them more space for mediation. It is not surprising to see that issues such as impartiality and neutrality are reiterated in interpreter recruitment and management on the one hand; on the other hand, those (usually clients and/or locals) who are directly working with interpreters in war zones do recognize and/or appreciate interpreters’ mediation outside of their interpreting work. Ting Gou considers these discrepancies in interpreters’ positions in international wars as border-crossing strategies that might seem to be unprofessional or even calculating by many interpreting practitioners and researchers, but they offer a fruitful perspective for understanding interpreters’ agency. As Guo (2015, 2016) pointed out, the interpreters’ positionality is more complicated than simply doing nothing or siding with one side or the other. In our study, the statements given by military personnel in the interviews imply that they do not see interpreters only as service providers, or as monolithic and static figures limited to conveying information ‘accurately’ and ‘impartially’. There are different ‘types’ or categories of interpreters that must respond to the needs of each mission. These concepts are difficult to define given their meaning can change if there is no single code to govern their behaviour, or regulate their code of conduct in the field. Thus, within the context of this study, the interpreters’ role(s) varies depending on the objectives set by the military personnel, who interpreters are answerable to, and there are different types of recruitment for interpreters and missions with different objectives. Security and loyalty are two essential principles of military life. From this point of view, interpreters are expected to follow orders.

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Culture and religion Culture and religion are elements that can affect impartiality as their influence may lead to misunderstandings and justify the reason why military personnel prefer local interpreters depending on the type of mission. Interviewee 3’s words demonstrate that military personnel were aware of the importance of culture and religion and their possible effect on the I/Ts. According to Interviewee 3’s experience, the military peacekeeper was usually seen by the local population as an invader who did not understand the reality of their situation. Misunderstandings and tense situations could easily arise under these circumstances, and the best way to avoid them was to brief the I/Ts beforehand about the people the peacekeeper was going to talk with, what he or she wanted to discuss and why. Interviewee 3 concluded that if the locals viewed the peacekeeper as well-informed and up-to-date, he would have the advantage of a good first impression. These words also show the interest of the military personnel in maintaining harmony and conveying trust and awareness of the needs of I/Ts. Other military interviewees shared this view. For example, Interviewee 4 remarks that it is essential that both interpreters and military staff create a good mutual synchronism and personal understanding in order for interpreters to give the impression that they are the peacekeeper’s ‘true voice’. These comments explain the reason for certain actions and behaviours while also being examples of collaborative learning and how to learn from and adapt to a situation. However, this reality clashes with the traditional view of impartiality in other contexts, such as legal interpreting. For example, in the EULITA Code of Professional Ethics (2013: 3), we read the following under ‘Impartiality’: ‘Legal interpreters and legal translators shall remain neutral and also maintain the appearance of impartiality, avoiding any undue contacts with either witnesses, defendants and their families or members of the legal professions. Any potential conflict of interest shall be immediately disclosed to the court.’ Teamwork was another element that could affect impartiality. This element is occasionally missing from other contexts in the sense that I/Ts are not considered as part of the team (in a court or medical setting). This seems not to be the case in our study. Interviewee 2 clearly stated that both military personnel and interpreters lived together in the same place, and they constantly learnt from one another. He also added that when interpreters felt they are understood and cared for by the peacekeeper, they were usually able to better interpret the peacekeeper’s words and intended meaning. Based on his experience, Interviewee 2 pointed out that spending leisure time together and talking about their own personal issues and things other than work helped in that sense; in particular, this proximity helped build trust. However, this comment seems to raise another interesting conflict between the local and home-recruited interpreter. If the local interpreter lives at home, then these bonds and the learning from the military personnel are less likely to happen – a topic that may need more research in the future. Conversations with military personnel also reveal that they put the security of the mission before the conduct of I/Ts. And they demanded that I/Ts behave in accordance with their needs and apply the ethical principles of impartiality and accuracy beyond what is specified in codes of ethics. For example, in the code of ethics of Libro Blanco de la Traducción e Interpretación Institucional (2011: 100), we read: ‘Impartiality:… The interpreter or translator shall at all times remain impartial, neutral and independent, preserving his or her independence from any outside interference, demands or interests that could undermine his or her professional work’ (author’s translation).

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From the interviews, it emerged that military personnel are aware of the risks they face when working with I/Ts. To recruit the most appropriate I/Ts, their decisions depend on external factors, such as the type of mission or the type of interpreter that can be contracted. When asked about the impartiality and accuracy of I/Ts, Interviewee 2 explained that military personnel knew that I/Ts often belonged to one of the ethnic, religious or national groups taking part in the conflict and it was unavoidable that the I/Ts felt strongly favourable to the members of their group, so forms of professionalism based on retaining a degree of neutrality will not prevail when working in conflict contexts, within these highly influential (and at times personal) circumstances. Interviewee 2 commented that he knew that often – willingly or instinctively – I/Ts will ‘censor’ speech or writing when they are supposed to translate accurately for the peacekeeper, and the peacekeeper must use a great deal of intuition to detect when such a thing was happening. Telling signs that an interference was taking place, according to Interviewee 2, were often that the source and the translated speech were of different lengths, that the other person’s body language did not match the translated content or that incoherent answers were given.

CONCLUSIONS This chapter explored the relationship between interpreters and military personnel, examining the specific case of the SAF acting in national and international peacekeeping operations or armed conflicts from the perspective of the military personnel. Data came from interviews and conversations with military personnel. Particular attention has been paid to the following topics: recruiting processes, local versus home-recruited I/Ts, discipline and respect, and the myth of impartiality vis-à-vis interpreting in conflict or military environments. Reflecting on the military personnel’s words, the analysis shows that not everything can be taught to interpreters, but many things can be learnt in the field operations. The different categories of interpreters (local or home-recruited) that may accompany the SAF may also have moral and ethical consequences. The expectations of what I/Ts need to know and how they learn in conflict contexts mark some differences between the two categories. Learning in context can be less traumatic and can be seen as alternative forms of training in crisis situations. The informants’ testimonies showed that the SAF selects I/Ts depending on the needs, requirements and operational specificity of each mission. However, they also underlined how this approach usually leads to a lack of available I/Ts and a lack of time to prepare that aspect of the mission’s logistics carefully; consequently, they had to rely on I/Ts available at that moment. These actions seem to present a disconnect in approaches: military personnel expect military interpreters to learn everything on the job, as it is more appropriate, flexible and valuable, but they do not expect their soldiers to learn in this way. After all, even if soldiers only learn what combat is really like once they are in a conflict, they still spend months with the drill sergeant participating in role games, scenarios and training. The performance of I/Ts in conflict zones was analysed from Lave and Wenger’s (1991) theory of situated learning and Engeström’s (2001, 2005) work on activity theory (2001, 2005). Through these perspectives, the analysis shows that I/Ts, while on the mission, learn to develop an understanding of how to ‘be’ in these contexts of instability and change. The I/Ts, as learners, do not acquire a body of facts about the world as, for

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example, when being trained in class. Considering the informants’ testimonies in their interviews, there is a clear indication that I/Ts – and occasionally military personnel – are in a constant horizontal learning process as a community of practice. The learning may be horizontal; however, the community of practice is shaped by the objectives set by the military to achieve the goals of their mission, through the dynamics that are dictated and imposed by the military personnel. The exposure of interpreters’ role(s) in conflict zones, facing unexpected and difficult situations affected by environmental, socio-political, cultural, relational and/or personal factors, may modify their positionality. We have also seen how this double process of learning from one another also results in (or should result in) the military personnel learning from the situation and about how to work with interpreters. These conclusions indicate the potential for the development of identifiable inter- and intra-professional communities of practice between interpreters and military personnel as a way to foster informed approaches to interpreter-mediated activities. Some examples of tangible ideas of tasks that could illustrate ways of embedding the learning in this community at different stages of the training could include practising with simulated war scenarios at home. Another approach would envisage military personnel providing specific linguistic training to (local) interpreters. Alternatively, it is worth considering Snellman’s suggestion (2018: 1) of developing ‘language awareness as well as linguistic support in the long term through cooperation between language experts and soldiers… simultaneously on the tactical, institutional, and political levels’.

REFERENCES Angelelli, C. V. (2004). Revisiting the Interpreter’s Role: A Study of Conference, Court, and Medical Interpreters in Canada, Mexico, and the United States. Amsterdam and Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Asensi, P. (2020). Traducción e Interpretación en Zonas de Conflicto en Colaboración con las Fuerzas Armadas [Translation and Interpretation in Conflict Zones in Collaboration with the Armed Forces]. Final Project Degree in Modern Languages and Translation. Ministerio de Defensa. Baigorri Jalón, J. (2015). ‘The history of the interpreting profession’. In H. Mikkelson and R. Jourdenais (eds), The Routledge Handbook of Interpreting, 11–28. London: Routledge. Baigorri Jalón, J. (2019). Lenguas entre dos fuegos. Intérpretes en la Guerra Civil española (1936–1939) [Tongues Between two Fires: Interpreters in the Spanish Civil War (1936–1939)]. Granada: Comares. Baker, C. (2010a). ‘The care and feeding of linguists: The working environment of interpreters, translators, and linguists during peacekeeping in Bosnia-Herzegovina’. War & Society 29(2): 154–75. Available online: http://eprints.soton.ac.uk/141598/. Baker, C. (2010b). ‘It’s not their job to soldier: Distinguishing civilian and military in soldiers’ and interpreters’ accounts of peacekeeping in 1990s Bosnia-Herzegovina’. Journal of War & Culture Studies 3: 137–50. Baker, M. (2010). ‘Interpreters and translators in the war zone: Narrated and narrators’, The Translator 16(2): 197–222. Bancroft, M. (2017). ‘The voice of compassion: Exploring trauma-informed interpreting’. In C. Valero-Garcés and R. Tipton (eds), Ideology, Ethics and Policy Development in Public Service Interpreting and Translation, 195–219. Bristol, UK: Multilingual Matters.

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De Luce, D. (2019). ‘Only 2 Iraqi translators who worked with U.S. Troops got U.S. Visas last year’. NBC News, 23 August. Available online: https://www.nbcnews.com/news/world/only2-iraqi-translators-who-worked-u-s-troops-got-n1035661 (accessed 5 March 2021). De Luis, J. L. (2017). ‘Translators/Interpreters in Peacekeeping Operations: Legal, Ethical and Operational Issues’. Final Project. Degree in Modern Languages and Translation. University of Alcalá. Unpublished. Delgado Luchner, C. and Kherbiche, L. (2018). ‘Without fear or favour? The positionality of ICRC and UNHCR interpreters in the humanitarian field’. Target 30(3): 408–29. Delisle, J. and Woodsworth, J. (2012). Translators Through History, 2nd edition. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Engeström, Y. (2001). ‘Expansive learning at work: Toward an activity theoretical reconceptualization’. Journal of Education and Work 14(1): 133–56. Engeström, Y. (2005). Developmental Work Research: Expanding Activity Theory in Practice. Berlin: Lehmanns Media. EULITA (2013). Code of Professional Ethics. Available online: https://eulita.eu/wp-content/ uploads/files/EULITA-code-London-e.pdf (accessed 30 June 2021). FITISPos. Formación e investigación en Traducción e Interpretación en los Servicios Públicos. Website: https://fitisposgrupo.web.uah.es Galán, M. (2018). ‘El intérprete, el gran olvidado en zonas bélicas [The interpreter, the great forgotten in war zones]’. ElDiario.es, 8 May. Available online: https://www.eldiario.es/ opinion/tribunaabierta/interpretegranolvidadozonasbelicas_129_2128699.html (accessed 5 March 2021). Guo, T. (2015). ‘Interpreting for the enemy: Chinese interpreters in the second sino-japanese war (1931–1945)’, Translation Studies 1(8): 1–15. Doi: 10.1080/14781700.2014.881302 Guo, T. (2016). Surviving in Violent Conflicts: Chinese Interpreters in the Second Sino-Japanese War 1931–1945. London: Palgrave Macmillan. Harman, D. (2009). ‘Trading a life in Vegas to speak for troops in Afghanistan’. The Christian Science Monitor Online, 9 January. Available online: http://www.csmonitor.com/World/ Asia-South-Central/2009/0109/p01s03-wosc.html (accessed 5 March 2021). Inghilleri, M. (2008). ‘The ethical task of the translator in the geo-political Arena: From Iraq to Guantanamo Bay’. Translation Studies 1(2): 212–23. Inghilleri, M. (2009). ‘Translators in war zones: Ethics under fire in Iraq’. In E. Bielsa and C. Hughes (eds), Globalisation, Political Violence and Translation, 207–21. London: Palgrave Macmillan. Inghilleri, M. (2010). ‘You don’t make war without knowing why’. The Translator, special issue on Translating Violent Conflict 16(2): 175–96. Kohnavard, N. (2020). ‘Iraqi interpreters “stalked by death squads” for helping the British’, BBC Persian, Iraq, 30 December. Available online: https://www.bbc.com/news/worldmiddle-east-55481651 (accessed 5 March 2021). Lave, J. and Wenger, E. (1991). Situated Learning: Legitimate Peripheral Participation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Leont’ev, Aleksei N. (1981). Problems of the Development of the Mind, Moscow: Progress Publishers. Llewellyn-Jones, P. and Lee, R. G. (2014). Redefining the Role of the Community Interpreter. The Concept of Role-Space. Lincoln: SLI Press. Ministerio de Asuntos Exteriores y de Cooperación. (2012). Libro Blanco de la Traducción y la Interpretación Institucional [White Book on Institutional Translation and Interpretation]. Madrid: Servicio de Publicaciones. Available online: https://infotra.wordpress.

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com/2012/09/24/libro-blanco-de-la-traduccion-y-la-interpretacion-institucional-2/ (accessed 18 July 2021). Ministerio de Asuntos Exteriores Y de Cooperación (2011). Libro Blanco de la traducción y la interpretación institucional [White Paper on Institutional Translation and Interpretation]. Madrid: MAEC Secretaría General Técnica Área De Documentación. Available online: https://sites.google.com/site/signapuntes/archivos-de-ambitos/libro_blanco_traduccion_es.pdf (accessed 30 June 2021). Ministerio de Defensa. (2000). Libro Blanco de la Defensa [Defence White Paper]. Madrid: Ministerio de Defensa, Secretaría General Técnica, Centro de Publicaciones. Moreno, Y. (2017). Aplicación de estudios sobre el lenguaje en zonas en conflicto: el caso del intérprete de Guerra [Application of Studies on Language in Conflict Zones: The Case of the War Interpreter]. PhD thesis. Universidad de Alcalá, Spain. Navas, M. E. (2013). ‘El drama de los traductores del “enemigo” [The drama of the “enemy” translators]’. BBC Mundo, 16 September. Available online: https://www.bbc.com/mundo/ noticias/2013/09/130916_traductores_irak_afganistan_asilo_ejercito_men (accessed 5 March 2021). Ruiz Rosendo, L. (2019). ‘Rethinking the interpreter’s agency in wartime: A portrait of Gottlieb Fuchs’. Translation & Interpreting 11(2): 58–68. Ruiz Rosendo, L. (2020). ‘Interpreting for the Afghanistan Spanish force’. War & Society 39(1): 42–57. Ruiz Rosendo, L. and Barea Muñoz, M. (2017). ‘Towards a typology of interpreters in warrelated scenarios in the middle east’. Translation Spaces 6(2): 182–208. Ruiz Rosendo, L. and Persaud, C. (2016). ‘Interpreters and interpreting in conflict zones and scenarios: A historical perspective’. Linguistica Antverpiensia 15: 1–35. Ruiz Rosendo, L. and Persaud, C. (2019). ‘On the front line: Mediating across languages and cultures in peacekeeping operations’. Armed Forces & Society 45(3): 472–90. Runcieman, A. J. (2020). ‘Community interpreting and the Covid 19 crisis: Present relevancy and future directions’. Tilburg Papers in Cultural Studies 24: 1–20. Shane, L. (2020). ‘White house eyes ways to speed up visas for foreign interpreters stranded in war zones’. Military Times, 9 February. Available online: https://www.militarytimes.com/ news/pentagon-congress/2021/02/09/white-house-eyes-ways-to-speed-up-visas-for-foreigninterpreters-stranded-in-war-zones/ (accessed 5 March 2021). Snellman, P. (2018). Language Policy, Translation Culture and Interpreter Tactics in the Finnish Defence Forces. Available online: http://www.doria.fi/handle/10024/164884 (accessed 18 July 2021). Takeda, K. and Baigorri Jalón, J. (eds) (2016). New Insights in the History of Interpreting. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Valero-Garcés, C. (2019. Interview with Maya Hess (Red T). FITISPos IJ, Vol. 6. Doi: https:// doi.org/10.37536/FITISPosIJ.2019.6.1.233.

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CHAPTER SIX

Are Safety Signs Truly Universal When a Crisis Arises? ADRIANO CLAYTON DA SILVA AND SHARON O’BRIEN

INTRODUCTION Disaster and crises are always critical situations and sometimes are unexpected. When they hit people who are temporarily or permanently in another country and cultural system either for tourism or work, the impact can be severe, because, in addition to the crisis or emergency itself, those people also have to cope with different language(s) and culture(s). The cascading effects of this additional stressor can lead to dangerous delays, both in reacting to the peculiarities of that crisis and in rescue or reparation opportunities during and after the crisis. In such situations, the cultural mediator, who may be a professional interpreter or translator, or simply someone who knows the languages of the location of the crisis and the outsiders, has crucial importance. They will work to help foreigners better respond to and recover faster from catastrophes. Although the role of translation and interpreting in disaster preparedness and risk reduction has been relatively neglected, this topic has been the focus of more attention in recent years (Alexander and Pescaroli, 2020; O’Brien, 2019; Pyle, 2018). Researching crises and disasters within translation studies allows for an increased spotlight on the lacunae and impact in the field, in particular through collaboration with disaster studies scholars and emergency response bodies. According to O’Brien (2019), the field of disaster risk reduction (DRR) states that there are four stages typically recognized when talking about disasters (also known as the ‘4Rs’): reduction, readiness, response and recovery. Nonetheless, the role of translation in disasters and accidents usually is thought to be limited to interpreters helping to rescue and understand the victims’ needs. In other words, people often think of the moments during and immediately after the disaster/crisis (response and recovery), but not about the role of translation for disaster risk reduction and readiness. In this chapter, we pay attention to these two Rs in particular. We believe such action can help to prevent human suffering while also saving considerable sums of money, whether in hospital admissions, insurance costs and, more generally, in getting economic activity back to ‘normal’ once a crisis has hit. How might reduction and readiness receive more attention from translation studies? This chapter turns the spotlight on one aspect: safety signage. First, we present safety signage and its features. Then we discuss the non-universality of symbols and

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images, which leads to questioning the efficiency of safety signage, as they were imagined and created by councils and/or safety regulators from Western and developed countries. Following this, we present some cases of meaning misunderstandings of other signage systems, like road, disaster and label signs. Finally, we show how safety signage can be improved to help tourists, migrants and other sojourners better understand the meanings of such signage and use it when dealing with a crisis.

SAFETY SIGNAGE One system for risk reduction and readiness is safety signage. This encompasses the entire set of graphic, verb-visual signs – also known as pictograms – which allow rapid identification of potential health risks for people who are visiting a place, either for work or leisure. In fact, in industries, safety signs serve both as prevention and preparation, while in public places frequented by tourists, for example, they have both a preparatory and responsive character, but any observant tourist can use the system in a preventive way as well. Literature in translation studies on safety signage is very scarce. Signage systems have received more attention in other domains (Ben-Bassat and Shinar, 2018; Frommberger and Waidyanatha, 2017; Tan and Ben Said, 2015; Umar and Bashir, 2019; van den Berg et al., 2016), some of which will be presented throughout this chapter. Safety signage forms part of a variety of non-verbal communication systems, combined with words (complementing them) or not, aimed at the correct and safe functioning of certain aspects of a society. Their meanings are socio-culturally learnt and used in everyday life because they tend to condense and evoke quick responses from readers. Examples of sign systems are road signs and those specifically designed for disasters or as alerts for poisons, to which we will return later. The most widely used safety signage system in the United States is standardized by the ANSI/OSHA pair (American National Standards Institute/Occupational Safety and Health Administration). The two institutions, the first a private organization and the second a government body, constantly complement each other when creating standards and laws regarding safety issues. An example of an ANSI/OSHA approved standardized safety sign is in Figure 6.1: a green sign containing the words EMERGENCY EXIT (or just Exit) in white capital letters, plus the image of a stylized human body crossing a white rectangle representing a door and, importantly, an arrow showing the direction to follow. This example shows the standard design of these signalling systems: boards in a certain colour, showing some graphic sign, or none in many cases, accompanied by one or more words. From the United States, this standardization system was adopted by several other countries, including countries in which English is not one of the main languages, nor an official language. It is possible to find the sign from Figure 6.1 with the writings Salida de Emergencia instead of Emergency Exit in Argentinian airports, for instance. Thinking about the question of intelligibility for speakers of other languages, we immediately have a problem: the words. This is evident in Figure 6.2, in which two signage possibilities for signalling flammable materials appear: the ANSI pattern displays the image of a yellow triangle with a stylized figure of a bonfire and the word FLAMMABLE. The OSHA standard requires only words, that is, DANGER over a red background and FLAMMABLE MATERIALS over a white background.

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FIGURE 6.1  ANSI/OSHA standardization for emergency exits.

FIGURE 6.2  ANSI/OSHA standardization for flammable materials.

If one does not understand that language, one certainly could have trouble deciphering and quickly understanding the meaning of the sign. Yet, safety signs should be designed to give quick and accurate information. Their readability and understandability are paramount when informing people who are at risk during an emergency, a crisis or disaster. In Europe, the official body for standardization is the CEN (European Committee for Standardization), which works in close cooperation with the nongovernmental organization ISO (International Organization for Standardization),1 which in turn also works with many other standardization committees in Asia and Africa. ISO has a clear position about the use of words in safety signs: there are hardly any. ISO (2011: v) itself says that ‘there is a need to standardize the system for conveying safety information so that it relies as little as possible on the use of words to achieve understanding’, and its way of presenting symbols guarantees ‘clarity and consistency regardless of language, culture or situation’ (Naden, 2019). The patent example of what ISO proposes as an emergency exit sign appears in Figure 6.3: just the stylized image of a human passing through a door, over a green background, accompanied by an arrow indicating the direction of the exit. The sign designed according to ISO standards was established in an international context (multiple countries with dozens of official languages make up this context). Furthermore, like the ANSI/OSHA system, ISO standards are followed and adopted into laws by national security councils of several non-European countries. The inherent assumption underlying these sign systems is that standardization is good and signs are

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FIGURE 6.3  ISO standardization for ‘Emergency Exits’.

universally understandable. However, as we will see in the next section, there is no such thing as universally understandable symbols.

THE ISSUE OF SYMBOLS AS A UNIVERSAL LANGUAGE For many, though not all, it is clear that images and symbols are not universal. They vary from culture to culture and even from language to language (Barthes, 1986; Rosh, 1973). And this variation occurs for the same reasons that have generated different languages around the world: the communication systems developed by humans are subject to the environment in which they live, to the socio-cultural relations of the members of a society and to the political-historical events that have impacted on that society. However, the non-universality of images and symbols has only come to be better understood in contemporary times. A good example of this is the case of the Dominican friars in the sixteenth century going to China to evangelize the people there. Da Silva (2018) tells us that the gestuality and the use of colours greatly affected the way the Chinese saw the Dominicans and vice versa. Beginning with gestuality: Chinese used to kneel when in the  presence of the emperor, more like a bureaucratic custom than a reverence. However, the Dominicans did not see that as a good thing, since they only kneel before God. Clothing colours were also problematic: while the colour of religion for the Chinese was (and still is) yellow, the Dominicans used the colours white and black for their clothes. In China, such colours represent, respectively, weakness and fear. How could Chinese people trust someone expressing fear and weakness in their clothes? In the case presented above, the meanings of gestures and colours of the friars’ clothing were rooted in centuries of history and socio-cultural interactions of European peoples within Europe (the same for Chinese), and they were and remain obvious only to those who are immersed in these societies. A child born in Europe will naturally be immersed in this universe of symbols and senses for colours, gestures and shapes, beyond, of course, the language and the entire cultural subtexts it carries. By cultural we mean not only traditions but also religious ideas, taboos, symbols of status and power relations within each society. European Christianity and colonialism also permeate such meanings: for

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example, the cross and its link with charity and honesty, or a person’s skin colour and their status in European societies. In the same way, the two systems of safety signage presented above reflect from the outset the ethnocentrism of the developed countries in which the design originated: they were thought of and developed by people from highly industrialized countries, with their specific socio-cultural references, and one of those systems admits this even more when using English words for ‘signalling’. Nonetheless, even the arrow idea in Figure 6.3 is highly questionable in some non-Western cultures. Many Aboriginal people from inner Australia, for instance, use images drawn on the ground to construct their daily languages and narratives. They use their fingers, or a stick, to draw lines in the sand and to point, indicating directions, which implies a dynamic signage (Green, 2016), that is, the direction is made in the moment they gesture, according to the direction and movement of the finger or stick. It is an ephemeral form of signage, not represented by static symbols, and if the listener or viewer were to lose the narrative, they will lose not only the story but also the meanings and directions of the drawings in the sand. The static-coloured arrow fixed in a vertical plastic board in Figure 6.3 has no meaning in this system.

Potential for misunderstanding To get an idea about how socio-cultural and historical-political biases affect safety signage, let us imagine the following two cases: first, the cross association with Christianity, and second, symbols plus word combinations. As mentioned previously, in the West, the cross is a symbol of Christianity. It is, however, also one of the symbols of the International Red Cross and Red Crescent Movement, the union of the two biggest humanitarian organizations, the International Federation of the Red Cross (IFRC) and the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC). These organizations collaborate across a network of 192 national Red Cross and Red Crescent societies around the world. According to the ICRC website,2 in 1864, a Greek red cross was chosen as the symbol of the ICRC. The symbol is an inversion of the colours of the Swiss flag, and since then it was adopted by other organizations. The other most known symbol of the movement is the Red Crescent Moon, but none of the movement associated societies have any religious or political biases. Nonetheless, despite the fact that this was not supposed to represent any political or religious meaning, it did not prevent the organization from being attacked sometimes thanks to misunderstandings about the meaning of its symbols by some groups. For instance, the ICRC suffered a severe attack after a civil war in Libya in 2012,3 and there were political attacks against humanitarian organizations in Indonesia because of their ‘religious’ symbols in recent decades (Latief, 2011). Because of the Red Cross, Standard ISO 7010 uses the cross symbol to represent first aid elements: the safety sign related to first aid is green and has a Greek cross stamped on it. Let us imagine an orthodox Muslim migrant working in Irish industry. Is it possible to state that this worker, after suffering some sort of accident, and seeing near them a box with a cross stamped on it,4 will recognize it as a first aid kit and reach for the bag immediately? Besides, we must remember that for some Islamic groups the representation of human bodies is taboo.5 So, even the emergency exit sign from Figure 6.3, and all of ISO’s safety signs that use stylized faces or bodies, may be seen differently by Muslim people, for example, which is a subject worthy of further investigation.

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For the second case, as mentioned before, the ANSI/OSHA system allows for symbols followed by words, and it is common to see in many American and even European airports and other public places a green sign above exit doors, with a stylized image of a person running, with the word EXIT (capitalized). However, in Spanish, the word for exit is salida, while the English word exit looks similar to the Spanish word éxito, which means success in that language. How can we be sure that this association between exit and éxito will not cause a misunderstanding by a Spanish-language native, especially one from Latin America, walking in an international airport abroad, who has relatively lower levels of contact with the written system of the English language in their everyday life? In a hazardous situation, a few seconds lost solving this kind of problem can cost a life. In the two scenarios described above, the imaginary characters specifically wanted to be in those locations – industry and airport – so there is a chance that they learnt about safety signage and procedures before landing in those places. Pyle (2018) states that sojourners tend to prepare for international engagements, like business, tourism, education or other activities away from their country of residence. However, this would probably not be true of a refugee, who had to suddenly flee from his or her country, and the extent to which people prepare also varies considerably from individual to individual. How can we know this person will be able to get out quickly and safely from a public building where a fire suddenly starts if they are unfamiliar with local emergency signage? In all the above situations, rapid recognition of the safety signs is fundamental to a prompt response to the emergency that arises. Nonetheless, we have seen that symbols, colours and even shapes are not universal and that the meanings transmitted and supposedly evoked by ANSI/OHSA and ISO signs were created in Western developed countries, with strong, deeply rooted and no longer explicitly identifiable influences from their historical and cultural references. Reading the documents from ANSI (2002) and ISO (2011), nothing explains why yellow is the colour chosen to represent warning situations, or why green symbolizes safe conditions. They simply say that colour codes ‘have been developed in the past by a large number of industrial firms and other organizations’ (ANSI, 2002: xi), or that safety colour is a ‘colour with special properties to which a safety meaning is attributed’ (ISO, 2011: 3). However, Pastoureau and Simonnet (2005) explain that green, before becoming the colour of nature and ecology, in medieval times was the liturgical colour for ordinary Sundays, that is, quiet moments; yellow, for centuries was the colour for labelling the betrayers in Europe, that is, the colour of suspicion and doubt. How can we be sure that in hazardous situations any people, from any part of the world, will be fully aware of what they see and will know how to interpret it and act accordingly? Although there is virtually no research indicating that this kind of ambiguity exists when referring to safety signage, we have other solid clues showing that confusion may indeed exist, and they come from another important signage system – road signs.

Road signs A parallel system of signs that exists in virtually any country in the world is traffic signage. Like safety signs, traffic signs are created and standardized according to national conventions, which of course are based not only on the most logical argument or common sense in each society but also on observations and research about behaviour and traffic itself– and they must be known and respected by any citizen; ignorance or disregard for sign conventions cannot be excuses for disrespecting them. Even so, such signs can confuse even experienced local drivers.

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Umar and Bashir (2019) conducted a study in the city of Kano, Nigeria, in which they assessed the understanding of thirty national traffic signs, considered crucial in terms of safety. The authors conclude that the level of understanding of those thirty signs did not reach 100 per cent among the 190 people interviewed. The understanding of traffic signs increases with age, but even among people with over twenty years of experience on the road, it reached only 87 per cent. For instance, even among the most experienced participants in the study, four traffic signs considered important were not recognized. Moreover, the situation was worse when they assessed the level of understanding according to vehicle: truck drivers, who should have more knowledge about traffic considering the size, weight and hazard potential of their vehicles and the need to drive as an occupation, had an average of 65 per cent understanding of the signs displayed. Another survey on the understanding of traffic signs was conducted by Ben-Bassat and Shinar (2018), under the supervision of the United Nations Economic Commission for Europe (UNECE). The survey sought to understand the comprehension of and response time to traffic signs in five major countries (Canada, Israel, South Africa, Finland and Poland) by people from those countries. The inspiration for the research came from the constant traffic accidents involving tourists in foreign countries, as it was perceived that many of the accidents occurred because of the unfamiliarity of foreign drivers with traffic signs, when renting and driving cars in foreign countries. Their study shows that there are indeed differences in understanding and response times between the local and non-local drivers from the countries, which were considered, and that there were misunderstandings. Of particular note is that data from the study shows that reaction time for selecting ‘opposite’ wrong answers (i.e. opposite of the true sign meaning analysed) was lower than for ‘ordinary’ wrong answer. The authors concluded that this faster reaction time could indicate more confidence in the (very wrong) answer by the driver, and hence ‘more probability to act quickly in a hazardous way’ (Ben-Bassat and Shinar, 2018: 11). In addition to the research on understanding and response time, the researchers also evaluated alternative traffic signs, based on the idea of ergonomically designed signs. For this idea, compatibility, standardization and familiarity were topics used to think of new signs that could be more understandable by all the nationalities researched – or signs from a certain country that were better understood by the general public. From this idea, the researchers discovered, for example, that a red bar over any image is a good indicator of prohibition. They also noted that the use of some words improved the comprehension of drivers whose countries use the language of that word – although the study did not show whether the translation of that word into other languages would facilitate the understanding of signs in other countries. For instance, the sign for minimum speed containing the short ‘min’ had excellent comprehension and response time from Canada and South Africa, but the lowest comprehension from Israel, due to its different alphabet.

Disasters Disasters are the most researched crisis settings, and there have been studies relating them to the work of translators and interpreters, also including some studies on the use of pictograms as a form of communication in these situations. These studies help us understand the problems related to the uses of signs, symbols and pictograms in communication. For instance, Tan and Ben Said (2015) studied the use of pictograms for communication in the case of tsunamis and earthquakes in Japan for non-Japanese speakers. According to the authors, this signage system was strengthened after the

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3 March 2011 disaster (also known as 3.11), in which a magnitude 9 earthquake struck the country, followed by a tsunami with waves of more than 30 metres, which also caused the meltdown of part of the Fukushima Nuclear Power Plant. A previous study, conducted by Gottlieb (2012), showed that non-Japanese-speaking populations, especially Chinese, Koreans and Brazilians living in the country, suffered greatly from the lack of post-disaster information, even in English. Tan and Ben Said (2015) researched pictograms at Matsushima Kaigan Station, close to the 3.11 earthquake epicentre and far from major urban centres, and realized that there were only two small, poorly located posters containing pictograms for a tsunami with some short phrase in English. All other pictograms had complementary information only in Japanese. The authors also realized that this is the norm in the country and that displaying Chinese or Korean phrases for disasters has not even been thought of yet. Considering these findings, the authors conclude that ‘people who do not understand both Japanese and English will be more information-disadvantaged than those who have some level of English proficiency in present-day Japan’ (2011: 149). Cadwell (2016, 2018, 2019; Cadwell and O’Brien 2016), while not focusing on safety signage, has also documented the important need for translation and interpreting in the aftermath of this disaster. In line with the previous research, Frommberger and Waidyanatha (2017) discuss the uses of ‘pictographs’ or ‘pictograms’ (the authors use the two terms synonymously) in many situations related to disaster communication (including user interfaces, health information and incident reporting), showing that these elements can play an important role for linguistically challenged and illiterate populations – migrants, sojourners, refugees and tourists in a foreign country may also belong to this group if they do not have good proficiency in the local language. This is one of the most complete works on signage and disasters, presenting some signage systems designed for crisis prevention and harm reduction in cases of disasters triggered by natural hazards and their usage implications. The results of the research show that the level of literacy is directly related to the ability to ‘read’ pictograms: the more abstract they are, the more difficult it is for illiterate people to read, while more iconic representations, closer to their referents, are more identifiable for low-literacy people. In addition, pictograms vary in meaning according to their intended target public. Frommberger and Waidyanatha’s fieldwork was carried out with groups from poor, rural or deaf communities in the Philippines and Sri Lanka, testing a specific set of disaster symbols designed for the research. The authors found that, without contextualization, symbols linked to natural hazards, such as landslides and hurricanes, were more easily perceived the more iconic they were. On the other hand, symbols linked to response actions and immediate needs in disasters were less well recognized. When contextualized, however (for instance, when participants were told that such symbols could be used in disasters to find shelter or food), participants were able to more easily associate their meanings. In any case, the symbols varied between communities in the two countries. For example, the flood symbol, easily recognized in Sri Lanka, was associated with a normal day by some inhabitants of floating houses in the Philippines. It was obvious from the research that pictograms should be designed locally, in association with the population that will use it (for more on the topic of participatory research in the context of disaster preparedness, see Cadag, 2020). But even the work of Frommberger and Waidyanatha (2017) does not provide information about safety signage. Probably, the main reason for this gap is the type of disaster researched by the

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authors: they focused on earthquakes and tsunamis, which are different from fires and accidents caused inside a built environment. Another example of a sign system for disasters is the set of pictograms used in the mobile application Global Disaster Alert and Coordination System (GDACS). According to Van den Berg et al. (2016), this set of pictograms plus their operation within the app function as a communication language for crises thanks to their apparent ease of assimilation by users. The authors ran a flood simulation in a region of the Netherlands to test assimilation and they noticed that users, despite saying they found some difficulties in using the app, were very successful in identifying and categorizing buildings and markers related to safety, medical care, infrastructure and rescue. But it had some flaws as well. Van den Berg et al. (2016) point out that during the storm and flooding experiment, in which the participant volunteers had to look for real markers (buildings related to medical aid, safety, infrastructure and rescue) in a given region, at the same time as reporting information about the simulated crisis, the volunteers had good matches between their categorizations of pictograms and the real markers. Compared with experts’ categorization, volunteers got a full match of 81.8 per cent, which is good, but there were still 18.2 per cent of people who could be in trouble because of their inability to match the two. Moreover, some issues relating to the proper identification of the buildings in the region also led to misunderstandings in the location identification and categorization. The authors conclude that better guidance about the app’s operation, and better identification of the buildings, could lead to a higher match rate. It is important to note that the experiment was run in the Netherlands, with optimal access to technologies, and not in a developing country; the study does not mention the literacy level of the volunteers. Low-literacy levels could radically change the results of such an experiment. Other offerings exist in addition to the GDAC system. For example, the In Control Practical Handbook for Professionals Working in Health Emergencies Internationally (2020) contains an annex with a ‘global picture dictionary’ developed by the company ICOON.6 Another example to mention is the Sahana Foundation’s Mobile Pictographs for Disaster Communication project (2017). However, it is unclear from their website what resources are available and how or if the pictograms have been tested.7

Poisons and medicines In addition to the previous items mentioned, there are several studies that investigate the usefulness of pictograms in place of, or combined with, words in package labelling for chemicals and poisons. Tijus et al. (2017) highlight the pros and cons of pictograms in such contexts: on the one hand, they can be very useful in low-literacy contexts and for routine tasks. On the other hand, very few pictograms are universally understood and there is potential for confusion or even opposite interpretations, and it can take years for a pictogram to reach maximum effectiveness. Pictograms are often used on medicine labels with and without text. For example, Dowse and Ehlers (2005) tested comprehension of pictograms on medicine labels as stand-alone signs and accompanied by text. They found that the combination of pictograms with text improved comprehension and adherence to instructions. Mansoor and Dowse (2003) investigated patient information leaflets with text-only and with text plus pictogram in a low-literacy context and concluded that the text accompanied by a pictogram improved comprehension of more complex information. Rother (2008) investigated the comprehension of pictograms on pesticide labels among farm workers in

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South Africa and concluded that at least half of their participants arrived at misleading, incorrect or critically confused interpretations of the pictograms. In many of these studies the use of pictograms alongside text increases comprehension, but the correct and maximum understanding of the pictograms was conditioned by some socio-cultural factors such as cultural specificities, gender, age, education level and so on; that is, it cannot be assumed that pictograms will be universally understood or are a replacement for words in hazardous contexts.

TRANSLATING SAFETY THROUGH INTERSEMIOTIC TRANSLATION Even if there is no absolute certainty about the efficacy of safety signage, it is possible to think of improvements through intersemiotic translation to help displaced people (from economic migrants to refugees and asylum seekers), business travellers and tourists. A term coined by Roman Jakobson (1959), intersemiotic translation has many applications in the translation studies area and is essentially about translation from one semiotic system to another, or ‘an interpretation of verbal signs by means of signs of nonverbal sign systems’ (1959: 233). What Jakobson meant was that intersemiotic translation would allow the translation of a book into a film, for example, but he did not develop the concept much further. Da Silva (2017) develops Jakobson’s idea, showing that not only a book could become a film but even a simple word could be translated into an image, and vice versa. Thus, intersemiotic translation would drive phenomena of adaptation and translation between media. Using this broad idea of intersemiotic translation, we can think about translating symbols and colours into words, and even colours and symbols being translated into other colours and symbols in safety signs. For instance, we could use the ANSI/OSHA signage system, but adapt it to other languages – a kind of localization or regionalized standardization. Although the system has been developed initially for the US English context, it is possible to think of translating these signs into other languages. The system could be made more accessible this way. Of course, doing so requires knowledge of the main linguistic and cultural groups that frequent each place and these could be changeable. However, current mobility trends could be used to identify those groups who could then help with this work. We envisage a sign with the major language of the site (probably the official language(s)) and one or two more signs containing the most used secondary languages, or even a board containing the two or three languages together accompanied by a pictogram. Figure 6.4 illustrates this well, showing English and Spanish words on an emergency exit sign that could be placed in an American international airport, for example. Such solutions already exist in some countries where there are two or more official languages, as in the case of Figure 6.5 from Macau, where Portuguese and Cantonese are official languages. Going back to our imaginary cases mentioned above, in the case of the Latin American tourist, an emergency exit sign with the word SALIDA next to the word EXIT would certainly help to speed up comprehension and response time, though this assumes a certain level of literacy. With the Muslim worker case, there is even a ready-made solution: there are first-aid boxes with the image of the red crescent stamped on them. This box was designed for the Islamic world, but there could also be the case of a box containing the two images, the cross and the crescent.

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FIGURE 6.4  An alternative inclusive sign.

FIGURE 6.5  Bilingual emergency exit sign in Macau.

Not only tourists and migrants but also refugees could benefit from these translations. As stated before, of the main groups of displaced people (tourists, business travellers, socio-economic migrant workers, asylum seekers and refugees), refugees and asylum seekers are the ones who presumably least wanted to leave their homes, and that is precisely why they are the least prepared, including any minimal knowledge of signage and security. A more accessible, more inclusive world for asylum seekers and refugees will certainly give them more confidence and opportunities. The paved road for tourists and migrants will certainly help refugees from other countries.

CONCLUSION We agree with Van den Berg et al. (2016) that symbols and pictograms have enormous potential to convey and evoke information. The proof of this is the growing use of emojis, GIFs and other forms of non-verbal images in human communication, thanks, of course, to the ease with which we can currently use and reproduce them on our computers and

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mobile phones. Such images carry meanings that words often cannot convey; furthermore, they enable receivers to gain a very quick grasp of the information. Therefore, since traffic signs, medical and disaster-specific pictograms, for example, are subject to misunderstandings (due especially to levels of literacy and regional or cultural differences), it is reasonable to assume that safety signs are also subject to misunderstandings, even though, as mentioned, there is a lack of research on this. The fact that the literature is sparse does not mean that the problem does not exist. It simply means that little attention has been paid to the problem up to now, or worse, that such systems are believed to be effective and resistant to deception and misinterpretation. It is worth noting that it is also very difficult to investigate such hypotheses. When thinking of industry, with migrant workers in particular, let us remember that crises will almost always occur in private environments, within companies, who will obviously prefer that such ‘accidents’ are kept secret, with the maximum possible discretion. When talking about tourists, it is possible to imagine that accidents involving the misunderstanding of safety signs have already happened, but after they happen, the focus of both researchers and the press will be on the events after the disaster and they will hardly focus on what the reactions were of local residents compared to those of foreign nationals present at the time of the crisis or disaster. One of the best ways to investigate this would be during an actual disaster or crisis, which of course raises moral and ethical questions such as: Who wants an accident to happen to investigate it? This chapter sought to raise some questions about the supposed universality of safety signs for workplaces and public places and the lack of studies in the field. As we have seen, colours, symbols, shapes and gestures are not universal, and depend on socio-cultural, historical and political references, and even on the language used in a given society. Such references will also affect safety signage and will not necessarily be recognizable and understandable by anyone outside that society. Translation studies, using the theories and tools related to intersemiotic translation, could make a substantial contribution by focusing more on this issue. Increasing the understanding of and response to safety signage by people from other nationalities will certainly increase knowledge about crisis and disaster prevention and preparedness (reduction and readiness), which will in turn decrease the human and material losses resulting from future disasters.

NOTES 1. More details at https://ansi.org/ and https://www.osha.gov/ (accessed 25 April 2021). 2. See https://www.icrc.org/ (accessed 25 April 2021). 3. According to the ICRC head of delegation at the time, Ishfaq Muhamad Khan, ICRC was not so well known in the country, so the attacks could be triggered by ‘misperceptions about what the ICRC logo represents’ (ICRC, 2012, n.p.). 4. These first-aid kits can also be printed in red and white (not the ISO standard, but that choice of colours is maybe for the same reason that is used in traffic lights: to be easily seen at distance). 5. See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aniconism_in_Islam (accessed 25 April 2021). 6. See http://www.icoon.eu/about-icoon and https://www.incontrol-handbook. org/#Publication for more information on both resources (accessed 25 April 2021). 7. See for instance https://sahanafoundation.org/pictographs/ (accessed 25 April 2021).

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REFERENCES Alexander, D. E. and Pescaroli, G. (2020). ‘The role of translators and interpreters in cascading crises and disasters: Towards a framework for confronting the challenges’, Disaster Prevention and Management 29(2): 144–56. DOI 10.1108/DPM-12-2018-0382. American National Standard. (2002). Safety Color Code (ANSI Z535.1). Retrieved from https:// www.nema.org/docs/default-source/standards-document-library/ansi-z535_1-2017-contentsand-scope.pdf (accessed 25 April 2021). Barthes, R. (1986). Lo obvio y lo obtuso: imágenes, gestos, voces. Trans. C. Fernandez Medrano. Barcelona: Ediciones Paidós Ibérica. Ben-Bassat, T. and Shinar, D. (2018). ‘International road sign comprehension evaluation project’. In UNECE Expert Group on Road Signs and Signals. Geneva, Switzerland. Cadag, J. R. D. (2020). ‘Integrating language needs in disaster research and disaster risk reduction and management through participatory methods’. In F. M. Federici and S. O’Brien (eds), Translation in Cascading Crisis, 177–98. Abingdon and New York: Routledge. Cadwell, P. (2016). ‘A place for translation technologies in disaster settings: The case of the 2011 reat east Japan earthquake’. In M. O’Hagan and Q. Zhang (eds), Conflict and Communication: A Changing Asia in a Globalizing World – Language and Cultural Perspective, 169–94. New York: Nova Science Publication. Cadwell, P. (2018). ‘Foreign residents’ experiences of the flyjin phenomenon in the 2011 great east Japan earthquake’. In S. Bouterey and L. Marceau (eds), Crisis and Disaster in Japan and New Zealand: Actors, Victims and Ramifications, 59–78. Singapore: Palgrave Macmillan. Cadwell, P. (2019). ‘Trust, distrust and translation in a disaster’. Disaster Prevention and Management 29(2): 157–74. Cadwell, P. and O’Brien, S. (2016). ‘Language, culture, and translation in disaster ICT: An ecosystemic model of understanding’. Perspectives – Studies in Translatology 24(4): 557–75. Da Silva, A. C. (2017). ‘On Jakobson’s intersemiotic translations in Asterix comics’, Comparatismi 2: 71–81. DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.14672/20171233. Da Silva, A. C. (2018). ‘Traduciendo símbolos y gestos religiosos: el caso de la Orden Dominicana’. In R. Lozano Miralles, D. Pérez Blázquez and E. Serrano Bertos (eds), La traducción en la Orden de Predicadores, 617–29. Granada: Editorial Comares. Dowse, R. and Ehlers, M. (2005). ‘Medicine labels incorporating pictograms: do they influence understanding and adherence?’ Patient Education and Counseling 58(1): 63–70. Green, J. (2016). ‘Multimodal complexity in sand story narratives’. Narrative Inquiry 26(2): 312–39. DOI 10.1075/ni.26.2.06gre. Gottlieb, N. (2012). Language Policy in Japan: The Challenge of Change. New York: Cambridge University Press. International Committee of the Red Cross. (2012). Libya: ICRC still committed to respond to needs of the population. Available online: https://www.icrc.org/en/doc/resources/documents/ interview/2012/libyaintervi15.html (accessed 25 April 2021). International Organization for Standardization. (2011). Graphical symbols – Safety colours and safety signs – Part 1: Design principles for safety signs and safety markings (ISO 3864-1). Available online: https://www.iso.org/standard/51021.html (accessed 25 April 2021). Jakobson, R (1959). ‘On linguistic aspects of translation’. In R. Brower (ed.), On Translation, 232–9. Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP. Mansoor, L. and Dowse, R. (2003). ‘Effect of pictograms on readability of patient information materials’. Annals of Pharmacotherapy 37(7–8): 1003–9. DOI 10.1345/aph.1C449.

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Naden, C. (2019). ‘International standard for safety signs updated’. ISO News, 31 July 2019, Available online: https://www.iso.org/news/ref2417.html (accessed 25 April 2021). O’Brien, S. (2019). ‘Translation technology and disaster management’. In M. O’Hagan (ed.), The Routledge Handbook of Translation and Technology, 304–18. Abingdon and New York: Routledge. Pastoureau, M. and Simonnet, D. (2005). Le petit livre des couleurs. Paris: Éditions du Panama. Pyle, A. S. (2018). ‘Intercultural crisis communication: Examining the experiences of crisis sojourners’. Journal of Applied Communication Research 46(3): 388–407. DOI 10.1080/00909882.2018.1467031. Rosh, E. (1973). ‘On the internal structure of perceptual and semantic categories’. In T. E. More (ed.), Cognitive Development and the Acquisition of Language, 111–44. New York: Academic Press. Rother, H.-A. (2008). ‘South African farm workers’ interpretation of risk assessment data expressed as pictograms on pesticide labels’. Environmental Research 108(3): 419–27. Sahana Software Foundation (2017). Final Report: Mobile Pictographs for Disaster Communication. London: Elhra. Available online: https://www.elrha.org/wp-content/ uploads/2018/03/SahanaPictographs_HIF_ESI_FINAL_REPORT.pdf (accessed 7 July 2021). Tijus, C., Barcenilla, J., Cambon de Lavalette, B. and Meunier, J. G (2007). ‘The design, understanding and usage of pictograms’. In G. Riklaarsdam and D. Alamargot, P. Terrier and J. M. Cellier (eds), Studies in Writing, Vol. 21, Written Documents in the Workplace, 17–31. Town: Publisher. Umar, I. K. and Bashir, S. (2019). ‘Comprehension of road traffic signs by various road users in kano city’. Cumhuriyet Sci. J. 40(1): 197–203. DOI dx.doi.org/10.17776/csj.403516. Van den Berg, R. P., Widera, A., Lechtenberg, S., Middelhoff, M. and Hellingrath, B. (2016). ‘Pictograms and assessment categories as crisis communication language: Lessons from a field exercise with GDACSmobile’. 2016 3rd International Conference on Information and Communication Technologies for Disaster Management (ICT-DM), Vienna, 1–8. DOI 10.1109/ICT-DM.2016.7857208.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Translating Scholarly Knowledge in Times of Crisis RAFAEL Y. SCHÖGLER

INTRODUCTION The age of cosmopolitanism resulted in hitherto unknown concentrations of transnational interdependencies, where ‘habits of consumption in Europe’ can be connected to ‘victims of flooding and draught events in Australia, China, India and Bangladesh’, as Ulrich Beck (2013: 278) puts it. Although scientific and scholarly knowledge provides a rational basis for communication of climate change-related knowledge, discourses and actions, these remain rooted in local contexts that are simultaneously connected to their global interdependencies. This chapter will discuss implications and potentials of scientific and scholarly translation in times of cascading crisis, where global knowledge production and local meaning-making need to be connected for knowledge to obtain behaviour changing authority. Denying that our personal actions have an effect on climate change is a pertinent example of such a disconnect. Latour (2018: 66–8) argues that a global perspective can only fail to grasp local and contextual matters that ultimately matter to humans and make them act swiftly. The challenge for translating knowledge in times of cascading crisis lies in developing translation policies and translation practices that support evidence-based communication, which leads to desired alterations in local and global behaviours and actions. In times of crisis, decisions taken by members of affected communities as well as political and other decision-makers can decide over life and death or limited versus collateral damage. In these crisis situations, the authority of evidence-based knowledge and what follows, an unquestioned trust in measures, interpretations of risks and so on, is essential for phases of recovery and preparation for subsequent hazards. In these situations, a high degree of compliance with measures based on understanding their reasoning, or at least accepting the epistemic authority of its sources, will increase the probability of diminishing causalities and damages. That is, as long as those in charge take decisions that are in the common good. The aim of this chapter is twofold. In the first part, it will address key characteristics of scientific and scholarly knowledge and knowledge-making, dominant logics governing translation of knowledge within the academic field and pit them against requirements of crisis communication. In the second part, adaptations to the logics and practices governing translation of scholarly knowledge for crisis communication settings will be

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discussed differentiating communicative settings (science to science, exchanges with policy-makers, and science and society interactions) as well as stages of cascading crises where necessary (preparation, mitigation, response and recovery). In short, this chapter argues that dominant logics governing translation within the academic field are unfit for the requirements of crisis communication, especially if the aim of knowledge translation in these settings is to increase the authority and robustness of such knowledge. It discusses options for developing translation policies and practices that build upon translatorial reflexivity and translatorial agency as cornerstones of co-producing knowledge in crisis settings.

SCHOLARLY KNOWLEDGE IN THE MAKING: RELIABLE, AUTHORITATIVE, ROBUST Scholarly knowledge-making is widely perceived as reliable and trustworthy within and outside the academic sphere. This means that most accept it as authoritative for personal and political decision-making. Within academia, reliability of scholarly knowledgemaking relies on the self-referentiality of the academic field, its internal rules of the game (see Bourdieu, 1998) and a complex set of checks and balances. These processes are also in part responsible for the societal acceptance of scientific expertise. However, communities develop distinct ‘civic epistemologies’ (Jasanoff, 2010: 239); that is, they differ in their understanding of what makes knowledge reliable. Consequently, the field of science and technology studies (STS) identified participatory methods of knowledgemaking as particularly prone to increasing social robustness of knowledge, that is, the understanding, as well as an extensive acceptance and support, of scholarly and scientific knowledge within and by society at large (Nowotny, Scott and Gibbons, 2001). These characteristics of scientific and scholarly knowledge are decisive for crisisrelated communication when preparing for, responding to or recovering from a crisis, as trust and acceptance of knowledge are essential to turn it into an authoritative source and basis from which to implement behaviour-changing measures. In this chapter I use scientific and scholarly knowledge as a term to encompass the broad spectrum of academic knowledge that is subsumed in the German concept of ‘Wissenschaft’, which encompasses several domains within the arts and humanities that are not included in the English term ‘science’. Where necessary, a differentiation of science and other forms of scholarly knowledge is explained in the chapter. The modern academic sphere hosts a wide variability of scholarly methodologies and epistemologies. Despite this vast spectrum of epistemological and methodological choices, scholarly and scientific knowledge-making processes share a self-critical orientation and a system of ‘organized scepticism’, to use the term coined by sociologist of science Robert K. Merton (1973: 277). It is this system that is relied upon to obtain reliability and (societal) authority of knowledge, which are clearly attributes that make it valuable in implementing crisis communication. No matter whether knowledge-making follows an interpretivist or positivistic epistemology, its production has undergone varied processes of internal checks and balances. These checks range from years of training to obtain institutionalized academic credentials to technicalities such as double-blind peer review that have evolved over time. In more general terms, the ethos of organized scepticism designates the ability of the scholarly and scientific sphere to question its own existing knowledge and not accept it for its own sake. Its

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implementation is complex, specific to every field and time-consuming and at the same the basis – not the sole reason – for its societal authoritativeness. Nonetheless, scientific knowledge is not ‘superior’ to other forms of knowledge. As with any form of human knowledge, it is the product of social processes and practices. This interactional and social dimension was illustrated in Latour and Woolgar’s Laboratory Life (1979). Their study is an ethnographic reconstruction of how scientists work in their laboratories and how social relationships and the meanings given to artefacts in the laboratory co-construct the realities that then become a scientific fact. Also, Camic, Gross and Lamont (2011) adapt this idea to emphasize that any forms of scholarly knowledge are deeply socially embedded and the product of social processes. Thus, reliability and authority of knowledge, but also support for science, cannot be achieved solely by relying on science as being science. Rather, it results from trust and (basic) understanding of the processes and practices leading to their making. A term coined to describe this relationship is the ‘social robustness’ of knowledge. Nowotny and colleagues (Nowotny, Scott and Gibbons, 2001) developed this concept because of long-lasting controversies concerning the alleged lack of public understanding of science (see Michael, 1996; Wynne, 1995, 2003) and the question of how an understanding of scientific facts, models and theories has an impact on acceptance and public support of science. Robustness entails different levels of understanding, as well as an extensive acceptance and support of scholarly and scientific knowledge within and by society at large. To achieve such ‘robustness’, science and technology studies scholars suggest implementing inclusive approaches to knowledge-making, with participatory forms of knowledge exchange transcending all stages of scientific work, that is, from defining research questions, to data gathering and interpreting results. Scholars, funding agencies and policy-makers can organize and sponsor top-down events to achieve this aim, or participatory knowledge-making can develop organically and spontaneously. Based on this perspective on knowledge-making, I formulate a general axiom for the translation of knowledge in cascading crises. By assuming that products of scientific and scholarly knowledge-making are on par with any other forms of knowledge, such as local experiential knowledge of communities affected by a disaster, translating scientific ‘facts’ or scholarly ‘findings’ might not suffice to exploit the authoritative potential of such knowledge in crisis communication. Rather, we should expect trust and authority to increase when translation contributes to enhancing social robustness of knowledge by translating processes, rationales and assumptions underlying such knowledge. Before sketching out implications and potentials of translation of scientific and scholarly knowledge in different stages of crisis management, I will elaborate dominant logics of translation in the academic field to explain why these are mostly unfit for the crisis settings.

SCHOLARLY KNOWLEDGE TRANSLATION: TRANSFORMING, ADAPTING AND CIRCULATING Translation practices in the academic field range from re-translating Greek and Roman classics, translating data-gathering tools like survey questionnaires, to ad-hoc interpreting in multilingual qualitative research settings. These practices of knowledge translation are a communicative act during which scientific and scholarly knowledge is transformed and adapted. As holds true for any other translation, it is a process of negotiation,

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decision-making and selection (see Wolf, 2012). In the context of scholarly knowledge, this entails transformations of discursive links, separating and reconnecting translated knowledge to intertextual allusions in new target contexts, and deciding where to start and where to end translating. Translation of knowledge takes place at least in three distinct multilingual communication settings that are relevant to crisis communication in different ways: within the academic field (science-to-science communication), in exchanges with local or global policy-makers and in exchanges with society at large. In times of cascading crises, knowledge translation takes a particularly important position as policy-makers not only rely on expertise; also, authorities, politicians, NGOs and many other agents select, adapt, translate and rewrite scientific and scholarly knowledge to frame their narratives in public debates concerning preparation, mitigation, response and recovery strategies. These circumstances are, however, far removed from dominant patterns and mechanisms of translation within the academic field, which we shall concentrate on in this section. Translation accompanying the circulation of ideas within academic (and intellectual) communities has long traditions. Historians of science have identified strategic language use and translation as a cornerstone for the emergence of modern scientific knowledge that goes back to the Greek and Latin roots of knowledge communication in antiquity (Gordin, 2015: 23ff.; Delisle and Woodworth, 2012: 95ff.). Whenever new forms of science communication or transnational forms of knowledge dissemination are established, the role of translation is crucial. Banks (2019) emphasizes how, in the seventeenth century, translations between French and English permitted an exchange of ongoing findings in Philosophical Transactions and the Journal des Sçavans that made it possible for these journals to thrive and new scientific methods to circulate. In a very different context, translation took on a crucial role in establishing new fields of thought in German social sciences and humanities from the 1960s onwards. Publishing houses relied on translations as an anchor for the intellectual profile of their newly established book series – such as Luchterhand’s Soziologische Texte or Suhrkamps Theorie (Schögler, 2019). The spectrum of modes, forms, aims, effects and characteristics of translation in the context of contemporary knowledge circulation is broad. Nonetheless, in non-crisis settings, two reasonings dominate the translation of scholarly knowledge: first, researchers have a self-interest in being published in a particular language, which is either a (locally/ regionally) recognized language of communication or a dominant lingua franca of the respective time and research area. This self-interest presumably governs translations of research materials, self-translation of existing publications and dissemination in oral form (conference papers, talks, seminars and public speeches). For the researchers in question, the effect of translating or having material translated is primarily rooted in the opportunity to participate in already existing and established academic discourses, influence their development and – on a secondary level – to potentially increase their own epistemic authority. The second reasoning guiding translation can be derived from mechanisms that determine the distribution of recognition in the academic field. Sapiro and colleagues (2014) explain that scholarly works need to overcome obstacles related to economic viability, relevance of a translated text, scarcity of time, but also availability of adequate translators, to be considered worth translating by established publishers. Apart from institutional networks, financial aids and the occasional strategic or programmatic decision by publishers, the most important factor for a translation to take place relates to the academic prestige and intellectual reach and ‘consecration’ of the intellectual in

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question. In this respect, the Matthew effect – described by Merton (1968) on the basis of the biblical parables, as a mechanism giving disproportionate recognition to those already enjoying a high degree of recognition – reinforces the reproduction of existing power (im)balances. In particular, this mechanism is visible in the regular re-translation of a number of canonized scholars. Also, the evolution of translations of contemporary scholars such as Bourdieu follows this pattern. Only when Bourdieu published his widely acclaimed text Sur la télévision in 1996 were his (purely scholarly) works translated into many languages at a relatively fast pace (see Sapiro and Bustamante, 2009). In short, translation within the academic field mainly takes place as a result of social and academic recognition or when scholars and scientists have a self-interest in translating their own works or seeing them translated. Although translation is certainly an important enabler for the circulation of knowledge, and is at the core of early as well as contemporary institutionalization processes, it remains an undervalued practice within the academic struggles for epistemic recognition. Matters of epistemic recognition might be secondary in settings of crisis communication. However, the basic recognition of translation as a conceptual act (Ghosh, 2001), epistemic practice (Milliaressi and Berner, 2021) or form of knowledge-making (Schögler, 2018) is crucial to understanding how translators act as co-producers of meaning, thus also contributing to framing a crisis. Only rarely does the academic field acknowledge epistemic contributions of translation practices as fully fledged forms of knowledge-making. Exceptions are translations in traditionally multilingual fields within the historical sciences, the classics or in specific settings such as contextualized (re-)translations of canonized texts and ideas. More generally, the epistemic potential of translation becomes apparent in the translators’ decisions when dealing with the so-called ‘untranslatables’. Cassin dedicated the Dictionaire des Intraduisibles (2004) to concepts – such as consciousness, Glück, liberal, pleasure or sign – that seem untranslatable, as these evolved differently in their respective intellectual, linguistic, geographic and historical spaces. The translator’s epistemic power results from their agency, enabling them to overcome these instances of apparent untranslatability. Albeit only provisionally, as Hermans argues, as translations never reach a ‘definitive version’ (2019: 34) and ‘can be done again differently’ (2019: 38). This excursus tells us that knowledge translation is an act where meaning is being negotiated and, as I will argue below, such negotiations of meaning carry implications for crisis communication. These remarks on scholarly translation should further illustrate that translation cannot be separated from the contextual circumstances of selection, production and dissemination of knowledge. More importantly for crisis settings is the conclusion that while translating may be a widely used practice in research processes, its status as a means of knowledge-making and knowledge transformation is widely undervalued. Only under extraordinary circumstances are translations of products of knowledge dissemination (published books, published journal articles, research reports etc.) translated within the academic field. Further, this brief sketch of translation in the academic field implies that there is no politics of translation in place that would allow for the ad-hoc production of multilingual material and, finally, that the provisional nature of translation entails a flexibility in framing and selecting dimensions of meaning-making through translation. The latter provides potentials for adaptive use of knowledge; at the same time it implies a responsibility of translators concerning extent, framing and contextualization of knowledge translation in a crisis setting.

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CRISIS COMMUNICATION: URGENT AND SELECTIVE When disaster strikes a community, immediate mitigation strategies and a coordinated response are essential to help those in need, re-establish basic supplies and prevent further social, economic and environmental destruction. Whereas disasters are usually defined as single events, crisis can last much longer: ‘Not only are crisis situations disruptive events that occur at a specific time, in a specific region, to identifiable groups of people, but crises also have cascading effects on surrounding societies and regions, immediately and over time’ (Federici and O’Brien, 2020: 2). Communication in response to disasters takes place imminently and should be as inclusive as possible to reach all those affected. To be efficient it must convey messages that people can trust. As Federici and O’Brien (2020) state, such inclusive forms of communication can only take place if authorities, NGOs and ad-hoc response groups are prepared for these tasks. Multilingual communication, communication in different modes and via different media/channels are amongst the most widespread options to increase reach of often very heterogeneous social groups. Especially in imminent crisis settings, the parameters defining translation practices differ from non-crisis settings: ‘As the concern for accessible information of reliable, trustworthy quality clashes with resourcing issues and issues of urgency that go beyond normal parameters of sourcing language services, adaptive measures should be accepted at different stages of a crisis, provided that no other solution is available’ (Federici and O'Brien, 2020: 10). The more imminent the crisis, the more adaptations to standard translation practices are accepted by acting agents. However, the authors argue that the longer the effects of a crisis last or the more foresight is possible, the less necessity for adaptations. No matter what adaptive measures are chosen, translation in crisis is successful whenever those addressed accept the authority of the message conveyed and trust the translation. Whereas crisis communication mainly needs to be fast and provide clear guidelines for action, scientific knowledge-making is a slow process with a high degree of self-referentiality. What ties scholarly knowledge, translation and crisis communication together is that they all strive for trust and authority. Scholars seek to produce knowledge that is trusted by their peers and enjoy authority by a broad public. Translation builds on trust; otherwise, the relationship of authors, speakers and translators is shattered – it ‘collapses and the sense of deception, rejection, and abuse creeps in’ (Blumczynski, 2016: 144). Successful crisis communication builds on transferring messages to affected communities, which need to trust these messages to act accordingly in situations of distress, with high levels of uncertainty and risk. I argued that participatory forms of knowledge exchange support robust scientific knowledge and high levels of trust in such knowledge by participating communities. Producing this kind of knowledge takes time, however, and reciprocal exchanges between scholars and affected communities/addressed agents. In imminent crises, processes of participation can hardly be fully implemented. However, in cascading crises, translating scholarly knowledge in an inclusive manner in the preparatory and recovery phases of disaster situations has the potential to enhance trust in and the authority of crisisresponse strategies. In the following section I will thus elaborate on three sets of scholarly communication (transnational communication between scholars, exchanges with policymakers as well as science and society interactions) and how strategic translation practices in these three settings may contribute to crisis communication within the crisis management cycle, that is, phases of preparation, mitigation/response and long-term recovery (see Alexander, 2015).

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POTENTIALS OF KNOWLEDGE TRANSLATION IN CRISIS COMMUNICATION This section develops an understanding of specificities of translating knowledge within the crisis management cycle within three distinct settings of knowledge translation: inner-academic exchanges, exchanges between scholars/scientists with policy-makers and translations in the context of science and society interactions. First, transnational inner-academic exchanges using English as a global language, and many other languages as regional lingua franca (for French, see Dervin, 2008; for Arabic, Greek and Latin, see Montgomery, 2000), secure the global circulation of knowledge. In this setting, translation increases reach of knowledge within the academic sphere. Translations contribute to the spread of knowledge and facilitate training researchers in local languages, but also enable dissemination of ideas in language-specific research outlets. For crisis settings, inner-academic knowledge circulation becomes a prerequisite with contextual relevance. What kinds of knowledge become relevant depends on the crisis at hand: in climate change-related crises, this can range from methods to measure atmospheric components to historical accounts of dealing with droughts or knowledge on nudging strategies developed in behavioural economics. The second kind of communicative act is exchanges between scholars/scientists with policy-makers and other agents involved in managing crisis response and recovery strategies. In contrast to the first situation, this involves multilingual translatorial transformations of inner-academic discourses (either written in a lingua franca or in local languages) for non-specialist audiences. The third setting encompasses translations in the context of science and society interactions, which involve dissemination of scholarly knowledge for trust-building, as well as (participatory) on-site knowledge-making practices. In this last context, translation can become part of participatory knowledge-making practices aimed at increasing trust in and the authority of crisis preparation or response measures. What then, are the potentials of translation in these three settings regarding communication in phases of crisis preparation, mitigation/ response and recovery?

Potentials of inner-academic translation in cascading crises As laid out in the first section of this chapter, established logics of translation within the academic field are not particularly prone to diversification of knowledge, nor are translation policies in place that ensure epistemic diversity to thrive. In very general terms, translation within the academic field into and out of a variety of languages is the cornerstone for the (global) authority of science and thus particularly relevant for long-term preparations in times of (global) cascading crisis. Contemporarily, a certain linguistic variety can be observed in institutions training new cohorts of researchers. Less variety can be found in scholarly publication strategies as these remain centred on English as a (con)temporary lingua franca. In the natural and technical sciences, the proportion of publications in English, used as lingua franca, had already reached more than 50 per cent in the 1950s and has increased to more than 90 per cent since the turn of the millennium (see Ammon, 2012: 338). In the social sciences and humanities, it had taken until the mid-1970s for 50 per cent of publications to be published in English, which increased to about 75 per cent by 2005 (Ammon, 2012: 339). To increase the availability of transnational expertise on a wide variety of topics, inner-academic reward mechanisms would have to be altered to encourage multilingual publishing strategies,

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and set up international exchanges in languages other than global or regionally dominant linguae francae. Besides indirect effects on epistemic diversity, such measures would also strengthen the development of specialist languages and terminologies that could be tapped for communicating from within the scientific sphere in crisis situations. In phases of mitigation and response to crises, inner-scientific dissemination and translation strategies can hardly be separated from communication with policy-makers. In the first months of the COVID-19 pandemic, about 85 per cent of articles ‘defined as “Global research on coronavirus disease”’ (Taşkın et al., 2020) by the WHO were published in English. In terms of speed and urgency, this agreement on one language of communication certainly supports academic knowledge-making and knowledgecirculation, and may even be helpful for facilitating a concerted transnational crisis response. However, in an article in The Lancet, the observation was made that when (mostly) Chinese scientists followed the inner-academic logic of publishing in (prestigious) journals in English, this ‘led to great concerns because these findings cannot directly benefit frontline health professionals and policy makers [in China] because of the language barrier’ (Xian et al., 2020: 684). While the orientation towards a lingua franca clearly contributed to increasing awareness of the virus within the medical profession, and among virologists and other related fields, this strategy at the same time excluded local response teams from accessing potentially relevant studies. For scientific data and knowledge to be applicable, suitable, acceptable and contextually appropriate among communities affected by (cascading) crises, only a major shift in the logics governing translation of academic thought may alleviate unequal power relationships within global knowledge-making systems. This becomes particularly evident in figurative and practical translation practices taking place between unequal ‘centres’ and ‘peripheries’ of scientific power. Epistemologies clash whenever translation departs from these ‘fringes’ of knowledge-making to reach its ‘centres’. Such translation processes range from basic ontological questions concerning ‘equivalents’ to scientific thinking in different philosophies. Mika discusses different stances taken on the relationship of science and the Aotearoaen concept of mātauranga Māori, which describes ‘the idea that all things in the world are interconnected’ (2021: 48) and ‘even though there is very different engagement with the world between western and Māori thought, and thus there is no direct commensurability between the two, speculative dialogue is nevertheless possible’ (2021: 53). A commonly accepted form of expertise of translators lies in their knowledge of cultural specificities; in times of cascading crisis and knowledge translation, this would entail knowledge of diverging epistemologies, ontologies and maybe even cosmologies. Translators working in crisis settings would profit from pre-existing engagement with forms of thought that seem incommensurable with Western scientific thought. The consequences of such preparations are far-reaching. On a systemic level, this entails debiasing scientific and scholarly knowledge-production from an understanding of the world seen from the ‘Global North’ by increasing efforts to transnationalize practices of ‘organized scepticism’. This includes verifying theoretical assumptions or empirical results in different parts of the globe and reflecting on whether they are compatible with divergent local epistemologies. Although research and practices set up to ‘decolonize’ the university (Bhambra, Gebrial and Nişancıoğlu, 2018) point at systemic failures to promote diverse knowledge epistemologies, such an approach is currently not common practice in science translation. There is no easy solution to increasing epistemic variety in scientific knowledge-making, which could, henceforth, prepare humans for future crises,

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most pertinently the social and natural effects of climatic upheavals. Instead of focusing on altering language policies in all areas of academic life, one could turn to (academic) translator training. For instance, Bennett (2013) suggests raising consciousness of the epistemic violence resulting from normative expectations of English Academic Discourse (EAD), and more generally calls for enhancing translators’ reflexive knowledge of epistemic diversity. In this respect, translator training could include modules reflecting on the epistemic power of translations and the potential agency of translators in re-framing, re-contextualizing and re-conceptualizing knowledge. For phases of recovery, the same potentials apply that were discussed above for translation in phases of preparation. If the aim of crisis communication can be assumed to be communicating as inclusively as possible, scientific and scholarly knowledge-making should reflect this stance. In practice, this would entail the formulation of explicit translation policies, funding structures and exchange fora that implement forms of decentralized knowledge-making against currently dominant logics governing translation in the academic field. Within the academic field, stakeholders engaging in the development of such translation policies could be found in national and international research funding bodies, but universities and other research institutions could also develop incentives for linguistic diversity in knowledge dissemination. These policies could be connected to already-existing open-access policies and other efforts to make scholarly knowledge publicly accessible. Furthermore, possible clues for developing such translation policies can draw from recent adaptations in language policies by international NGOs such as Amnesty International or Tearfund (see Bonallack, 2018; Tesseur, 2018).

Potentials of knowledge translation in exchanges with policy-makers in cascading crises Especially in cascading and global crises such as those related to climate change, international nongovernmental organizations and international organizations are crucial providers of scientific and scholarly expertise and participate in coordinating multilingual responses to crises. Therefore, I suggest exploring the potentials of knowledge translation in the context of exchanges with policy-makers throughout the emergency management cycle, not merely within the realm of translation in the academic field but also as forms of institutional translation. The main source material used for translation of scientific and scholarly knowledge for policy-makers are reports, studies and other scientific materials produced within international (non-)governmental organizations. Like other societal groups, policy-makers prefer to read and be informed in their own languages (see Federici and O’Brien, 2020: 12), which means that relying on English (or a small set of official languages) restricts the potentials of such encounters. Again, setting up translation policies and practices in the preparation phase seems particularly crucial to increase the reach of specialized expertise. Currently, international organizations producing expertise for policy-makers already implement linguistic diversity to a certain extent. Owing to scarce resources (and a lack of strategic language policies) translation remains restricted to selected materials. The European Environment Agency (EEA) is an organization that, according to its selfpresentation, publishes materials that ‘provides sound, independent information on the environment for those involved in developing, adopting, implementing and evaluating environmental policy, and also the general public’ (see https://www.eea.europa.eu/about-

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us). Although translation is not mentioned explicitly in strategy documents (European Environment Agency, 2021), one would expect that its strategy – to ‘develop in communication approaches, channels and tools in order to ensure that our knowledge is understandable, available and reachable by all’ (European Environment Agency, 2021: 12) – implies that translation is essential. In practice, the EEA only translates documents into official languages of the European Union and beyond (e.g. Arabic, Turkish) if they are deemed important enough for a broad public (European Environment Agency, 2015). Another organization producing climate change-related knowledge on a global scale is the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC). This agency, established by the United Nations and the World Meteorological Organization (WMO) in 1988, has positioned itself as a major communicator between science and policy in the field of climate research (Sundqvist et al., 2018: 448). It is responsible for reports on technical and scientific matters related to global warming and climate change and, although it is strongly connected to the political sphere, it values its scientific independence (Sundqvist et al., 2018: 449). Experts from over 130 countries contribute to the reports published by the IPCC, but it has not developed a translation strategy independent from UN language policies. Consequently, the WMO Language Conference and Publishing Services Department produces major reports in the official languages of the UN. Considering that the number of official languages increased from two (English and French) in 1946 to six – English, Arabic, Chinese, French, Russian and Spanish – by the 1980s, this already (potentially) reaches an impressive share of the world population. More than 2.8 billion people, or about half of the world’s population, share one of the official languages in which documents produced by the IPCC/UN are disseminated. Furthermore, some countries and institutions commission additional translations of policy-relevant materials that are then published on the website of the IPCC. An example would be a central document laying out possible consequences of global warming, the report Global Warming of 1.5°C (IPCC, 2018). Soon after publication, the report saw translations into German implemented with resources from German ministries, a Portuguese version commissioned by the Brazilian government, and a Swedish edition published with support from the Swedish IPCC national contact point. Even though the non-official IPCC translations are labelled as such, their production is far from amateurish, as these are commissioned by (local) government authorities and implemented by language professionals. There is also no reason to make concessions on translation quality in the preparation phase of crisis, when engaging with knowledge translation for policy-makers. By further expanding language and translation strategies such as those illustrated with practices of the EEA or IPCC, transnational political and scientific organizations could increase the reach of their expertise – as long as addressees share a notion of the concepts used in these documents. In the long run, reciprocal exchange between (local) policy-makers and those organizations producing expertise based on scientific knowledge could further assist the production of context- and location-sensitive scientific knowledge-making. This implies that particularly in phases of recovery, organizations responsible for producing expertise on a global scale set up strategies enabling them to gather local and situational knowledge of a crisis setting, which will be discussed in the next section. Primarily, multilingual publishing practices and explicit translation strategies of international institutions could support a reflection on divergences in knowledge use by these organizations and by local policy-makers. It could also contribute to (open-access) multilingual terminology-building and indirectly lead to specializing translators in areas where the market is rather restricted (see explanations on the functioning of translation in the academic field above). The

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main task for international organizations, however, would be to recognize translation as a strategic practice that can enhance the aims of their missions, instead of accepting the power of foundational multilingualism (Joscelyne, 2000: 81) as a given. Pioneers in that matter are some international NGOs that have implemented strategies to decentralize communication and thus translation strategies. Amongst other things, they adapt organizational structures to create regional hubs in regions important to their activities (for Amnesty International, see Bonallack, 2018 or Tesseur, 2018), which invariably gives these hubs more autonomy in adapting their communication strategies to local needs. Most importantly, I suggest the implementation of reflexive translation policies, aimed at protecting science from political appropriation, on the one hand, and aimed at developing translation strategies assisting a pluricentric framing of a crisis, its effects and possible response strategies. The entanglements of expertise and policy-making in crisis sometimes lead communities to dismiss scientific evidence, not least because even when politicians have a genuine interest in coordinating a successful response and recovery from a crisis, their primary aim rests in bolstering their political power and thus selecting those bits of expertise that fit their (political) narrative and their chosen response to a crisis setting. For instance, focusing on how foreigners ‘import’ a virus fits into right-wing political narratives, which was repeatedly used in the COVID-19 crisis. Even if there is some scientific evidence for these ‘imports’, focusing primarily on these in response to a health crisis, might not be the most promising way forward, especially if the virus activity is already strong within a community. Furthermore, implementing a reflexive translation policy would thus mean taking these questions of power and knowledge seriously when selecting information to translate into local languages, but also when selecting outlets and spokespersons that transmit this information to policy-makers and/or the larger public. Such a reflexive translation policy could start by assessing where political interest in prioritizing response is particularly pronounced, and whether these priorities are in accordance with the aims of international humanitarian missions. Based on such an assessment, translation strategies might be developed that contribute to levelling the (local) political playing field and minimizing the societal and economic impact of a crisis for entire communities (or those most at risk). One could then ask: What kinds of knowledge need to be translated to achieve this aim? Are there local languages or communities that need more direct access to knowledge in order to prepare for, mitigate or recover from a crisis? Which limitations to evidence-based expertise need to be laid out for policy-makers in order to secure long-term trust in and the authority of scientific explanations? The answers to these questions are not universal; rather they depend on specificities of locations and situations. This is also what defines translation in science and society interactions in cascading crisis.

Potentials of translation in science and society interactions in cascading crises For a long time, science and society interactions have been dominated by a model built on the premise of one-way information processes aiming at educating an allegedly ignorant public. This form of knowledge translation follows the logic of the ‘deficit model’, a model originally formulated by Wynne in the 1980s, which ‘holds that the reason why citizens fail to “behave sensibly” in the light of scientific facts must be their ignorance of those facts’ (Horlick-Jones and Prades, 2015: 812). According to this logic, citizens

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have a knowledge ‘deficit’, which science needs to address to narrow the ‘communication gap’. It was assumed that translating science from its international linguae francae into vernaculars and adapting specialized discourse for broader audiences would increase not only public understanding of science but also acceptance, authority and (financial) support for scientific endeavours. There are some obvious potentials of translation in science communication in times of cascading crisis that widely follow the logics of the deficit model, that is, that help to supply knowledge to scientifically ‘ignorant’ communities. In preparatory phases, translating knowledge into vernaculars can increase science literacy, which in the long run may increase trust and authority of evidence-based crisis response. When responding to a crisis, translation of scientific findings, but also scholarly interpretations, increase the reach of a message, without, however, knowing whether the affected communities share the meaning of the messages (see reference to Cadag 2020 below). In phases of recovery, translating scientific and scholarly knowledge for larger publics can aim at educating publics concerning specific risks of certain behaviours. To a greater or lesser extent, these measures are inscribed in the logics of the ‘deficit model’, as in these efforts, translation is simply a means to reach ‘new’ audiences, and adaptations to complexity or scope of translated materials will lead to even greater reach. To achieve greater ‘robustness’ of knowledge and to make use of this ‘robustness’ in cascading crises, I suggest following a different approach to translation where reciprocal interaction between scientists/scholars and local communities is encouraged. The deficit model has been widely criticized for basing its claims on methodologically unfit parameters, by measuring knowledge in standardized ways or by not considering other factors that might explain (negative) attitudes towards science (see Sturgis and Allum, 2004: 57). Also, it neglects the importance of contextual knowledge concerning basic premises of scientific methodologies and the functioning of scientific institutions (Sturgis and Allum, 2004: 58). Furthermore, it is now recognized that ‘shifting citizen behaviour amounts to far more than a matter of informing’ (Horlick-Junes and Prades, 2015: 812). For one thing, credibility and authority of knowledge depend on who informs: SanzMenéndez and Cruz-Castro illustrate that when provided with ‘the same information, produced by scientists, on the evolution of CO2 emissions in Spain…, information is more credible if supplied by the scientific institutions themselves than supplied by the government or the business sector’ (2019: 547). Approaches taking this stance on the relationship of science and society argue that social ‘robustness’ of knowledge necessitates communication strategies allowing for reciprocal interaction. More precisely, these interactions must provide spaces where experiential knowledge and scientific/scholarly meaning-making can be connected to each other. In the context of cascading crises, I would assume that robustness of knowledge depends on whether abstract scientific knowledge has the capacity to represent geographic, spatial, and collective peculiarities of a complex phenomenon. As Jasanoff argues, ‘[w]hen it comes to nature, human societies seem to demand not only objectively claimed matters of fact but also subjectively appreciated facts that matter’ (2010: 248). Brought into the context of cascading crises, very practical examples of ‘misunderstanding’ information and solutions found to that problem illustrate the potentials of translation in participatory knowledge-making. Cadag (2020: 181) illustrates how diverging interpretations of the term ‘storm surge’ by scientists, local policy-makers, and members of the communities on the islands of Leyte and Samar in the central Philippines led to a lack of preparation. It was later found that there was a lack of understanding of ‘the information on warning’ (2020)

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by local populations. A simple translation was not possible, because, as Cadag points out, ‘there are no local terms’ (2020) for ‘storm surge’ and concepts rooted in English and other European languages ‘do not have universal meaning for everyone’ (2020: 182). Such asymmetries of languages are not uncommon, but what makes them interesting in crisis communication is that these are closely related to asymmetries of power (see Schippel, 2019: 206 in reference to Prunč’s concept of ‘translation culture’), that is, the social conditions in which translation takes place and which are relevant in negotiating meaning. Cadag also recognizes very correctly that in the case of disaster research considering ‘the cultural and social contexts’ (2020: 182) implies developing techniques for coproducing knowledge on the ground capable of grasping context-appropriate meanings. Methodologically, he pleads for participatory techniques of qualitative research – based on visualizations, mapping, drawing, interviews and so on – to foster an understanding of risks, measures and response strategies based on the interpretations of local communities. He observes that in disaster settings ‘language needs are “situational”’ (2020: 178) and that participatory methods of knowledge-making lead to an engagement with diversities of meaning-making and languages of affected communities (2020: 194). Cronin (2018) also supports the view that translation is an essential practice for developing inclusive approaches to negotiating knowledge on global political, social and environmental questions. Translation in science and society interactions in crisis settings is thus not only a means of transferring knowledge to affected communities but – when implemented within participatory research projects – also enables reciprocal learning, meaning-making and the production of socially robust knowledge. The potentials of translation in science and society interactions throughout the emergency management cycle cannot be separated from how scientific and scholarly knowledge is applied, used, and produced in cascading crises. Following the assumptions underlying two models describing the science and society relationship leads to different conclusions for translation practices. The first model – the ‘deficit’ model – is based on the assumptions of a lack of (scientific) knowledge in societies that can be addressed by informing publics, which will henceforth strengthen the authority of such knowledge and facilitate the implementation of adequate policies. The second model – the ‘contextual’ model  –  assumes that knowledge and meaning-making are deeply situational, putting experiential knowledge and scientific knowledge on par when it comes to its authority. Following the deficit model implies that scientific and scholarly knowledge should be translated into a wide variety of languages to increase trust and authority of evidencebased measures (in all phases of crises). However, while translating results, key findings or conclusions of a study can be implemented rapidly  –  as is the case with specialized reports by the IPCC – it is much more difficult to translate basic assumptions underlying this knowledge and what lead to its production. Conclusions based on a contextual model of meaning-making will focus on translation as an activity participating in negotiating meaning, that is, implementing translation and interpreting in participatory research agendas, which allow for situational adaptations of (abstract) scientific and scholarly concepts.

CONCLUSION Communication in crisis settings is usually divided into phases of preparation, mitigation, response and recovery. In all four phases scholarly and scientific knowledge are central in providing authority to crisis communicators and/or in producing situated expertise. In

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this chapter I argued that translation of knowledge in a cascading crisis may contribute to strengthening the authority of both scientific knowledge as well as messages conveyed by crisis communications. To realize this widely untapped potential it is, however, not possible to rely on patterns of translation currently well established in the academic field. Within academia, translation is a means of transnational communication complementing the use of a (regional or global) lingua franca and is either the result of personal necessities of researchers or a sign of symbolic recognition. In settings of cascading crisis – such as those induced by anthropogenic climate change – the potentials of translation of knowledge are to be found elsewhere and emanate from the complex relationship between science and society. The main capacity of knowledge translation lies in the ability of this practice to transgress and transform meaning-making. Like any other translation process, translators – if given/ exercising agency – can influence what is being translated (e.g. by selecting the most relevant material), how it is translated (e.g. in terms of register) and can decide on degrees of contextualization (from ‘easy language leaflets’ for vaccination strategies to additional footnotes on geographical specificities in field reports for readers not acquainted with local circumstances). Translation is thus potentially a practice contributing to increasing epistemic varieties and increasing the social robustness of knowledge-making. Although this process may increase the authority of knowledge and raise awareness for negative consequences of acting in a particular manner, this increased accessibility of knowledge does not necessarily result in behavioural changes in communities potentially affected by an imminent crisis. In many instances, individual and collective awareness of behaviours harmful for oneself and others is disconnected from whether these behaviours are collectively accepted or not. Examples range from the COVID-19 ‘free nose guy’ (Bacevic, 2021) to smoking tobacco, aeroplane travel or regular consumption of meat. In conclusion, translation, even when understood as an epistemic practice, can only bolster the authority of scholarly knowledge in particular settings, and implementing inclusive translation practices will not automatically lead to changes of behaviour. Nonetheless, translation is essential for taking into account ‘civic epistemologies’ (Jasanoff, 2010: 239) by translating local voices and experiential knowledge into the knowledge-making cycle. Future potentials of knowledge translation in phases of preparation, mitigation, response and recovery to crisis lie in broadening participation in meaning-making, while providing affected communities with opportunities to develop (or maintain) their epistemic self-reliance and scholars, scientists and policy-makers the opportunity to gain an understanding of situational needs, special interests and diversities of situational meaning.

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PART II

Practices: People, Technologies, Processes

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CHAPTER EIGHT

A Multiparty Perspective on the Provision of Signed Language Interpreters during the COVID-19 Press Briefings in Belgium KAROLIEN GEBRUERS, LIEN VERMEIRE AND JARON GARITTE

INTRODUCTION The COVID-19 health crisis in 2020 hit hard in Belgium as is shown in its high mortality figures, which attracted widespread criticism. The National Crisis Centre (NCCN), the Federal Health Department and Sciensano (a public research institution focusing on science and health), however, were praised for their transparent communicative approach, with experts and spokespersons, rather than politicians, frequently informing the Belgian citizens about the pandemic (Brunsden and Kahn, 2020). These press briefings were live-interpreted into both Flemish Sign Language (VGT) and French Belgian Sign Language (LSFB). This was unprecedented in Belgian history, particularly as it was undertaken by co-interpreting teams of deaf and hearing interpreters. The deaf interpreters (DIs) were visible on-screen and took relay from hearing interpreters (HIs) who worked from spoken Dutch and French into VGT and LSFB respectively. The same team of co-interpreters worked at the press conferences held by the Belgian government at which the COVID-19 measures were announced. This chapter focuses on the Flemish context and takes a phenomenological approach (Lester, 1999). It documents the lived experiences of service providers, that is speakers and interpreters of Dutch-VGT at press briefings, as well as service receivers, or deaf and hearing viewers. The data were gathered from semi-structured interviews, complemented by the authors’ notes and experiences, adopting an observer-participant approach (Denscombe, 2010: 206–7). We hope to inform individual interpreters, deaf and interpreter organizations, governments and crisis communication services by sharing this practice and offering an insight into its complexity. To contextualize this study, an overview is given of COVID-19 crisis communication in Belgium. Relevant literature in relation to the provision of signed language interpreters (SLIs) in media settings and at press briefings related to crisis communication will be discussed.

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The COVID-19 pandemic in Belgium On 12 March 2020 the (former) Belgian prime minister Sophie Wilmès declared the ‘federal phase’ of emergency management and Belgium entered its first lockdown. The communication teams of the National Crisis Centre (NCCN), the Federal Health Department and Sciensano teamed up to form the ‘information cell’, responsible for official crisis communication on health measures, Covid-19 restrictions and statistics relevant to the pandemic. Together, they managed the official communication channels, such as the website info-coronavirus.be, social media pages, the telephone information line and daily – later weekly – press conferences. In addition, they coordinated a network of communication professionals working in other government departments on a national, regional or local level, and outlined the national crisis communication strategy. To determine this strategy, the information cell used the Crisis Communication Work Process (CCWP), a pragmatic model for crisis communication, ‘founded on many years of observation and evaluation of real and simulated crisis interventions and on numerous scientific insights resulting from recent empirical research’ (Marynissen et al., 2016: 1). This model tries to map the differences between the population’s perception on the outside of the crisis management team and the reality of the crisis on the inside of this team, in order to build a communication strategy that allows the team to establish a trusted relationship with the public and position itself as an official and reliable information source. Data are collected from social media, radio and TV coverage and incoming calls to a telephone information line; they are then analysed and categorized into ‘information’ (what do people know), ‘behaviour’ (how do people handle the situation) and ‘sense-making’ (what kind of emotions are invoked). The result of this analysis shapes and informs a strategy, which delineates the appropriate communication channels, necessary spokespersons, possible stakeholders, key messages, priorities and target groups. The COVID-19 crisis was unprecedented in Belgium in terms of both scale and duration. The virus, as well as the measures to stop the virus, had an impact on the whole of Belgian society. The list of target groups, stakeholders and demands for adapted communication channels was never bigger. The NCCN tried to adopt an inclusive crisis communication approach, aiming to reach as broad a target audience as possible, by providing easyto-understand information via accessible channels (Vermeire, 2020). Wherever needed, extra tools and services were added to reduce possible barriers even further. Translation and interpreting proved to be two vital factors in this approach (see e.g. O’Brien, 2019). Texts, audio messages and videos about the coronavirus were made available in the three national spoken languages of Belgium: Dutch, French and German. Much of this content was rewritten in plain language and translated into twenty-six languages. Additionally, informative videos were produced in the three signed languages of Belgium, namely VGT, LSFB and German Sign Language. Next to establishing a multilingual website, the NCCN provided interpreters to interpret the COVID-19 live broadcasts into both VGT and LSFB (see Gebruers and Haesenne, 2021, for an extensive account about how this practice originated and developed).

Signed language interpreting in media settings For deaf people, receiving information in signed language is a vital element of crisis communication (McKee, 2014). The COVID-19 crisis forced governments to rapidly have interpreters in place. Consequently, interpreters have been displayed on screens more than ever, making signed language increasingly visible worldwide. However,

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research on signed language interpreting in media settings, specifically pertaining to crisis communication, has remained scarce. De Wit, Perez and Peterson (2020) reported on the first European seminar about signed language interpreting on television and media, held in 2019. They documented challenges regarding this type of work, such as having no set standards, the lack of specific training to work in these settings, interpreters not properly displayed on screen and television stations resisting employing deaf interpreters. Interpreting in media settings implies high expectations concerning quality (Kurz and Mikulasek, 2004). As Paal Richard Peterson and his colleagues underlined at the seminar, TV interpreting work comes with a great responsibility. Important prerequisites for the interpreter include signed language fluency, being familiar with variation in signs and consciously considering sign choices (de Wit, Perez and Peterson, 2020). Interpreters participating in the seminar indicated experiencing difficulties on a personal level. Working in these settings is experienced as highly demanding and stressful, typically dealing with dense contents, fast-talking speakers and a lack of direct feedback as the audience is not visually present (see also McKee, 2014). Additionally, as interpreters working in television and media settings are by nature publicly exposed, their interpretations can become a matter for debate on social media for instance (de Wit, Perez and Peterson, 2020). Neves (2007) discusses accessibility and the pros and cons of subtitles, as well as SLIs on television. She acknowledges that service providers often make bona fide efforts but urges them to question their own knowledge of the needs and aspirations of the target audience, and viewers to reflect on what they want and how to communicate it. According to Neves (2007: 15) hearing people may perceive interpreters on screen ‘as an unwelcome intruder’. Subtitles are more easily accepted as in most countries people have become accustomed to them during past decades. Although there has not been a specific training programme for deaf interpreters in Flanders until recently, deaf people have always been carrying out interpreting work informally (e.g. for deaf peers at the deaf school) and formally (e.g. at conferences) in settings with deaf-blind people and deaf migrants (De Meulder and Heyerick, 2013: 119). However, their work has only become more visible during the last decade. Since 2012, the public broadcaster VRT in Flanders has worked with DIs for the pre-recorded youth news and with HIs for the general live evening news. De Meulder and Heyerick (2013) reported on the process preceding this decision and formulated nine dimensions, shown in Table 8.1, to argue why DIs, having the proper skills and attitude, can and should work in television settings, rather than HIs. Rijckaert and Dhoest (2020) studied deaf people’s experiences watching the evening news with HIs and attested the interpretation was not easily understood for multiple reasons: the interpretation was not sufficiently coherent, contained errors and was influenced by Dutch. Technical and practical issues, such as high pace, complexity, lack of preparation time, overflow of visual information and synchronization difficulties, also contributed to the comprehension problems, and deaf people’s own knowledge of news topics greatly varied. Rijckaert and Dhoest (2020) suggested an alternative format in which a deaf presenter summarizes the news items in VGT. We will discuss later how this might apply to crisis communication.

Signed language interpreting in crisis communication settings McKee (2014) described interpreted television broadcasts related to disasters triggered by natural hazards in Australia and New Zealand in 2011. She listed the linguistic demands

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TABLE 8.1  The Nine Dimensions of working with DIs (Based on De Meulder and Heyerick, 2013) Dimension

Features

1

Practical

Adjustments can make it work.

2

Political

HIs can be employed in many other areas.

3

Empowerment

DIs function as role models (cf. Stone, 2005) and illustrate deaf people’s ability to undertake this work.

4

Cultural

DIs are cultural insiders and share experiences with the deaf audience; they ‘think as other Deaf people think, relying primarily on their visual experience of the world and visual conceptualization of information’ (Stone, 2009: 167). The shared language and experience of deaf interpreters, or ‘sameness’, is important in building a relationship and securing effective communication (Boudreault, 2005: 335).

5

Responsibility

DIs know what it means to receive information via a third person and are more aware of the consequences the interpretation has for deaf people.

6

Linguistic

DIs have a greater fluency in signed language and, as Stone (2009: 104-5) points out; they take on a participant perspective and produce ‘a domesticated’ output, making it easier for the audience to focus on the content.

7

Language ownership

DIs are language role-models and the audience prefers to see first language users (cf. Kyle, 2007).

8

Process/modality

DIs are less influenced by the spoken language, leading to a more ‘Deaf-centered’ output, which is an essential aspect of the Deaf Translation Norm (Stone, 2009).

9

Motivation

DIs’ motivation focuses on empowerment and linguistic reasons.

experienced by the interpreters, such as highly technical jargon and the speakers’ fast pace, which make preparation and prior knowledge essential elements to cope. Additionally, she documented the emotional burden on interpreters from constantly interpreting bad news whilst also personally experiencing the events. However, she found that being closely involved in the situation made the interpreters feel they were contributing to a collective emergency response. SLIs working at COVID-19 press briefings across the globe have been sharing their experiences as well. Interpreters working in the United States and Australia expressed feeling tremendously responsible to make sure the message is accurately delivered in their signed languages (Stine, 2021; Tregenza, 2020). An interpreter for English-Australian Sign Language underlined the ‘emotional toll’ that comes with interpreting live crisis communication (Tregenza, 2020). Much interpreting work can have an emotional and psychological impact on interpreters (Hetherington, 2011; see Hubscher-Davidson, 2018 for an extensive account on emotional involvement in translation work and its implications) and risks to vicarious trauma cannot be overlooked (Bontempo and Malcolm, 2012).

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In response to the local exposure to natural hazards in Australia and New Zealand, deaf people were positive towards the interpreted broadcasts (McKee, 2014). They showed appreciation and also felt acknowledged as a community by being included in crisis communication. The experience of seeing familiar faces conveying information in their language created a sense of reassurance. In relation to hazardous weather information in the United States, Wood and Weisman (2003) underscored that access for deaf people is essential for them to make informed decisions. Leeson (2020) described the context of access to emergency information about storms in Ireland and found that deaf citizens are the ones who are burdened with ensuring said access. Next to the actual interpreting work at crisis communication briefings, interpreters feel they have a role to play in educating the wider public about deaf people and signed languages (McKee, 2014; Stine, 2021; Scott, 2020; Tregenza, 2020). Interpreters working at televised broadcasts about natural hazards in Australia and New Zealand received social media and press attention (McKee, 2014). Although non-signing people generally responded positively to seeing the interpreters on screen (with New-Zealand having had an increase of people attending signed language courses), some people in Australia perceived the interpreters to be distracting. Signed language interpreting practices at COVID-19 briefings varied across the globe. Some countries engaged hearing interpreters only (e.g. the Netherlands), while others provided deaf interpreters on screen as co-interpreting was already a well-established approach (e.g. British Columbia in Canada); some countries, such as Belgium, introduced co-interpreting for the first time. The majority of SLIs are not yet fully aware of the values of co-interpreting practices, which is a topic that needs more attention in training programmes and professional development training for both deaf and hearing interpreters to facilitate teamwork (cf. Cogen and Cokely, 2015; Forestal, 2014). Deaf interpreters working at COVID-19 press updates in the United States considered the rapport with hearing interpreters to be ‘a very important relationship’ (Stine, 2021). SLIs do not work in a vacuum, their work is by nature embedded in relationships with other parties (Brunson, 2017; Turner, 2007), and their services exist because of having deaf (and hearing) people using them. As the practice of co-interpreting at live broadcasted press briefings was a first for Belgium, it is essential to study how this practice has been experienced by both service receivers and service providers.

METHODOLOGY In order to examine the experiences from service receivers as well as service providers, we undertook a qualitative study. Semi-structured interviews were conducted with ten participants: three deaf viewers, three hearing viewers, two SLIs (one deaf and one hearing) and two (hearing) speakers at press briefings (see Tables 8.2 and 8.3 for an overview of the participants’ background and the interview details). Six interviews took place on online platforms; four were held in-person. The deaf viewers were sourced from the first author’s network, based on the criteria that they have been following the interpreted press briefings, belong to different age groups and regularly work with interpreters. The hearing viewers, who belong to similar age groups, were approached by the second author. The interpreters and speakers at press briefings were involved from the outset of the COVID-19 announcements. The interviews took place between October 2020 and January 2021, more than six months after the first interpreted press conference. The interview questions were adapted to each participant group, focusing on

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TABLE 8.2  Overview of Participants and Interview Details – Service Receivers Participant

Age range

Gender

Background information

Deaf viewer 1

60–70 years

female

retired

- online - 38 minutes - in VGT by the first author

20–30 years

male

student

- online - 32 minutes - in VGT by the first author

30–40 years

female

working

- online - 51 minutes - in VGT by the first author

18–20y

female

student

- online - 33 minutes - in Dutch by the second author

60–70y

male

working

- online - 62 minutes - in Dutch by the second author

30–40y

female

working

- online - 28 minutes - in Dutch by the second author

(DV1) Deaf viewer 2 (DV2) Deaf viewer 3 (DV3) Hearing viewer 1 (HV1) Hearing viewer 2 (HV2) Hearing viewer 3 (HV3)

Interview

TABLE 8.3  Overview of Participants and Interview Details – Service Providers Gender

Background information

Participant

Age range

Interview

Deaf interpreter (DI)

20–30 years male

working at the press briefings since March 2020

- in-person - 39 minutes - in VGT by the first author

Hearing interpreter (HI)

30-40 years

female

working at the press briefings since March 2020

- in-person - 39 minutes - in Dutch by the first author

Speaker 1 (SP1)

40–50y

male

- scientist - in-person - working for Sciensano - 23 minutes - in Dutch by the first and second author

Speaker 2 (SP2)

40–50y

male

- spokesperson - working for NCCN

- in-person - 37 minutes - in Dutch by the first and second author

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key aspects such as prior knowledge of signed language(s) (interpreting), experiences of (seeing and/or working with) SLIs, the personal impact of interpreted press briefings and future aspirations. This small-scale study attempts to document the lived experiences of service receivers as well as providers. We do not claim to be able to generalize about the statements. Deaf people are not to be seen as a homogenous group; being deaf implies ‘an increasingly complex set of identities and language practices’ (Kusters, De Meulder and O’Brien, 2017: 14), and, like any language community, the sociolinguistic makeup of the speakers or signers is affected by multiple markers, gender, education, age and so on. This diversity and complexity, which is often overlooked by outsiders, have a great impact on how deaf people experience communication and access (De Meulder and Haualand, 2019: 23). We acknowledge that our findings represent only a small selection of signed language communities; they are not reflective of the greater diversity. Additionally, the interviews with the deaf viewers were conducted by the first co-author who is hearing and part of the co-interpreting team, which might have impacted the interaction and the participants’ responses. Ideally, the third co-author, who is deaf, would liaise with the deaf viewers, but as he was the on-screen interpreter, the interviewees might be more reluctant to express their thoughts to him. The hearing viewers were sourced from the second coauthor’s network, and might already be open-minded towards communication in general, which might have affected their responses. All interviews, which were video-recorded, were jointly transcribed, reviewed and thematically analysed in order to look for relevant topics and patterns (Hale and Napier, 2013: 103). The data drove the identification of the themes aiming for a rich description of the data set (Braun and Clarke, 2006). The themes we will be expanding on and discussing in relation to previous literature are the visibility of signed language and deaf interpreters, viewing experience, collaboration and the future of signed language (interpreting) in crisis communication.

RESULTS AND DISCUSSION The visibility of signed language and deaf interpreters When asked about their knowledge of signed language and its relation to spoken language, all hearing viewers and both speakers admitted having little to none. However, seeing an interpreter at work, either on-screen or in-person, did spark their interest. They acknowledged that it captured their attention and made them wonder about the specificities of signed language and how it works. For HV2 and SP1, even the alternating use of VGT and LSFB was a surprise, thinking signed language was universal. As SP1 confessed, ‘No, it was shameful to realise how little I knew about it. I think it’s a cliché, why isn’t signed language universal? I didn’t even know there’s a French Sign Language, a British Sign Language, let alone there are also dialects’. An extract from general responses to social media posts of the NCCN and the Federal Health Department shows anecdotal evidence for a similar lack of awareness about deaf people, signed languages and interpreting, but equally, an admiration for their work. Following particularly long and complex press conferences, when new measures were announced, interpreters were frequently applauded on social media. The press also paid attention to them. Several newspapers and some television programmes featured interviews with ‘the young man wearing glasses’ (who is co-authoring this chapter), as

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he became a public face for the press briefings. Even more memorable was the moment in which Prime Minister Alexander De Croo explicitly thanked the interpreters for their efforts in 2020. For the deaf viewers, the greater visibility and the possibility of creating more awareness about deaf people, signed language and interpreters was a silver lining. The comments deaf viewers received were positive. DV2 even noticed a shift in behaviour from his teachers at school, who started showing more respect after the press paid attention to the work of a deaf interpreter and stated, ‘There’s a big difference between “before” and “after”’, illustrating a direct personal impact. Nonetheless, both DV2 and DI were relieved that the public attention was kept to a reasonable level, in contrast to other countries, such as the Netherlands, where the (hearing) interpreter signing ‘HOARDING’ became a viral meme that also circulated in Belgium. DI suggested it might have to do with deaf interpreters’ more subtle use of facial expression, whereas DV2 thought it rather coincidental that people noticed a sign they thought was funny. Other possible reasons include how the interpreters were displayed on-screen (picture-in-picture versus in full person next to the speaker), the interpreter’s gender, the country’s culture and so on. The presence of live interpreters at the press conferences put the spotlight not only on signed language in general but also on the work of deaf interpreters. All three deaf viewers were satisfied with having a deaf interpreter on-screen, but they did not always find it easy to explain the reason why; it was more like a ‘feeling’. DV1 expressed the feeling of ‘sameness’ (cf. Boudreault, 2005: 335; Kusters and Friedner, 2015: x) and the ease of understanding the message (cf. Stone, 2009). She felt she was being informed properly and equally, which led her to making informed decisions about how to deal with the pandemic, regardless of other people’s opinions. This is in line with Wood and Weisman’s (2003) arguing for access to information. DV3 also felt a personal connection (cf. McKee, 2014) with a particular deaf interpreter, stressing that it really depends on the person: ‘To see a deaf person signing, certainly now, I feel more connected.’ A younger viewer (DV2) commented on feeling empowered (cf. Stone, 2005; De Meulder and Heyerick, 2013): ‘Finally it was time to provide a deaf interpreter. I was also proud to see a deaf person is able to do that job as well. It’s important to show this.’ Of all three hearing viewers, only HV3 was aware of how the co-interpreting team collaborated (see Figure 8.1), having seen some behind-the-scenes footage. After being told the interpreter on screen is deaf, the other hearing viewers ventured several guesses as to how this would work from reading an autocue to having a written text beforehand or lip-reading. Even for the speakers, the co-interpreting practice raised some questions at first, as they did not understand the need for two interpreters: ‘I didn’t understand what you were doing, and the switching of positions, I thought “what are they doing?”’ (SP1). After an explanation, hearing viewers as well as speakers quickly recognized the added value of having a deaf interpreter. HV2 even considered the practice to be an interesting fact to share with others: ‘Because for him it’s his mother tongue, and for the other it is a learned language… And there is a difference in how they sign? It is the same, but still there’s a difference?… That’s really impressive. I can score with this [fact] today, when I tell this.’ SP1, SP2 and HV1 compared it to speaking French or English, and never being able to reach the same nuances or finesse as someone for whom it is his or her native language. HV1 underlined this statement, concluding, ‘But for national TV, it has to be correct, so they translate into “correct” signed language’, acknowledging the expectations in terms of quality (cf. de Wit, Perez and Peterson, 2020; Kurz and Mikulasek, 2004).

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FIGURE 8.1  Co-interpreter Elke Poullet providing interpretation into VGT supported by Karolien Gebruers by Hanne Reyners, Sciensano © Karolien Gebruers, Lien Vermeire & Jaron Garitte.

This new focus on signed language and the work of deaf interpreters also fuelled speculation about the future. HV2 wondered about the recruiting effect the presence of an interpreter might have on the overall knowledge of signed language. If more people are inclined to learn signed language – even only a few basic signs – this might create a larger social network for deaf communities. DV3 also hoped the increased visibility of deaf interpreters would be a catalyst for establishing a training for deaf interpreters and for motivating deaf persons to become interpreters (note that deaf interpreter training was set up in January 2022). Attending a specific training programme would facilitate recognition, as DI formulated: Through training I would feel recognised as a deaf interpreter and attributed a position. Also, I evolved through my own efforts and findings, and through feedback from others, such as trained and experienced interpreters, but I didn’t have formal training…. People keep saying I’m a good interpreter, but I would like a diploma to secure this.

The viewing experience The three deaf participants described enjoying the fluency, dexterity, signed language variants and natural facial expression of a deaf interpreter. Their interpretations were easy to watch and understand without making an effort, which is in accord with earlier studies (Kyle, 2007; Rijckaert and Dhoest, 2020; Stone, 2009). As DV3 put it: Sometimes hearing interpreters are more like a ‘square’, deaf interpreters are more ‘round’, more fluent…,they are more pleasant to watch. It takes less effort, not always,

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sometimes it’s also hard to understand deaf interpreters, but this deaf interpreter is pleasant to look at, it’s hard to explain, it has more to do with fluency, a better tempo, rhythm, more fluent,… coherence, it’s also nice to see how he uses different signed language variants, sometimes he uses three different signs for one term, … it makes it easier to follow, not harder. DI underscored the diversity within deaf communities and the ability of deaf interpreters to adapt their interpretation to meet the needs of a wider deaf audience. DV2 underlined the importance of fully understanding the message, together with the linguistic skills deaf interpreters have: Sometimes [hearing] interpreters are not that fluent in signed language, sometimes they’re a bit stuck and that’s a bit annoying. Deaf interpreters are fluent as it really is their mother tongue… Hearing interpreters sometimes don’t know and then they ask me how I would sign things, so I have to help them out. But if there were hearing interpreters at the press conferences there’s no one to help them out. This observation is in line with the experience of HI: It often happens when we are preparing and thinking about a sentence…, and thinking ‘this is a complex sentence and then I see him signing it and I think, oh yes, that’s the way’… It doesn’t mean we – as hearing interpreters – are bad interpreters or anything like that, some things are just much clearer if it is signed by a deaf interpreter. The deaf viewers were equally satisfied with how the interpreter was displayed on screen, though, DV2 and DV3 thought it would be even better if the interpreter’s picture were larger. If that were the case, DV3 wondered whether hearing viewers would complain. All hearing viewers easily accepted the presence of the interpreter on screen. According to them, the picture-in-picture placement – occupying one-sixth of the screen (see Figure 8.2) – had no impact on their viewing experience, which contradicts earlier studies (McKee, 2014; Neves, 2007). The three hearing viewers stated that seeing the interpreter at work captured their attention but did not impact their understanding of what was being said at the press conferences. As HV1 and HV3 put it: And I have to admit, I look more at the interpreter, than for instance [Belgian Prime Minister] Alexander De Croo who is saying things… No [it didn’t bother me] – because you are listening, and you’re trying to link what he says to the signs [the interpreters] use. (HV1) But, yeah, I do look at it, from a personal interest. But it does not bother me at all. I found that to be positive, okay, this is also being thought of. We find it normal that we, as a Dutch viewer, have subtitles when there is a French speaker. So you notice, okay, for deaf viewers, this is a solution. (HV3)

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FIGURE 8.2  Sign language interpreter position on screen, https://news.belgium.be/nl/corona © News.Belgium.be 2022, accessed 23 February 2022.

HV2 hypothesized that possible irritation at seeing the interpreter on screen stems from this being a novelty in Belgium. He compares it to the use of subtitles versus dubbed audio. In Flemish Belgium, subtitles are a customary practice in movies and television programmes, whereas in other countries, they might be considered distracting. DV3 agreed that hearing viewers would become accustomed to seeing interpreters over time. On the advantages of signed languages over subtitles, DV2 emphasized that information should be available in signed language as some deaf people have difficulties with reading subtitles, whereas DV3 added that subtitles should be available as well these days. At the time of writing, live subtitles are not available. Subtitles are only available whenever the television channels broadcast (clips of) the press briefings as part of their news programmes. The press briefings were always broadcast in their entirety on the internet (i.e. Facebook and YouTube), and only occasionally by television broadcasters, raising concerns that elderly deaf people or those with limited access to the internet would not have access to them. For this population, television often remains the most important source of information. DV1 often shared videos with other deaf people within her network to ensure they kept informed. The participants raised concerns that the way to find the interpreted press briefings is not straightforward, implying that people might miss out. Though clips of the interpreted press conferences are frequently shown on mainstream television news programmes, due to the time lag between the speaker and the interpreter, the latter often gets cut off early. Therefore, all deaf viewers considered summarized videos in signed language to be an essential part of access to information. The summaries about the COVID-19 measures produced by the deaf-led media company Visual Box are warmly welcomed, confirming the need for direct communication in signed language (cf. Rijckaert and Dhoest, 2020). As DV1 commented, ‘I always watch the summaries made by Visual Box, I think they are interesting. I always look at the interpreted press conferences but, when I also look at the summaries, I am sure I understood it all, that way

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I have double-checked’. DV2 underscored that the summaries include additional visual elements, enhancing comprehensibility.

The collaboration The duration of the COVID-19 health crisis implied that the relationship between speakers and interpreters evolved over time in terms of collaboration and alignment. DI experienced having a transparent, open way of communicating, and HI felt supported and respected for their work. DV3 suggested that having deaf interpreters in the room contributed to increasing speakers’ awareness: I can imagine there’s a signing space, hearing people are more exposed to signed language, there’s an extra layer of awareness, seeing interpreters, but also seeing signed language and also seeing hearing people communicating in signed language; it can be important in terms of awareness… right, if there were hearing interpreters only, it wouldn’t be the same, there would be more communication in spoken language. Speakers and interpreters both commented upon the challenges of the first days and weeks. There was little to no preparation, no formal introduction and limited knowledge of either interpreting or crisis communication. A great willingness developed to take each other’s work into account. Over the course of several weeks, this resulted in receiving full texts beforehand, including all numbers and graphics, having access to a Google Drive document with the journalists’ questions and being briefed about specific terminology. Guest speakers were given a list of attention points, to prepare themselves optimally for working with interpreters, asking them to speak slowly, leave pauses between paragraphs, wait for a signal before changing between Dutch and French, avoid difficult jargon and numbers and limit the information on slides to a minimum (Daisy Tysmans, personal communication, 9 December 2020). As SP1 explained, this eventually benefits all viewers: Being aware of speaking slowly, taking pauses, and paying extra attention to numbers and complex terminology, I think in general – also for hearing people – it’s a very good thing to deliver the message. It emphasises the importance of paying attention to it, so it benefits everyone I think. The only disadvantage SP2 could think of is that working with interpreters sometimes interrupts the flow and adds to the rather artificial and sterile format of the press conferences, as there is no audience present and press questions are formulated by a Sciensano employee. Although speakers took the interpreters’ needs into consideration to the full, HI noticed that abstract, metaphorical/figurative language, and specific terminology, which was inherent in this interpreting setting, remained challenging. McKee (2014) documented similar experiences of interpreters working at briefings related to natural hazards. One of the options the NCCN was investigating before the COVID-19 crisis was to form a permanent team of interpreters, who would receive training and could be activated in an emergency situation on a municipal, provincial or national level. If interpreters are trained in emergency management and crisis communication, it could make them more familiar with the subject matter and facilitate their work.

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Both interpreters expressed a great sense of responsibility to convey live information related to the health crisis, which is in line with interpreters working in other countries (Stine, 2021; Tregenza, 2020). Both DI and HI commented on being well aware of the impact their work could have on the lives of deaf people. In addition to the responsibility regarding the interpreting work, both interpreters experienced an impact at a personal level. Being confronted with (mainly) bad news over a long period of time took an emotional toll, as also mentioned by Tregenza (2020). Although being personally impacted, the interpreters showed resilience and strength, as both of them had a harder time during the first wave than during the second one. As HI explained, ‘The stress related to the translation has decreased but the general stress, the burden, as in it’s going on for such a long time and it keeps on going, and it doesn’t get better, remains’. This emphasizes the importance of including attention to the psychological impact of the job and possible coping strategies in training for interpreters. Regarding the co-interpreting team, both DI and HI highlighted that it is a team effort and listed essential characteristics for successful working, corroborating earlier reflections (cf. Stine, 2021). DI considered mutual respect and equality to be important, and HI stressed the importance of trust, openness and awareness of one’s own capacities and limitations. Both interpreters foregrounded the importance of ‘matching’ on a professional as well as a personal level to make it work. For DI, there has to be some sort of ‘chemistry’ and HI feels this personal connection is necessary to be able to give and receive feedback.

The future of signed language (interpreting) in crisis communication As there is great diversity within the deaf communities, the biggest challenge in the work under discussion is providing information comprehensible for all deaf viewers. All three deaf viewers who were interviewed agreed that the interpreter is an essential source of information and should be guaranteed in future crisis communication. As DV1 explained, ‘It’s important to have an interpreter to provide information, it has to be clear and equal to hearing people, deaf people have to get the same information as hearing people do’. This was agreed upon by all interviewees. HV1 stated that not providing an interpreter and denying access to information could be discriminatory. SP2 took pride in this first step towards more inclusive crisis communications, and confirmed that these efforts must be maintained: We always say we aim for reaching 100 per cent of the people in crisis communication, although we are aware it’s impossible. But we have to make efforts to reach as many people as possible, even though it might just be that one or half percentage extra, we have to make an effort… if you look at it from a commercial point of view it’s crazy. But as a service that is focused on crisis communication, you are obliged to do so. You have to do everything in your power to aim for reaching 100 per cent so providing interpreters should be standard procedure in crisis communication. HV3 agreed that seeing the interpreter at work might have made more communication departments on a local level open to including deaf people as a target group. However, both she and DV3 questioned whether it would always be feasible to provide live interpretation due to financial limitations, particularly at a local level. DV3 added that in some instances deaf people might prefer receiving information directly in signed language, rather than interpreted live content; this would depend on the context and urgency of the

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situation. Discussions with relevant stakeholders should take place to decide when this option would be a suitable alternative for interpretation. When thinking of anchoring interpreters in future crisis communication, some challenges remain. As SP2 stated, guidelines should be issued to inform spokespersons or political figures on how to brief and prepare interpreters about the purpose of the press conference, the main message and the important speaking points. The availability of both deaf and hearing interpreters also remains an issue. As a training for deaf interpreters in Flanders was established only in 2021, deaf interpreters have been hindered in their recognition and professionalization process. Hearing SLIs receive generic training but nothing for specific settings, such as in the context of crisis communication and media. Other than the co-interpreters who have been working at the press briefings, there are only a handful of colleagues who are familiar with co-interpreting practices. All of this underlines the need for establishing a pool of co-interpreters who are competent to work at crisis communication press briefings.

CONCLUSION This small-scale study set out to document the lived experiences of speakers and signed language interpreters working at COVID-19 press briefings as well as deaf and hearing viewers. The visibility of signed language and deaf interpreters on screen sparked the interest of hearing viewers and did not go unnoticed in the press and social media. Although we found there is still a lack of awareness about deaf people, signed language and interpreting, it seems that this greater visibility has acted as a catalyst to increase awareness. Having co-interpreting teams of deaf and hearing interpreters working at live press conferences was a first in Belgium, which was experienced as a successful practice by the deaf viewers. They expressed feelings such as sameness, connection and empowerment when seeing a deaf interpreter on screen, and described enjoying the fluency, dexterity, signed language variants and natural facial expression of a deaf interpreter, which all contributed to enhancing comprehensibility. Notably, all deaf viewers agreed that next to providing interpretation, videos produced in signed language are an essential part of access to information as well. Although frequently seeing an interpreter on screen was a novelty in Belgium, the hearing viewers seemed to easily accept it. It captured their attention without being distracting, and it even became a subject for discussion. The collaboration between speakers and signed language interpreters has led to mutual respect and appreciation, and greatly evolved over time in terms of preparation and insights gained into each other’s work. As for the interpreters, at a professional level they felt a great sense of responsibility to convey live information related to the COVID-19 health crisis, while they also felt impacted at a personal level. The interpreters considered elements such as mutual respect, equality, trust, openness and self-awareness to be crucial for a successful collaboration, and highlighted the importance of connecting both at a professional and personal level. In sum, we recorded positive experiences by all parties involved, both service providers and receivers, but we do acknowledge these findings cannot be generalized. A larger-scale and more in-depth study including a diverse group of participants would be valuable. Insight into the long-term effects of the described collaboration would require this study to be repeated in a year or two. However, we hope this chapter can inspire individual interpreters, deaf and interpreter organizations, governments and crisis communication services. We argue that the best practices regarding signed language (interpreting) that

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emerged as a result of the COVID-19 pandemic should become part of the ‘new normal’. However, we have documented future challenges, such as the scarcity of deaf and hearing signed language interpreters working as part of a co-interpreting team, financial constraints (e.g. at a local level), and the task of tailoring crisis information and communication to the needs of a diverse target group. Nonetheless, we hope the practice of co-interpreting at live crisis press updates will be seen as a touchstone of accessible crisis communication.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS Thanks to Dr Isabelle Heyerick for bringing the call for contributions to this edited volume to our attention. Nicolas Hanquet, Mark Schofield, Yves Stevens, Benoit Ramacker, Dr Daisy Tysmans and Jorn Rijckaert provided generous comments on earlier drafts of this chapter. We are thankful to all interviewees partaking in this study and to all interpreter colleagues and NCCN/Sciensano staff for the fruitful collaboration.

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O’Brien, S. (2019). ‘Translation, technology and disaster management’ In M. O’Hagan (ed.), Routledge Handbook of Translation and Technology, 304–18. London: Routledge. Rijckaert, J. and Dhoest, A. (2020). Het Journaal met of in VGT: Een evaluatieonderzoek naar het aanbod Vlaamse Gebarentaal op de VRT [The News with or in VGT: An Evaluative Study on the Provision of Flemish Sign Language on VRT]. Antwerp: University of Antwerp. Available online: https://www.vlaanderen.be/cjm/sites/default/files/2020-05/Journaal-met-ofin-VGT_eindrapport.pdf (accessed 7 May 2021). Scott, S. (2020). ‘“It has been interesting”: Meet the B.C. sign language interpreter attracting attention across the country’. CTV News, 24 March 2020. Available online: https:// bc.ctvnews.ca/it-has-been-interesting-meet-the-b-c-sign-language-interpreter-attractingattention-across-the-country-1.486668 (accessed 7 May 2021). Stine, A. (2021). ‘Why deaf interpreters are a crucial tool during the pandemic’. The Guardian, 7 January. Available online: https://www.theguardian.com/science/2021/jan/07/deaf-aslinterpreters-pandemic (accessed 7 May 2021). Stone, C. (2005). ‘Deaf translators on television: Reconstructing the notion of “interpreter”’. In N. Meer, S. Weaver, J. Friel and K. Lister (eds), Connections 4, 65–79. Bristol: University of Bristol. Stone, C. (2009). Toward a Deaf Translation Norm. Washington, DC: Gallaudet University Press. Tregenza, H. (2020). ‘The coronavirus pandemic and bushfire emergency have thrust Auslan interpreters into the spotlight’. ABC News, 11 April. Available online: https:// www.abc.net.au/news/2020-04-11/coronavirus-bushfires-thrust-auslan-interpreters-intospotlight/12140824 (accessed 7 May 2021). Turner, G. H. (2007). ‘Professionalisation of Interpreting with the Community: Refining the Model’. In C. Wadensjö, B. E. Dimitrova and A. L. Nilsson (eds), The Critical Link 4: Selected Papers from the 4th International Conference of Interpreting in Legal, Health and Social Service Settings, Stockholm, Sweden, 20–23 May 2004, 181–92. Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing Company. Vermeire, L. (2020). Inclusieve reflexcommunicatie: Toegankelijk communiceren tijdens een noodsituatie. [Inclusive crisis communication: Accessible communication in fast-burning crises]. Unpublished Postgraduate Thesis, Disaster Management. Available online: https:// rampenmanagement.be/nieuws/eindwerk-inclusieve-reflexcommunicatie-toegankelijkcommuniceren-tijdens-een-noodsituatie-lien-vermeire/ (accessed 7 May 2021). Wood, V. T. and Weisman, R. A. (2003). ‘A hole in the weather warning system: Improving access to hazardous weather information for deaf and hard of hearing people’. Bulletin of the American Meteorological Society 84(2): 187–94.

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Language and Literacy Brokering in the COVID-19 Emergency RACHELE ANTONINI AND CLAUDIA SUPRANI

INTRODUCTION An article published by the Italian newspaper La Repubblica on 30 May 2020 told the story of how a teacher in charge of the literacy and inclusion programme of a middle school in the town of Faenza decided to go in her camper van to the houses of the pupils that had been ‘lost’ to distance learning. This is just one of the many examples of the inventive ways in which teachers in Italy have tried to remedy the shortcomings of a distance learning system that failed its most vulnerable students. It is also an illustrative example of the fact that among the hardest hit by the school closure are children from low-income families with limited access to digital resources (i.e. electronic devices and internet connection), which generally include families with a migrant background. Following the identification of a new coronavirus in December 2019, in March 2020 the World Health Organization (WHO) declared the diffusion of COVID-19 a global pandemic warning the world about its highly contagious nature (WHO, 2020). In an attempt to contain the spread of the virus, countries all around the world decided to implement partial or complete lockdowns, along with other measures aimed at reducing the chances of humans infecting each other that included social distancing regulations and curfews. These measures also included the closure of educational institutions, resulting in the interruption of education for more than 1.5 billion enrolled students of all ages, which equals nearly 90 per cent of the global student population in almost 200 countries (UNESCO, 2020a, 2020b; UNICEF, 2020). When on 9 March 2020 the Italian government closed all schools and decreed the adoption of distance learning, thus suspending de facto in-person attendance, suddenly, schools were required to offer distance learning with limited or no experience of this form of learning and its teaching strategies (Ferraro et al., 2020; OECD, 2020). This chapter explores the teachers’ experiences and perceptions of distance learning, particularly with regard to the effects it had on how pupils with a migrant background and how communication with them and their families was (not) maintained. Moreover, it will also show how the interruption of language and literacy brokering activities in the school setting impacted on the socialization and learning progress of pupils with a migrant background.

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The closing of schools particularly affected those children already at risk of exclusion, both in terms of increased educational poverty and inequalities in the school and social domains, and who very often are children from families with a migrant background.

THE IMPACT OF THE CLOSING OF SCHOOLS ON PUPILS WITH A MIGRANT BACKGROUND In Italy, as in many other countries, the closing of schools and the switch to distance learning brought to the fore the inherent and often unperceived weaknesses of an educational system that is not equipped to ensure equal access to education for all children, particularly for those from families with an immigrant background who are exposed to a particularly high risk of poverty (European Union, 2017) and educational poverty (Crul, 2013, OECD, 2015, 2018a and 2018b; Wagner and Warren, 2021). Indeed, the COVID-19 emergency has acted has a litmus test for inequalities in access to education due to economic, educational, digital equipment inequalities as well as social, personal and family conditions (Giovannella, Passarelli and Persico, 2020). The studies and reports that have been published since March 2020 have identified a series of issues and problems related to the impact of distance learning on education (Benigno, Dagnino and Fante, 2020; Bozkurt et al., 2020; Pourdehnad et al., 2020), which seem to be contributing to the exacerbation of these inequalities. The ongoing public debate about how schools reacted to the emergency inside and outside academia (in the grey literature, the mass media and on social networks) has focused on a number of issues. What is worth noting, as Giovannella, Passarelli and Persico aptly observe, is that ‘the pressing haste with which many educational institutions moved to online education may have prevented them from harnessing its strengths and dealing with its limitations’ (2020: 265). The list of the negative effects of distance learning implemented during the COVID-19 emergency is likely to grow longer as the impact on the cognitive, educational, psychological and social development and progress of children is assessed over the next decade. Prior to the pandemic, research on children and migration had identified a series of factors in the lack of integration of children with an immigrant background and the perpetuation of inequalities among children from underprivileged families (OECD, 2015; Cederna, 2017 for Save the Children Italy; Cesareo, 2018; Tarchi et al., 2019). According to the OECD’s Programme for International Student Assessment PISA1 (OCED, 2015), the main factors that may contribute to the persistence of inequalities within the educational system and which, subsequently, lead to underachievement and unequal (future) opportunities (Crul, 2013) are the family’s socio-economic and cultural status, geographical area, access to and opportunities for recreational and cultural incentives, gender and immigrant background. Furthermore, children from underprivileged families in general are very likely to experience a limitation of the development of cognitive, social and relational skills which are fundamental for their future wellness, for working success and for permitting their active future participation in society (Cederna, 2017). Other important indicators include student well-being and sense of security (OECD, 2018a; PIRLS, 2016), the educational and cultural context offered by the territory in terms of children’s participation in recreational, sport, cultural extra-curricular activities (OECD, 2015), rates of early school leaving (which are higher for foreign-born children, Education and Training Monitor 2019: 52), as well as access to higher education

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(Crul, 2013; Education and Training Monitor, 2019: 60). Children with an immigrant background are more likely to be exposed to a particularly high risk of poverty (European Union, 2020: 88) and thus experience such inequalities to a greater extent than those who are not from such a background. The acronym DAD (or ‘Dad’ or ‘DaD’) stands for didattica a distanza, and indicates distance teaching without the physical presence of teachers, using online platforms and resources. On 11 March 2020, the DPCM (decree of the Council of Ministers) of the Conte government made it compulsory in all Italian schools. Within a week or, in some cases, a few days, all schools asked their teachers to leave their classes and recreate a virtual school environment from home. At the beginning of the school year 2020/2021, the Italian school system tried to start a transition process from DAD to DDI, ‘Didattica digitale integrata’, integrated digital learning with the aim of gradually going back to normality. The plan did not succeed as envisaged because, after the Christmas holidays, the reopening of schools was gradual, depending on the decisions of individual regions. At the end of February 2021, due to the increase in coronavirus cases, many regions reverted to full distance teaching for some or all school grades. Distance learning was particularly disruptive for the communication and literacy needs of pupils (and families) with a migrant background, who, in normal circumstances, rely on their peers’ language and literacy brokering and support teachers to communicate, learn and interact (Antonini, 2016). Moreover, for those students who also need to overcome a linguistic barrier it represented a further challenge in their socialization with their peers and with the teachers.

The impact of COVID-19 on the socialization of children with a migrant background The extent and long-term impact of the COVID-19 pandemic on the psychosocial development and well-being of children and adolescents is unknown and will be determined over the next decade. School closures have caused additional stress for children who missed the social contact and structure that school provides by suddenly interrupting peer-to-peer and teacher-student interactions, which could continue only through the digital mode. School is one of the key agencies of socialization. The role it plays in the socialization of children has been overtly emphasized in both academic and non-academic literature, and as such represents both a challenging and ideal arena for the children’s integration, as well as that of their families and communities, into mainstream society. This is particularly relevant in all those countries that are the destination of immigration fluxes and where education is, potentially, one of the key elements for integration in all spheres and dimensions of immigrants’ lives (OECD, 2015). Given the compulsory nature of formal education in most countries, and in all EU member states, from an early age children will inevitably meet other children from diverse backgrounds by attending school on a daily basis for several hours per day. Although the objectives of schooling are primarily academic in nature and ‘its mandate is more narrowly defined as providing formal education and developing children’s knowledge and skills’ (Gecas, 2001: 14525), from preschool to later school settings children become part of significant social worlds, which ‘in many respects,… provide social experiences that are highly similar to and overlap with those provided by families, the broader community, and the peer group’ (Wentzel and Looney, 2007: 382).

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In the school domain children meet and interact with a variety of stakeholders (students, parents, teachers but also other staff, principals, members of the local, regional and state school governing boards,\ etc.) who play different roles in the transmission of cultural and societal values, motivations and self-concepts with different power relations, perceptions and opinions (Gecas, 2001). In this sense, schools are less involved in primary socialization (i.e. the development of basic values, motivations and conceptions of self) and more involved in secondary socialization (i.e. the development of knowledge and skills). For children who do not speak the language of their new country of residence, the school plays a pivotal role: it is the place where (through teaching, tutoring and peer interaction) they can learn the language and culture of that country. Through schooling and socializing in the school setting, these children often learn the language of their new country of residence before their adult family members (parents and grandparents), and thus often take on the role of the language broker who helps them communicate and interact with the institutions and society of the new country (Weisskirch, 2007). This chapter explores how distance learning further disrupted the already difficult situation that children with a migrant background have to face in overcoming challenges to their inclusion in education, as well as the impact on communication between school and families and on the support to literacy and socialization provided by their peers. The following sections will provide an overview of the practice of child language brokering and of the literacy brokering facilitated by the socialization with children and adults.

THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK: CHILD LANGUAGE AND LITERACY BROKERING In the school domain, language barriers are often overcome by resorting to the services of bi- or multilingual children who facilitate communication between peers and between adults (Antonini, 2016; Cline, Crafter and Prokopiou, 2014). This practice is defined as Child Language Brokering (CLB), a widespread yet largely unacknowledged and therefore mostly invisible practice of linguistic and cultural mediation or brokering performed by ‘bilingual children who mediate linguistically and culturally in formal and informal contexts and domains for their family, friends as well as members of the linguistic community to which they belong’ (Antonini, 2015: 48). The reason why CLB is such a widespread phenomenon can be ascribed to a number of factors and dynamics that are linked to the constant fluxes of refugees, asylum seekers and economic migrants who decide to relocate to another country. One reason is represented by the incapability of national, regional and local governments to respond to the needs created by ‘new social patterns, forms and identities arising from migration-driven diversification’ (Vervotec, 2019: 125) especially in the current context of mass migration. One other important motive is the inability on the part of (im)migration and language policies to contend with the linguistic needs generated by the emergence of super diverse linguistic landscapes characterized by the presence of dozens, and often hundreds, of languages and dialects. A third important motive is related to the issue of trust. Since (im) migrant children generally learn the language of the new country of residence before their parents and/or other adult members of their family (Weisskirch, 2007 and references therein), very often they are asked to take on the role of the linguistic and cultural mediator. Hence, in all the contexts and situations in which families need to interact and communicate with the institutions and society of their new country of residence,

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they may choose not to avail themselves of the services of a professional interpreter/ translator, preferring to rely on their children to mediate linguistically and culturally for them (Antonini, 2010). The study of CLB is a relatively recent area of research. According to Harris’ (2012) annotated review of the literature on natural translation, up until the mid-1970s CLB was generally mentioned as a practice observed in studies focusing on other language-related issues typically in the field of bilingualism and linguistics. Instances of CLB had been reported as early as 1913 (2012) but had always remained unexplored since they were unexpected and not the main focus of studies. This situation changed with Harris’ (1973, 1976) and Harris and Sherwood’s (1978) seminal papers on the natural translator, which marked the inception of the study of linguistically and culturally mediated interactions by children and adolescents. Since then, the number of studies devoted to various issues and aspects of CLB has been growing steadily. Research on CLB gained momentum in the mid-1990s, when scholars from many different disciplines made CLB the object of their studies, thus contributing to addressing many aspects and issues related to this practice. Notwithstanding the many uncharted areas of the study of CLB that are yet to be the object of research (Antonini, 2015), a review of the extant literature shows how much the study of CLB has developed and evolved in just a few decades. According to extant literature, it is possible to draw quite a precise description of the who, what, where and how of CLB, of the impact it has on many different levels (emotional, cognitive, educational, psychological but also in terms of family dynamics, human and linguistic rights, etc.), as well as of the feelings and attitudes associated to it. In general, research on CLB carried out in the United States has highlighted the fact that prevalence rates of CLB range from 57 per cent to 100 per cent, with the majority of studies reporting percentages above 80 per cent (Straits, 2010). Therefore, there is agreement on the fact that children with an immigrant background, at some point in their lives, are likely to be involved in language brokering activities. Moreover, results have demonstrated that CLB is common among all the ethnic/linguistic communities taken into consideration, and that it involves children with both first- and second-generation status. Research has also shown that children usually start brokering between eight and twelve years of age (Morales and Hanson, 2005; Tse, 1995 and 1996). First-generation immigrant children usually start language brokering within one to five years of their arrival in the country. CLB is described as occurring in peer-to-peer (for friends and schoolmates) and child-to-adult (for their parents and/or family members and teachers, for instance) interactions. The contexts in which children language broker include all the formal and informal places and situations in which their families come into contact with people and institutions of their new country of residence and need to communicate with them: in homes, shops, on the streets, schools, post offices, banks, doctors’ offices, trade union offices, job centres and so on. Research on CLB is generally fragmented across many disciplines with few points of contact. This is likely to be one of the reasons why for each of the thematic areas outlined above, we can find contradictory results for the same issue. Moreover, many studies take an ethnographic and qualitative approach and tend to focus on specific ethnic and linguistic minorities. More recently, the desire and need to bring together scholars dealing with CLB from different disciplinary perspectives has prompted a series of initiatives (international conferences and research projects) that have contributed to increasing its visibility and interdisciplinarity in what has been labelled as the coming of age of CLB studies (Orellana, 2017). It is a phase in which scholars are acknowledging

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and drawing from the research that is being carried out across many disciplines. Indeed, as Orellana (2017: 75) observes: dialoguing across disciplinary and methodological boundaries allows us see aspects of the phenomenon that may be as invisible as the phenomenon itself once was. They may help us to ask questions that we might not otherwise have been [sic] addressed, and to interpret our own findings in more complex, nuanced, and robust ways. (2017: 75) One important outcome of this new shift in the study of CLB is that in quite a short time span this practice has become visible to those ‘political, educational, research, policy and, inevitably, adult perspectives’ (Hall and Guéry, 2010: 29) that until a few years ago were not aware of its existence, even though they were benefiting from it. Regardless of the disciplinary approach, one of the main areas of agreement, as Weisskirch remarks, is that ‘regardless of the label placed on this practice, these children and adolescents perform sophisticated metalinguistic and cultural transformations in conveying meaning between two or more adults and/or in translating text for others’ (2007: 546). Indeed, as Hall and Guéry (2010: 34) put it, when children interpret/translate they are not merely conveying a message from a language into another because they have to communicate the sense of what is being said, but they also have to be responding to the power relationships, the cultural backgrounds, the ages and experiences of the other speakers, as well as many wider contextual issues such as the degree of trust by the adults in the child, the short, medium and long-term consequences of what is brokered, the number of other speakers involved. Furthermore, they do not only mediate or translate for their family members but they also act as agents of socialization (Tse, 1995), they contribute to the fulfilment of their families’ social goals (Orellana et al., 2003) and they co-participate and co-construct the communicative event they broker (Valdés, Chavez and Angelelli, 2003). One of the main domains where CLB is likely to occur is the school, as children are often involved in language and literacy brokering activities in and outside the school. Language brokering typically may involve different people and can take place in different places: in the classroom, at breaktime, on the school premises (courtyard, playground, walking to and from school), but also outside the school, as, for instance, at home (helping siblings or classmates or being helped by parents with homework). More specifically, CLB is construed as literacy brokering when children are involved in language brokering activities and interactions aimed at facilitating learning and understanding. Perry (2014) identifies three main forms of literacy brokering that may occur in and outside the school with the involvement of other children (e.g. classmates) or adults (e.g. parents): lexicosyntactic and graphophonic brokering, culture brokering and genre brokering. Lexicosyntactic and graphophonic brokering occurs when children explain vocabulary, syntax and the pronunciation of words as, for instance, when they explain the meaning or how to spell a word, the pronunciation of letters or syllables. Culture brokering occurs when the specific cultural content of a text or a conversation needs to be not only translated but also explained, for instance when there is reference to practices, procedures and rules (and the relative cultural expectations attached to them), but also holidays, historical events and symbols that are common in a specific setting and country. This knowledge involves

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understanding the underlying beliefs and values system and the respective expected behaviours. For example, explaining to parents that they are expected to attend parentteacher meetings or explaining to a classmate the rule of a game played at breaktime. Genre brokering involves explaining the purpose and use of a specific text (what is a circular or why parents need to fill in a specific form). If we restrict the radius of this definition to literacy brokering occurring in the school setting, then we can describe literacy brokering as all those activities aimed at explaining and thus facilitating the understanding of information, notions and rules occurring in: ●●

Child-to-child interactions: A child is asked by a teacher or spontaneously decides to help another child (a classmate, a sibling or a student in another class) by explaining, translating or paraphrasing a lesson, assignments, rules and communications to families, but also to facilitate socializing in the classroom and outside the classroom (e.g. at breaktime, in the canteen or in the school yard). Child-to-adult interactions: When a student is asked to language broker between a teacher and one of their parents or family members, school staff or other children’s parents at, for instance, parent-teacher meetings, in an emergency, over the phone or to translate school-related documents/materials.

As the analysis of the collected data will illustrate, the COVID-19 crisis and the subsequent lockdown limited and, in some cases, put a stop to socializing opportunities and the pivotal role played by teachers and other students in conveying and supporting linguistic and cultural learning. Pupils with limited competence in the Italian language were particularly affected by the switch to distance learning.

METHOD: PARTICIPANTS AND PROCEDURES The objective of this small-scale survey was to explore the issue of the impact of the COVID-19 emergency on communication and socialization practices of pupils with a migrant background with the aim of designing a more in-depth survey to be targeted at a bigger sample of teachers. The study involved seventeen teachers working in kindergarten, primary and lower secondary schools in the Forlì-Cesena province in Emilia-Romagna, one of the hardest-hit regions in the COVID-19 crisis, as well as one of the first regions that decided to close its schools (on 23 February 2020). Participating teachers were recruited in February 2021 via personal contact and email invitation sent by a fellow teacher, one of the authors of this chapter. In order to ensure their anonymity, no personal data was collected. The participating teachers filled in a questionnaire over a four-week time span in March 2021. Before any data collection activity started, all participants gave informed consent to the processing and use of the material collected. The research team formulated the following three research questions exploring the impact of online schooling during the first lockdown: RQ1: What effect did online schooling have on teaching methods and strategies? RQ2: What effect did the school closure have on communications between the school and pupils and families with a migrant background? RQ3: What effect did online schooling have on foreign pupils’ learning progress?

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The research questions were explained in the email invitation and also summarized in the description box of the Google Form. The research questions were explored by developing nine specific questions that the authors presented to the subjects in an openended anonymous e-questionnaire. These questions were aimed at eliciting a more indepth description of the impact of the lockdown on education and of the switch to online schooling on the general pupil population and, more specifically, on the learning development of students with a migrant background from the perspective of the teachers. The following sections will provide a general overview of the responses provided by the seven teachers to the survey as well as the thematic analysis carried out using NVivo.

Analysis In order to have a view of what the teachers think about their working experience of remote teaching during the spring of 2020 and the closure of schools, seventeen teachers were invited to take part in an online survey with open-ended questions. All teachers reported working in various state schools in different parts of the province of Forlì-Cesena. Eight of them teach in primary schools, six in middle schools and three in kindergarten. The possibility of homeschooling left to parent initiatives was never considered an option and, in a period of a week or, in some cases, a few days, all schools asked their teachers to leave their classes and recreate a virtual school environment from home. All of the teachers declared that this was their first online teaching experience and provided a description of the difficulties they encountered, how they were able to reorganize their work and the strategies they implemented to teach in this new modality and engage their students. Given the explorative and descriptive nature of this study, the analysis of the responses to the survey questions was carried out by means of a thematic analysis approach with the aim of ‘identifying, analysing and reporting patterns (themes)’ (Braun and Clarke, 2006: 79) within the narratives collected with the survey. The coding of the responses was carried out using NVivo in a two-step process. First, the authors coded all the narratives in the responses individually and then they compared their code category sets in order to develop a single framework and ensure coding coherence and consistency. The coding was carried out by identifying a number of nodes (a collection of references about a specific theme) in the source material, that is, the narratives inserted by the teachers when they filled in the seventeen forms, to detect emerging themes. The nodes were then organized into hierarchies when connections become apparent; this led to the categorization of the nodes into six core themes (as illustrated in Figure 9.1). The graph shows how these themes were all interconnected and mutually influenced. The paragraphs below provide a more in-depth analysis of the responses provided by the teachers on the issues raised by the research questions.

Results This section presents a descriptive analysis of the responses collected in relation to the three main research questions aimed at exploring: 1. Teaching methods and strategies (RQ1); 2. Communications between the school, pupils and families with a migrant background (RQ2); 3. Foreign pupils’ learning progress (RQ3).

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FIGURE 9.1  Core themes.

The answers given to the specific questions asked for each RQ helped provide a detailed description of the impact of online schooling on the learning outcomes for pupils with a migrant background and their language brokering practices during DAD. RQ1: What effect did online schooling have on teaching methods and strategies?  The first research question was developed with three questions aimed at eliciting information on how the teachers organized their online teaching, what difficulties they encountered in doing so and how they tried to overcome them, and what kind of response they got from their pupils. How did you implement online schooling during the lockdown?  In response to the question of how they organized and implemented their methodologies and work during lockdown, and if it was difficult to set up and start a programme of lessons of this type, the teachers seem to have different approaches, which nevertheless are a clear example of the holistic role they play in education by making ‘important, swift and unprecedented decisions in the best interests’ of their students and their families (Baggerman and James, 2021). Some teachers, in middle schools, were tutored by a fellow teacher on how to use the G Suite platform. Others, in primary schools, followed an online course on how to use the G Suite platform paid for and organized by their schools. Teachers who taught in different classes (e.g. language teachers) had to adapt to the different choices of platforms and timetables of their colleagues who spent more hours each week with their pupils. G Suite, Skype, WhatsApp and WeSchool were among the different ways they reached out to their pupils. Teachers also sent audio and video recordings of lessons prior to or after the online lessons. Photos of the homework in books or exercise books were then received through emails or the Classroom platform and sent back with marks or notes to the pupils individually (two teachers counted around 800 emails each, sent and received). In kindergarten, teachers agreed to meet pupils once or twice a week on Skype to recreate the circletime atmosphere of telling each other about shared experiences and sometimes doing creative games or activities. Kindergarten teachers also sent homemade videos on how

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to do things: measurements with kitchen tools and containers, simple creative art projects using recycled objects, biscuits/pasta/bread-making and recorded readings of picture books. Was it difficult to set up and start a programme of lessons of this kind and what particular difficulties did you encounter?  When the teachers were asked what particular difficulties they encountered, some of them cited the sedentary posture involved in online teaching and the long hours required in planning for the lessons and marking homework. Some of them mentioned the difficulties of juggling private home life (their own children or partners studying and working from home, older parents to care for etc.) with the unprecedented novelty of working from home. The challenge to engage pupils of different ages included being surrounded and distracted by their family members in their own daily habitats and routines (some of them would connect from noisy kitchens or crowded sofas among younger brothers or sisters, pets and switched-on TVs or radios). Some teachers mentioned among the difficulties the struggle to reach out to all students. In this they were hugely helped by class parent representatives and special education teachers. For those teachers who worked with many classes, adapting to the different technical modalities of the platforms in use was one of the most time-consuming difficulties. Some of the pupils in primary schools were unable to connect due to the absence of their parents who were working, the lack of technological devices (mobile phones, tablets or laptops) or a bad connection. If there were older siblings in the house attending middle school or high school, these took precedence in the use of the technology available in the house. In some cases, individual or small groups calls were made in the afternoon to accommodate family needs; this happened also with the help of special need teachers or civil volunteers. Middle school teachers, who certainly had more hours online than others, mentioned among the particular problems they had to face the lack of concentration on the part of pupils, the difficulties in doing oral assessments (pupils would pretend to have technical problems just to avoid them) and the difficulty of following the curriculum, although school programmes were officially remodelled. The lack of empathy in the digital environment, the initial embarrassment of dealing with the pupils they were used to meeting face to face and not being able to read properly the pupils’ body language and facial expressions were among the other difficulties that the teachers faced. What kind of response did you get from your pupils?  Teachers were then asked what kind of response they got from their pupils. Their perception is that younger pupils reacted positively and were just happy and surprised to see their friends online. In some kindergarten groups, children can be as young as two years old if they are early starters at the school (‘anticipatari’). Some of them went blank and just refused to speak in front of a monitor or sometimes did not want to appear, leaving one of the parents to interact with teachers and the rest of the group. Some children worked conscientiously as in the classroom, giving excellent feedback on the proposed activities. Others were inconsistent, their homework being entirely done by adults and in some cases were totally absent and could not be reached. Language teachers reported their students reacting with enthusiasm as they focused on speaking and listening activities in their lessons.

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In middle schools some teachers said they had to continually modify and diversify their classes in order to offer challenging and effective lessons. Some non-Italian students found it easy to use the chat function on the platforms for clarifications and extra explanations. The more motivated students also asked questions of teachers through emails, leading to profitable exchanges. For many of the pupils, difficulties in distance learning exacerbated pre-existing difficulties, and, for some of these students, afternoon support in small groups was activated. In general, pupils proved to be very capable and collaborative in adapting to a completely new school environment. RQ2: What effect did the school closure have on communications between the school and pupils and families with a migrant background?  The second research question aimed at exploring how the effort made by the school and the teachers to keep in contact with pupils and families from a migrant background impacted on communication. The analysis of the teachers’ answers reveals how many of them went above and beyond their normal duties to make sure that no child was left behind because of language or economic barriers. How did you keep in contact with your pupils’ families?  How did the teachers manage to make and keep in contact with their pupils’ parents? In Italy, school communications to families are made by official circular memos (‘circolari’) written in bureaucratic Italian and published on the school website, sent via email, distributed in printed copies to pupils especially at the beginning of each year or through ‘avvisi’, notes dictated by teachers and written by pupils in their exercise books (in the form of diaries). During the lockdown, contacts happened through WhatsApp, telephone, email, Skype calls, Meet calls and through the class representatives at different times of the day, even outside school hours. In some cases, group meetings were organized on Meet or Skype and, in some rare cases, they were face-to-face in order to meet social workers, child psychiatrists or educators for pre-arranged assessments. In April the bi-annual official parents’ evening took place on Meet, where parents booked their ‘space’ in advance in order to speak with the teachers. In middle school, where parent-teacher relations tend to be more formal and structured, teachers organized their receiving hours by appointment. Although instructions on how to contact teachers were given through circulars and on the schools’ websites, in some cases families did not validate the email addresses provided by the schools, and contact was easily lost. How did you keep in contact with your migrant pupils’ families? Were you able to use a cultural/linguistic mediator to communicate with migrant families?  Teachers were then asked how they managed contacts with the families of their non-Italian pupils. Teachers reported that they found it hard to make contact with some of the non-Italian families, particularly with Chinese families who sometimes seemed to avoid contact altogether. Teachers helped the school to distribute digital supplies (computers, laptops, tablets, chargers) to families who did not have any, and made individual phone or video calls to assist in the downloading process and registration procedures of platforms and apps. Translated messages were delivered to families with the help of online translator sites, friends, other families, children, by means of video tutorials recorded by teachers, and, in some cases, through language mediators. Many families were encouraged to ask the school offices for assistance and to collect the digital appliances that were offered. Some teachers reported having personally delivered school material at the homes of their migrant pupils,

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giving assistance to these pupils’ parents in the compilation of documents of all kinds, mediating information from the immigration offices or just giving psychological support. Every year, the City Council grants schools a certain number of hours that can be spent on linguistic and cultural mediators provided by a local cooperative, which are used to provide written translations, liaison interpreting, cultural projects or individual tutoring with pupils, according to the number of non-Italian pupils present in each Istituto Comprensivo (educational centres comprising three levels of education from three to fourteen years of age: kindergarten, primary and middle school). Nonetheless, more than half of the teachers reported that they chose not to ask for the services of a mediator, either because they did not need one or because they chose to resort to the help of other people (i.e. siblings, friends and relatives). When you were unable to use a cultural-linguistic mediator to communicate with your pupils’ migrant families, how did you manage to communicate with them?  In the majority of cases, children translated for their parents or friends, and in many cases the contact was made with older siblings more fluent in Italian than their parents. In the Arabicspeaking community, mothers often sought the help of other mothers to have information translated or to communicate with teachers. Mediators were used to translate mostly from Arabic, Chinese, Romanian, Albanian, Urdu and Bangla. Sometimes during online connections and through messages, families would ask teachers for information about the lockdown rules, whether they could leave the house and what restrictions to movement applied. Some parents admitted feeling anxious about being stopped on the streets by the police and being found without documents or the wrong DPCM certificate, so they did not avail of the outings allowed by the regulations (walks within a short distance from home, outings for shopping etc.). In one middle school, special tutoring afternoon groups were activated for the final months of school on Skype/Meet with a Chinese mediator in order to help third- and final-year students to compile a thesis in Italian for their oral assessment during the state exam. Cultural and historical aspects of China were among the chosen subjects. The same tutoring, but with individual one-to-one sessions and without the presence of mediators, took place at the Centro Welcome too, a youth centre run by educators and volunteers located in the historical town centre of Forlì entirely dedicated to the integration and education of vulnerable pupils from migrant families. RQ3: What effect did online schooling have on pupils’ learning progress and, more specifically, on foreign students’ learning progress?  The third research question explored the teachers’ perceptions of the impact of distance learning on the learning progress of pupils with a migrant background. The analysis of the responses given by the teachers shows how pre-existing problems and challenges have been exacerbated by the COVID-19 crisis. Based on your experience, what were the main effects of the lockdown and online schooling on the learning process of migrant pupils?  Asked to reflect on the main effects of the lockdown and distance learning on the learning process of migrant students, all teachers seemed to share similar concerns. One of the effects of the lockdown on many pupils with a migrant background was a profound sense of linguistic isolation: not really understanding what was going on, information perhaps filtered through parents with little or no understanding of Italian. Other effects were the physical isolation of many pupils

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confined to small flats with large families, sometimes without a balcony, an entrance hall, a courtyard, play or study areas, school materials or suitable toys. Many migrant parents have precarious jobs (street vendors, small businesses, hourly workers, cleaning staff etc.), and the anxiety they may have felt during the lockdown and obviously transmitted to their children and household will have been immense. Some teachers think it is still too early to make predictions and reflect on how much the pupils have lost in terms of development during the lockdown and school closure. Others think the effects might be devastating. Many did not connect online, due to parents’ inability or their lack of attention to schooling. This has caused learning gaps which will be difficult to fill in the near future. Many pupils abused the use of the internet, staying connected for long hours on YouTube or playing with apps, as they themselves stated. In many families where the parents are not fluent enough in Italian or sometimes are not even schooled in their own mother tongue, the children could not be supported in carrying out their homework. The activities proposed during this school period were not always properly assimilated. The experience of school closure tended to increase the gap between children who had the possibility of being looked after by their families and those who could not, whether these were Italian or migrant children. With the closure of school, not only the natural flow of education but the whole process of integration, assimilation of language and culture were interrupted.

DISCUSSION This qualitative study was carried out with the aim of providing an analysis of how schools and teachers dealt with all those situations in which they needed to interact with families with an immigrant background and to provide literacy support to children with limited or no competence in the Italian language. The questionnaire explored how teachers dealt with online schooling and its impact, and also helped situate the main issue of the (lack) of inclusion of pupils with a migrant background and communications with their families within the broader framework of the impact of distance learning. As shown in Figure 9.1, a number of issues emerged from the thematic analysis of the answers to the small-scale survey with seventeen teachers, with a particular focus on the impact distance learning had on pupils with a migrant background, namely: ●●

how teachers organized their work in DAD

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their teaching strategies

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how teachers experienced DAD

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how pupils experienced DAD

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communication with families

The first core theme is related to the responses to the question on how teachers responded to and implemented their DAD teaching in line with the INDIRE report (2020) (a study with 3,700 Italian teachers who responded to an online survey on online teaching practices during the first 2020 lockdown). The results of the responses highlight two very distinct groups. One showed greater confidence with distance learning tools and a strong propensity to develop their professional skills in this direction as well. The other revealed an initial hesitation in familiarizing themselves with online platforms. This study also obtained similar results to INDIRE’s in terms of the number of hours of work teachers

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had to devote to distance learning. As INDIRE reports, teachers did an average of eight hours of online teaching per week, with primary school teachers carrying out the greatest number of hours. These eight hours should include all the daily hours spent by teachers on asynchronous activities, training in new technologies, formative evaluation of their pupils and ‘shared’ management of such a special period with families. The respondents of this study also pointed out that the school system draws strength from educational alliances with the family, but this was not always guaranteed by the families, particularly when socio-economic and language challenges were involved. The strategies that teachers described implementing in order to provide distance teaching and keep the pupils engaged revealed great inventiveness on their part, paired with a willingness to learn all the opportunities that the platforms and technological tools they employed had to offer as well as the awareness of their limitations. Teachers used YouTube, Google Drive and various platforms to share the materials they created, which included flashcards, animations, videos and songs. Moreover, they also made sure that pupils had the chance to talk and that they were listened to. They created tutorials for the families of pupils with migrant backgrounds and made sure that there was no need to print out materials or photocopy them (as people could not leave their homes to do so). The teachers described the response they got from their students. The answers were mixed and only a few teachers provided a detailed description. Foreign pupils or pupils with a migrant background have specific educational needs linked primarily to mastering the Italian language, not only as the language of instruction but also as a mere vehicle for everyday communication. The degree of social inclusion of the foreign pupil, the time spent in Italy and the proximity of the mother tongue to the language of learning are all factors that have a decisive influence on the degree of mastery of the Italian language. Every foreign pupil, in short, has specific needs that cannot be satisfactorily addressed by resorting to DAD, a form of teaching that is by definition standardized. Distance learning lessons, which can work for children without particular difficulties, cannot fully replace the work teachers do face-to-face, which aims to fill the individual gaps of each of the pupils. DAD does not allow for personalized remedial action and an individual objective response, because it does not allow for verification of real improvement in learning. It is only thanks to the goodwill of individual teachers that foreign pupils or pupils from families with a migrant background have had their specific educational needs recognized. When asked to describe the difficulties they encountered due to the implementation of online schooling, the teachers pointed out a number of issues. In the 2020 lockdown those who were more challenged by distance learning, due to the lack of a PC or connection or because they were not supervised by their parents, were pupils with a migrant background. The decisive role of socio-economic conditions for pupils with a migrant background under DAD manifested itself mainly in three areas: access to the internet and use of devices, support from families in the proper functioning of DAD and ability to interface with teachers and schools. A total of 33.8 per cent of households in Italy do not own a tablet or a PC (ISTAT, 2019). Moreover, access to the internet and the use of devices increases in proportion to the level of education of the users and the socioeconomic conditions of the household. Therefore, 57 per cent of minors have to share a computer or tablet with other family members. The COVID-19 emergency has made the effects of the digital divide more evident, especially within the context of distance learning. Many pupils with a migrant background in Italian schools are most at risk of

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suffering the negative effects of this new form of teaching, as they often come from socioeconomically disadvantaged or poorly integrated backgrounds (Santagati, 2019). The pupils’ difficulties with DAD described by the teachers included technological issues (lack of devices, poor internet connection), but also a lack of space to ensure that all children in a family could take part in live lessons and study. Teachers also observed that distance learning did not respect the children’s privacy and for some of them revealed precarious living conditions. Lack of parental support was also another issue described by the respondents. In terms of the reception of the teaching provided, they remarked that the main problems they observed were linked to language difficulties and the impossibility of supporting pupils with low or, in some cases, no competence in the Italian language. Moreover, it was not always easy to have the pupils respect the rules of DAD and to keep their attention. Communication with the family was another theme that emerged from the categorization of the nodes. Teachers were asked to describe how they managed contacts with their pupils’ family and families with a migrant background. Teachers resorted to a variety of tools and ways to maintain an open and constructive communication with families. Distance learning, especially when applied to pupils in the early years, who are weakly educated in digital culture, requires the support of parents. The aspect of the lesser or greater participation of foreign parents in their children’s school lives can also be a symptom of poor integration. In many cases, pupils come from families where both parents work or the parent or relative who stays at home with them does not speak Italian. Many of them also have difficulties with technology and lack the skills to follow their children’s education. Not surprisingly, the United Nations Human Rights Council, with the approval of resolution A/HRC/20/L.13, expressly considered the internet as a fundamental human right, included in article19 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Immigrants are among the groups most at risk of digital exclusion, the so-called ‘linguistic-cultural digital divide’ (OHCHR, 2012). The teachers’ responses to the question on whether they could rely on the services of a linguistic/cultural mediator outlined three possible scenarios: (1) they chose not to resort to their services; (2) they did not need to use a professional mediator; (3) they had to rely on child language brokers. In the latter case, teachers wrote that they generally relied on older siblings or other family members, with some or good competence in Italian. In Italy, public institutions are required by law (Filmer and Federici, 2018) to provide linguistic/ cultural mediation services to enable non-Italian speakers to access public services. Unfortunately, the demand far exceeds the offer and non-professionals, often children, are involved as language mediators to facilitate communication (Rudvin, 2006). This is particularly true in the school setting, where, in reality, the latest available guidelines for the integration of foreign students (Osservatorio nazionale per l’integrazione degli alunni stranieri e per l’intercultura, 2015) encourages schools to use students with a migrant background as language mediators to help new non-Italian-speaking students integrate in the Italian school system. The last question in the online survey asked teachers to describe, according to their experience, the main effects of distance learning on pupils with a migrant background. Their responses highlighted many problematic areas: 1. lack of socialization 2. interruption of the inclusion process 3. impact on learning progress

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4. emotional impact of DAD and the lockdown 5. loss of motivation 6. increased educational divide These issues are placed in this order because they are the result of a cascading effect starting from the lack of socializing opportunities. The lack of socialization offered by the school setting has had a negative impact on pupils with a migrant background in terms of their inclusion process, learning progress and the widening of the educational divide. As already discussed above, socialization in school is a pivotal factor in not only the inclusion process but also, more importantly, in the literacy development conveyed by both language and literacy brokering. By not having school mates helping to translate lessons and assignments for them, or helping them out with homework, these children are experiencing a disruption in their learning process and, as a consequence, may experience loss of motivation and a more negative emotional impact. According to the ISMU Report on Migration (Fondazione ISMU, 2021), distance learning has penalized pupils with a migrant background the most. Although only preliminary data on the effects of distance learning are available, because they are just beginning to emerge, the economic and social costs of the COVID-19 crisis on the learning development of pupils (both Italian and foreign) have impacted those who are already most at risk of educational poverty, who, almost by default, are students from families of a migrant background. Some of the challenges that were not acknowledged before the COVID-19 crisis, which include how schools, pupils and families cope with language barriers, have remained uncharted in all studies that have been carried out to date.

CONCLUSION This study contextualized language and literacy brokering within the wider framework of the impact of distance learning during the COVID-19 crisis. The pre-existing issue was that, in the school setting, bi- or multilingual children often take on the role of language and literacy brokers, thus helping other children to become included in the class and to learn the language of their new country of residence. The small-scale survey that was carried out with seventeen teachers working in kindergarten, primary and middle school in the Forlì-Cesena province in Italy highlighted many interrelated themes and issues, which, together with the language challenge, contribute to making distance learning particularly challenging and impactful for children with a migrant background. Distance learning highlighted both the educational and the digital divide. Many parents, particularly those with no or little competence in the language used at school, struggled to support their children’s learning. This became especially difficult for those parents with a low level of education at a time when most education was delivered online and primaryand middle-school pupils needed additional support from their parents. Moreover, many low-income families were not equipped with computers, and often parents did not have the technical skills necessary to help their children access the digital platforms and applications used by their schools to deliver distance learning. In some cases, families struggled to balance live instruction timetables for their children and finding a quiet space for them to study, with access to a limited number of devices and the lack of an adequate internet connection. Teachers also had to adapt to delivering lessons online and improve their own technical skills, and the support they received varied greatly. Unfortunately,

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little attention both at institutional and research level has been paid to the fundamental role played by language and literacy brokering in the inclusion and socialization of nonItalian-speaking pupils. There are several limitations to our analysis. First, this was an exploratory study that will need to be replicated with a much wider sample, with the inclusion of questions asking respondents to detail initiatives and good practices enacted to support the inclusion of pupils with a migrant background in DAD, as well as the inclusion of independent variables to allow for an in-depth analysis of the data. Second, a study including the perspectives of pupils and families with a migrant background would provide a more comprehensive analysis of the impact of distance learning on school-family communications and the learning and socializing needs of these children. This is particularly urgent; from the impact and consequences of the COVID-19 pandemic to our lives, we could learn significant lessons to implement in the intercultural and multilingual classrooms to improve ordinary as well as extraordinary contexts of teaching. The alternation of lockdowns with less restrictive limitations with the subsequent closure and reopening of schools require qualitative and quantitative data to support effective measures aimed at ensuring that no child is left behind or goes missing from education.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS This contribution is the result of collaborative authorship; however, Antonini is responsible for the Introduction, Theoretical Framework, Analysis, Discussion and Conclusion, and Suprani is responsible for the sections Results and the first five paragraphs of the Discussion session.

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CHAPTER TEN

Digital Multilingual Practices in Third-sector Organizations MARÍA JIMÉNEZ-ANDRÉS AND PILAR ORERO

INTRODUCTION Daily and bidirectional interaction with beneficiaries is essential for workers in the third sector and COVID-19 has added unprecedented communication barriers. Face-to-face interactions have been replaced by online platforms. New layers were added to the existing issues of communication determined by language and culture barriers: state-ofthe-art hardware, an internet connection and IT skills. In this chapter the term ‘third sector organizations’ (TSOs) refers to non-profit organizations that carry out work with displaced people, defined by Tesseur (2018) as associations, hybrid organizations or other. More specifically, the research in this chapter has been carried out with small and medium-size organizations who work locally supporting displaced populations. The non-profit nature of TSOs means that a delicate balancing act between financial and human resources is required. The current situation in Europe regarding the growing numbers of displaced people has a direct impact on the demand for their services. In this context, TSOs are encouraged to find technological solutions to complement and help to enhance their lean resources (Federici and O’Brien, 2020). Information communication technology (ICT) has many benefits such as the increased speed of information dissemination, allowing for user customization towards tailored interactions with different networks (Souza Sales and Rosa da Silva, 2015), and the enablement of equitable, accessible communications (International Telecommunication Union, 2020; Orero, forthcoming), which foster the provision of information for people in rural communities, and for speakers of other languages, through translation technologies (AbuJarour et al., 2019). This chapter looks at the multilingual practices of public-sector organizations (PSOs), which also provide services to displaced communities, and small and medium-sized TSOs, and their digitalization, as well as the affordances of accessibility to ensure effective communication for all citizens – prior to and during the COVID-19 pandemic. The choice of focusing on small-sized TSOs is justified by their more limited access to technological solutions and resources (Caceres et al., 2019), which adds further complexity to their communication strategies. After a short introduction focused on the multilingual practices of the sector, the chapter discusses and analyses the findings emerging from two actions surveying PSOs and TSOs in European countries. The first project collected data on providing services to displaced communities regarding their uses of technology and

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translation practices in Italy, Greece and Spain. The answers from fifty-three responses to a questionnaire will be analysed. Then, the chapter will focus on the data collected from six in-depth interviews with staff at a TSO assisting refugees and asylum seekers to further explore multilingual, multimodal and digital communicative practices and their challenges in the implementation of digital technologies. These research actions are framed within the REBUILD project. The project aims at developing ICT tools to facilitate access to services to refugees in Greece, Italy and Spain. This tool also supports the management procedures of organizations working with displaced people in European countries. This study, as part of the REBUILD project, served as a needs analysis of small and medium organizations regarding their digital and multilingual provision.

MULTILINGUAL PRACTICES IN THIRD-SECTOR ORGANIZATIONS According to a UN report (Narasimhan and Balasubramanian, 2020), communication has been pushed to its limit during the COVID-19 pandemic, in all daily contexts. This is a step beyond the general ‘underestimation’ of the multicultural and multilingual nature of emergencies and crisis (Federici, 2016: 2). Existing and new communication platforms have been used to resume activity under a new lockdown condition: everything from visiting the doctor, to attending school, to interacting with public administrations. However, online communication poses new challenges due to the inaccessibility of digital content and interfaces (UN, 2020), especially – but not exclusively – for people with disabilities. Establishing barrier-free communication with culturally and linguistically diverse communities is critical during a crisis (Federici, 2016). ICT has the potential to facilitate communication due to its instantaneity, affordability and its widespread use, including within displaced communities (AbuJanour et al., 2019; Frouws et al., 2016). Furthermore, the UN Agenda 2030 has recognized that ICT can ‘accelerate human progress, bridge the digital divide and develop knowledge societies’ (UN, 2015). Communication barriers have been identified as a primary concern for NGOs, international organizations and other actors in the field of humanitarian aid work with heterogeneous groups (Federici, 2016; Moreno-Rivero, 2018). The issue of language barriers and the role played by translation and multilingualism in the humanitarian sector are some of the recent issues to receive attention among translation scholars (Federici, 2016; Federici and O’Brien, 2020; Rico Pérez, 2020; Tesseur, 2018). Indeed, a growing number of studies have materialized in the emerging research area coined as ‘crisis translation’ (Cadwell and O’Brien, 2016; Delgado Luchner, 2018; O’Brien et al., 2017; O’Brien, 2019). O’Brien and Federici (2019: 130) define crisis translation as ‘linguistic and cultural transfer from one language into another, be it through oral, signing, written and multimodal channels… that takes place before, during and after any emergency or disaster’. TSOs working with displaced communities operate in a crisis setting, which COVID-19 has aggravated. Multilingualism practices are complex and managed differently in each public- and third-sector organization and each organization’s contact zone (O’Brien, 2016; Delgado Luchner, 2018). When it comes to multilingual communication practices between a local TSO and its culturally and linguistically diverse beneficiaries, the majority of the exchanges are oral. Some studies have viewed these oral communication practices as interpreting (O’Brien, 2016; Delgado Luchner and Kherbiche, 2018; Moser-Mercer,

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Kherbiche and Class, 2014), cultural mediation (Miklavcic and LeBlanc, 2014; MorenoRivero, 2018; Rudvin and Tomassini, 2008) and volunteer interpreting (Aguilar-Solano, 2015; Al-Shehari, 2020; Cadwell, Bollig and Ried, 2020; Hassemer, 2020). These studies have revealed the multiplicity of practices, profiles and backgrounds of those facilitating communication, including professional, semi-professional and non-professional language mediators and translation practitioners (Delgado Luchner, 2018; Wadensjö, 2009). Studies have also identified a lack of funding and planning for linguistic services as common denominators among such organizations, leading to informal and ad-hoc interpretation and translation practices, which has a direct impact on the quality of the service (Federici, 2016; O’Brien, 2016; Pym, 2008; Rico Pérez, 2020; Tesseur, 2018). In practice, translations and interpretations are carried out by both professional and non-professional translators and interpreters, but also by expatriate staff interpreters or members of the beneficiary community who may or may not receive an incentive for their services (Delgado Luchner and Kherbiche, 2018). In some cases, family members take part in the process of interpreting, a practice that is strongly discouraged, especially when involving minors (Antonini, 2015; Strang and Ager, 2010). Written translations tend to be produced for the most widely spoken languages, and for topics dealing with administration or health. The result is a gap in understanding among the majority who speak minority languages, have learning difficulties and those with literacy issues (O’Brien, 2016; Rico Pérez, 2020; Translators Without Borders, 2019). Some people may fall into all three categories, making them particularly vulnerable. Studies in crisis translation have brought to the fore the key role that languages and effective communication play before, during and after a crisis, and how a lack of robust and accessible communication systems can worsen its effects. In most European countries, information is nowadays freely available thanks to the vast array of technologies. Still, linguistic, digital and literacy barriers remain in place for certain communities, especially newly arrived migrants and refugees (Federici and O’Brien, 2020). Both oral and written communication need to arrive at the intended recipient to avoid exclusion. In the case of migrants or displaced populations, profiling their needs goes beyond language proficiency. Therefore, producing information in many formats and channels is the way to reach the diverse target population. Indeed, the UNHCR (2018) recommends the use of languages, formats and media that are contextually appropriate and accessible for all groups in a community to ensure secure, effective communication with all, including children and persons with disabilities.

DIGITALIZATION OF THE THIRD AND PUBLIC SECTOR AND ACCESSIBILITY ICT can achieve results at a scale, speed, quality, accuracy and cost that were unimaginable just a decade ago, with add-ons such as the new real-time automatic subtitling on communication platforms. For organizations in the third sector, ICT can make the dissemination of information easier and faster, granting more autonomy to individuals and facilitating tailored interaction with their networks, that is, beneficiaries, donors, other divisions or organizations (Souza Sales and Rosa da Silva, 2015). Furthermore, ICTs can reach wider populations as they do not impose geographical restrictions. Indeed, their potential to achieve equitable, accessible communications for everyone is widely recognized (AbuJarour et al., 2019; National Disability Authority, 2020; Orero, forthcoming; International Telecommunication Union, 2020).

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The adoption of digital technologies is not even across industries. The move from face-to-face, oral and written communications to digital has not been uniform among sectors and members of society. For the third and public sectors, digitalization has only recently started to occur. In the UK, 44 per cent of charities (a total of 87,000) lack basic digital skills, and 13 per cent have shown no digital activity in 2019 (Caceres et al., 2019). In Spain, 50 per cent of TSOs report using technology in their programmes and services. When it comes to communication processes, this percentage goes up to 83 per cent (Caralt, Carreras and Sureda, 2017). In Italy, 39 per cent of organizations argue that the nature of their activities is incompatible with the use of digital tools, against 61 per cent which state that their organizations carry out part of their activities using technology (Italia non profit, 2020). No data was found on the use of digital tools by TSOs in the Greek context. However, a recent report indicates that Greece’s performance in terms of digitalization throughout the economy is below the EU average (VVA and WIK-Consult, July 2019). In the public sector, while the provision of digital public services is improving, the use of ICT falls short, and it is far from being accessible to all citizens. In the context of this study, this relates to the linguistic, functional, cultural, literacy and digital needs of migrants and refugees, who are often dependent on the organizations that support them. These organizations may become ‘gatekeepers’, regulating their access to information (Translators Without Borders, 2017: 15), or excluding them from it (Anssari-Naim, 2020). Thus, accessibility can be of benefit to people with disabilities but also to displaced communities – who may also be disabled, the elderly and learners of other languages, among other target groups. In all cases, accessibility can aid breaking the linguistic, digital and literacy barriers for communities who risk social exclusion due to their current vulnerabilities (Alonso, 2007). Given the extended use of ICT among refugees and migrant communities, TSOs and PSOs can take advantage of the multiple capacities of ICT to foster effective communication (O’Brien, 2016; Gillespie, Osseiran and Cheesman, 2018; Marić, 2017; WPP, 2017). Despite their potential, the use of ICT is not widespread (AbuJarour et al., 2019; Caceres et al., 2019). Equally, translation technologies have only tentatively reached the multilingual environments of NGOs along the humanitarian aid chain (RicoPérez, 2020). Some examples of existing ICT tools in these contexts are RefAid in the UK, Belgium, Greece, Slovenia, Italy and Bulgaria (RefAid, 2019) and Ankommen in Germany (Federal Office for Migration and Refugees, 2016), both developed and used by public institutions supporting refugee communities. Some other initiatives have been developed by refugees themselves, such as the BureauCrazy app to assist with German bureaucracy (Oltermann, 2016) and the use of Facebook and online groups to coordinate activities and initiatives (AbuJanour et al., 2019). The use of downloadable glossaries and language apps has also proven effective in Greece, Bangladesh, Nigeria and Mozambique (Tesseur, 2019), where NGO staff rely on these technologies to communicate with refugees. Regarding translation technologies, the use of machine translation (MT) in TSOs is relatively new and its use is often limited to translations produced for donors and official publications (O’Brien, 2016; Hunt et al., 2019; Rico Pérez, 2020). Unsurprisingly, Google Translate is a tool often employed in certain contexts (Cadwell and O’Brien, 2016; Footitt, Crack and Tesseur, 2018; Moreno-Rivero, 2018), as it is free and readily available. A more customized example worth mentioning is the platform Kató, an initiative developed by Translators without Borders. In this platform, 26,000 professional translators offer language services using translation technologies such as machine translation, translation

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memory and quality assurance tools. Although MT poses challenges and has shortcomings, that is, insufficient quality, required revision by a professional and potential bias (Hunt et al., 2019), these tools have the advantage of being prompt, accessible and readily available in times of crises. In this context, this chapter aims to define the role that technology plays in PSOs and TSOs and the digital, multilingual solutions offered by these organizations to bridge the communication gap. The study combines quantitative data of fifty-three organizations working with displaced communities in Greece, Italy and Spain; with qualitative data of six organizations in Greece, Italy, Spain and the UK. The following section details how the study was carried out.

THE STUDY The objective of this study was to gather information prior to the development of the ICT-based solution for the project REBUILD. For the development of the tool, it was important to understand the existing communication practices in these organizations and the potential barriers faced in the access of the services by their beneficiaries, in this case migrants and refugees. To collect data the team used questionnaires and interviews. The questionnaires were administered to understand the organizations’ technological and multilingual practices. Then, in-depth interviews were conducted with the TSO staff to better grasp these practices and the communicative needs of migrants and refugees.

Questionnaires with third- and public-sector organizations Within the framework of the REBUILD project, a structured questionnaire was designed to map the service provision for migrants and refugees by public and third-sector institutions in Greece, Italy, Spain and the UK, and to understand the technological and multilingual practices. The questionnaire combined open and closed questions and was administered to a total of fifty-three organizations between June and July 2019. The organizations ranged from public and governmental organizations to NGOs, associations, cooperatives and unions working with displaced communities. These organizations work with displaced communities in various stages of the integration process. Table 10.1 presents the number and type of organizations that filled the questionnaire by country. For this study, the analysis focused on the questions related to the use of ICT, and online and offline multilingual and multimodal practices in their daily interactions with beneficiaries. Their close-ended responses were analysed using descriptive statistics; the short open-ended responses were analysed qualitatively.

TABLE 10.1  Number of LSPs by Type Per Country (Arias-Badia and Jiménez-Andrés, 2021: 341 Creative Commons) Greece

Italy

Spain

Total

Non-profit organizations

7

7

5

18

Private

1

15

2

19

Public body

8

3

5

16

Total

16

25

12

53

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IN-DEPTH INTERVIEWS WITH THIRD-SECTOR ORGANIZATIONS The purpose of the interviews was to gain a better understanding of the ICT and multilingual practices of these types of organizations in order to expand further on the findings of the questionnaires (Creswell and Creswell, 2017; Mears, 2012). The interviews provided a space where opinions were (re)constituted rather than reported and were taken as indicative of this particular social phenomenon (Edley and Litoseelity, 2010). Six in-depth interviews were conducted with TSO staff between May and September 2020. In the selection of the organizations and participants for the interviews, the aim was to choose ‘information-rich cases… those from which one can learn a great deal about the issues of central importance to the purpose of the research’ (Patton, 2002: 230). For this study, that meant organizations which have implemented ICT-tools in their interactions with beneficiaries, and organizations which have not yet done so. The aim was to investigate the reason for the lack of use of ICT in their current practices in order to tackle any communication issues with beneficiaries. The interviewees held various positions at the TSOs in which they worked: social workers, nurses, psychologists and managers. Table 10.2 provides further details about the interviews, the participants and the organizations in which they worked.

TABLE 10.2  Details of the Organizations Interviewed (Translated from Jiménez-Andrés, 2021 Creative Commons) Organization code

Role of the Participant Target Area of intervention participant(s) code Location beneficiaries of the NGO

Organization A Founder

MANAG1 Spain

Organization B Social worker SW1 Organization C Centre Coordinator Nurse Organization D Operations Manager

Italy

MANAG2 Greece

Asylum seekers

First reception

Asylum seekers

Second reception

NUR1 MANAG3 UK

Social worker SW2

Organization E Psychologist

Employment and Migrants, entrepreneurship asylum seekers and support refugees

PSY1

Spain

Asylum Advice and seekers and information, training refugees and workshops, emergency food support, women’s and men’s group, homework club, ESOL classes, legal advice, counselling and emotional support Asylum seekers

First reception and mentorship programme

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The interviews contained questions regarding the type of work they carry out, their use of technology and ICT, the linguistic needs of their beneficiaries and their strategies to ensure effective communication with beneficiaries. The interviews lasted between twenty-five and fifty-five minutes and were conducted virtually using a video call platform. Face-to-face interviews were not possible due to the restrictions imposed by the COVID-19 outbreak. Interviews were transcribed by the principal researcher. Following the transcription, the interview data was coded and manually analysed using thematic analysis (Braun and Clarke, 2006). The approach to coding was inductive, as were the codes derived from the data (Saldanha and O’Brien, 2014). The codes were checked against each other and the original data set until they were coherent, consistent and distinctive.

RESULTS This section presents the results of the two research actions presented above in relation to the identified codes and topics of concern, that is, multilingual practices and use of technology for communication.

Questionnaire results There are three types of organizations that support displaced populations in Europe: TSOs, private organizations and public bodies. Regardless of their organizational nature, the majority of organizations admitted lacking the resources to meet the demand for their services by displaced communities. Unsurprisingly, the linguistic practices and services were scarce overall, as can be observed in Table 10.3. A total of twenty-two organizations in Italy (88 per cent of Italian organizations studied) reported offering cultural mediation, versus 5 per cent of Greek and 4 per cent of Spanish organizations. Only 7 per cent of organizations in the three countries reported carrying out interpreting. While this could be an indication that cultural mediation is more extensive in Italy than in the other two countries, it could also denote a use of different terminology for this type of language transfer. Indeed, a lack of awareness of the differences between the two roles by those outside of the academic and professional domain of translation has been raised by O’Brien and Federici (2019).

TABLE 10.3  Linguistic Services Offered by Organizations Per Country (Adapted from Arias-Badia and Jiménez Andrés, 2021: 343, Creative Commons) Greece n. (%)

Italy n. (%)

Spain n. (%)

Total n. (%)

Cultural mediation

5 (31%)

22 (88%)

4 (33%)

31 (58%)

Interpreting

2 (12%)

1 (4%)

1 (8%)

4 (7%)

Language courses

10 (62%)

13 (52%)

7 (58%)

30 (56%)

Translation

0

2(8%)

0

2 (16%)

Materials in different languages

1 (6%)

13 (52%)

2 (16%)

16 (30%)

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The most prevalent linguistic service was language courses, with more than half of the organizations offering Italian, Greek, English and Spanish classes. Translation services were less widespread, with only 3 per cent of the organizations offering such a service. As for the availability of documentation and any other content in other languages, only 30 per cent of organizations had their documents translated. The open-ended questions allowed organizations to share other relevant information regarding their multilingual and digital practices. A significant number of organizations raised the issue that linguistic barriers were an obstacle for beneficiaries when accessing their services and that this often resulted in them dropping out of their programmes or services. Furthermore, a large number of organizations recognized the need to improve their multilingual practices to be able to support their beneficiaries effectively. For example, many organizations shared their aspiration to have their materials, brochures and documentation translated into different languages. In terms of their use of technology, most organizations acknowledged the inadequacy of their current digital practices, both internally and externally. In this sense, only 41 per cent of organizations started using ICT externally, which was generally limited to a website that was not always updated, or the use of WhatsApp or email with beneficiaries. However, the majority favoured an increase in their adoption of digital tools. The tools that the organizations called for included a centralized system of support services (to know if beneficiaries have previously received support and what kind, and to have direct channels of communication with other organizations), a tool for efficient archiving of documentation, multilingual interactive kiosks for providing information to beneficiaries, a tool to give appointments and updates to beneficiaries and a platform for delivering online sessions and training.

Interview results The results of the interview data are presented below. They are separated into two sections. The first section focuses on the participants’ replies concerning the written translations and the use of translation technologies. The second section analyses the replies that discuss the changes brought about by COVID-19.

Written translations and the use of translation technologies The interview data shows that some of the organizations’ documentation is available in other languages, especially the documents that need the signature of beneficiaries. The exception is Organization A, which had a budget of 2,000 euros for translation that they did not plan to spend on translation and interpreting. MANAG1 claimed that translating their information would not add value to the work they did with their beneficiaries. The profile of the translator is different in each of the other organizations. In Organization D, volunteers are in charge of the translation and interpretation. Organization E works with certified translators for the translation of official documentation and for interpreting in exceptional circumstances. Organization B works regularly with trained cultural mediators, but every day translations are performed by the TSO staff. Certified translators are contracted for official documents. Organization C employs nine trained interpreters, the majority of which were former beneficiaries who had received interpreting training from another TSO. The interpreters are also in charge of producing all written translations. In certain instances, the interpreters are asked to

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produce two translations: one in the beneficiaries’ languages and another in English, as MANAG2 explained: In sensitive situations, such as medical or legal cases, the interpreters also sign all of the written translations that they provide so as not to have any issues. For example, if an oral or written translation of a prescription from a Greek doctor that is written in Greek is required, they translate it into their native language and into a language that we understand (usually English), to ensure that a proper interpretation has been given. A more detailed account of the profile of the linguists and the oral communication practices at these organizations is discussed in Jiménez-Andrés (2021). In the participants’ replies, the mention of translation technologies was almost nonexistent. Only two organizations resorted to Google Translate when necessary: for one it was the standard practice with beneficiaries who did not speak the local languages (Organization E), and for the other, it was the last resort when they could not find a volunteer interpreter (Organization D). The other organizations did not use any translation technologies, nor did they plan to use any in the near future. In fact, using translation technologies was seen negatively by most organizations. As MANAG2 explained, ‘No, we avoid these apps and these machines because, as you know better, they don’t provide the correct translation’. In general, organizations did not use any glossaries or other multilingual resources, with the exception of some published materials in the beneficiaries’ languages. As SW2 explained, ‘Sometimes we use content that is already written, for example the COVID-19 [information] that is translated or stuff that is in different languages, so we do trust them, and people seem to use them’.

Changes during COVID-19 COVID-19 brought sudden and drastic changes to the way TSOs worked. The most obvious was the shift from face-to-face interaction to online communication. None of the organizations had an emergency or risk reduction plan for a crisis. They were not equipped and ready to work remotely, and all organizations underwent a similar process in the face of COVID-19 restrictions. This process started with a period of around two weeks when they stopped their service provision to develop a new strategy and carry out a needs assessment. The second stage was to secure the provision of a digital infrastructure, followed by training for beneficiaries. In the final stage – after two to three weeks –organizations had moved the majority of their services online. Their translation and interpreting practices did not change during COVID-19. There were no efforts dedicated to producing written translations, nor did the organizations engage with more interpreters to ensure effective online communication with their beneficiaries. The beneficiaries’ lack of digital infrastructure, in terms of electronic devices, internet access and low digital skills, were the main challenges that organizations faced in their move to online service provision. Some organizations applied for funding to acquire electronic devices to distribute among their beneficiaries (Organization B). Others asked for donations of tablets, smart phones and old computers (Organization D). As for the digital training, it had to be done in most cases over the phone, which was ‘time-consuming’ (MANAG3) and not always fruitful. This prevented the beneficiaries

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from accessing the services. Often, staff at the organizations also required an adaptation period and training for the new systems. As MANAG3 explained: The other thing is that some of our, let’s say, clients, women, they live alone, they are alone, they don’t have anyone at home. And what we do, I mean, either on the phone, or sometimes we go to their houses, to teach them how to use Zoom, we practise with them, everything works well, but the next day, when they click, somehow it does not work. Participants acknowledged the benefits of digitalization and their late adoption of basic technological tools. While they recognized that for the nature of their work, face-to-face interaction is ‘very important’ (SW1), participants admitted that the current system was more efficient. For example, some procedures or queries could be solved over the phone and did not require a visit to the organization’s premises. Paper forms were replaced by electronic forms, which saved space, paper and could be easily stored and accessed. Going forward, all organizations planned to implement a blended system. In addition to the increased efficiency, participants found other benefits of offering digital services, as SW2 outlined: There are two aspects: physical and also personal. So in physical level, the distance, all of that, all the stress, they cannot come, they cannot pay the money, they don’t know the place, they can’t find it, they live far away… so this we covered. And the personal, it looks like some people couldn’t cope with the big groups or being in presence, but now, behind the screen they feel comfortable. Offering online sessions allowed the beneficiaries who had difficulties travelling to the premises to attend. Besides, the digital spaces were seen by some beneficiaries as a safe space, in which they could exert a sense of control that they lacked in other areas of their lives. Here’s SW2 again: We can see that some people that never came anymore, like they used to come, and now they did a comeback in the live session, maybe because of the flexibility that they have control and we know emotionally, when we experience trauma, or when life is tough to you, you cannot control your life, life is controlling you, so I think there is something with having back the control… While organizations were wary of the success of moving their services to digital spaces, it soon transpired that the new system had multiple benefits, both for the organization and their beneficiaries. As MANAG3 put it: This is very important because at the beginning of lockdown we didn’t know how things will work but it is really, really good. Some… I always say that this COVID-19 although it is very, very negative, but it brought very positive aspects as well, kind of more opportunities, how to work specially to use the social media and for our client-group to learn more and also the opportunity that we taught them how to use [technology]… it is amazing, yeah. I think we got used to this now and we don’t want to go back to the office. In the selection of the platforms for the delivery of their online services, organizations opted for platforms known to their beneficiaries (i.e. WhatsApp and Instagram Live),

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user-friendly and accessible to their beneficiaries. Those which did not require a download (such as Linkello, which works with a link on a browser) were also favoured. In some cases, organizations initially adopted the use of a platform which then had to be abandoned due to technical issues on the part of beneficiaries. In terms of ethical considerations prior to the adoption of online platforms, organizations were concerned about the sharing of personal data or documentation via instant messaging, a practice that was generally avoided, though sometimes inevitable: ‘Sometimes it is the only way’ (NUR1). Furthermore, some organizations decided not to use WhatsApp for group calls as the numbers of all participants are made visible; nor did they use Skype, as the minimum age required to use it is eighteen and, according to one participant, ‘it can be breached, it is not very safe’ (SW2). Only one organization had developed a safeguarding policy since their move to online platforms (Organization D).

DISCUSSION Data from the fifty-three surveys helped to map PSOs and TSOs’ multilingual and digital practices. The six interviews with TSO staff illustrated the multiplicity of communication practices and approaches adopted by these organizations. Translation and interpreting are managed almost casually, rarely foreseen and never considered as a fundamental aspect of communication. Although translation and interpreting take various forms, they are an essential part of the effective functioning of these organizations. It is striking that none of the organizations worked with professionally trained translators. Only two of the organizations worked with trained linguists: cultural mediators, whose training and status in Italy are ‘far from being fully recognized in professional terms’ (Taviano, 2020: 23; also Taviano, 2021) and whose role continues to create debate among academics in translation studies (Amato and Garwood, 2011). Some trained interpreters in Organization D were former beneficiaries who had received brief training in interpreting through another TSO. These results are in line with the existing literature in the field of community interpreting and crisis translation (O’Brien, 2016; Delgado Luchner, 2018; Foulquié-Rubio and Sanchez-Pedreño Sanchez, 2019; Rico Pérez, 2020; Tesseur, 2019; Wadensjö, 2009). In general, organizations did not resort to existing linguistic resources, either on paper or in digital formats, such as glossaries, dictionaries or translation technologies, with the exception of Google Translate. Despite their multilingual needs, organizations showed reluctance to accept the need for translation technologies. This caution, or hesitation, is not due to a lack of financial resources, as some tools are open source, but to insufficient knowledge of the use and benefits of IT in general. Similarly, it was evident from the interview data there were no quality control mechanisms in place for the translations and interpretations that were being carried out. However, two participants shared how interpreters’ work was, at times, inadequate due to lack of training. Two organizations had a person in charge of the linguistic mediators – either volunteers or trained cultural mediators – but neither had a linguistic background. A lack of awareness of accessibility was also apparent, as interviewed participants did not make any reference to it when asked about their communication practices, or how they met the diverse communication needs of their beneficiaries. Another salient point was the funding allocated to translation and interpreting. While research and practice show that translation and interpreting are often not taken into account when planning projects (Tesseur, 2018: 13), three of the organizations in the

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study had included them in their funding applications. Despite this, one of the three organizations had decided not to use the allocated translation budget, based on the assumption that it would not improve their service provision. The drastic changes to their digital practices demonstrate these organizations have the capacity to adapt to new realities and meet pressing needs. As the questionnaire results show, organizations admitted that their digital adoption prior to COVID-19 was insufficient. Earlier technological modernization could have prevented the discontinuation of their services for the initial weeks of lockdown and the consequences that this discontinuation may have caused for beneficiaries. Further to the exploration of what these consequences were, it would be worth investigating how the beneficiaries experienced the move to online platforms, and how accessible the information was that was provided to them regarding new regulations, prohibitions and COVID-19-related health information. Finally, ICT-tools specially designed for displaced communities, such as Refugeye and Open Spain, were not used by these organizations. As the interview data demonstrates, the majority of these organizations had only adopted technological solutions due to the mobility restrictions of COVID-19.

CONCLUSION The body of research exploring the uses of ICT in the third and public sectors is limited, and studies with a focus on these technologies to facilitate communication with migrant communities are much needed. COVID-19 has widened the population profile labelled as vulnerable with a direct impact on human and financial resources. As O’Brien and Federici (2019: 138) contend, crisis translation aims at ‘reducing vulnerabilities and providing efficient communication that would reduce costs if/ when a crisis erupts’. In the case of COVID-19, this study has demonstrated that the organizations’ efforts have focused on establishing remote communication, while T&I needs have remained once more in the background. In this regard, and in line with Drugan (2020: 62), there is an opportunity for T&I specialists to raise awareness among these organizations on the importance of language, T&I services and accessibility. Some actions that organizations could take to work towards capacity-building in accessible communication are: (1) producing their content in a variety of formats and languages; (2) establishing short-term or long-term collaborations between translation specialists and TSOs and PSOs these could include staff training on communication needs in multilingual crisis situations; (3) ad-hoc consultancy provision by translation specialists; (4) conducting communication needs analysis for organizations. In view of organizations’ communication needs, it may be of interest to engage with media accessibility specialists towards concrete solutions. This study contributes to the emerging work on the role that translation and multilingual practices play in the humanitarian sector (Cadwell and O’Brien, 2016; Delgado Luchner, 2018; Federici and O’Brien, 2020; Tesseur, 2018). Further, it reports on the impact of ICT on the provision of accessible information, considering that most communication today has a digital element to it. Once more, the importance of T&I professionals to engage and raise awareness of language rights and the benefits of T&I for these organizations and their beneficiaries is crucial. These times of change can be an opportunity for these organizations to embrace technological solutions which facilitate communication with their beneficiaries and make their work more effective. The results from this study will be used for the development

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of the REBUILD ICT-tool to facilitate the access of migrants and refugees to services available to them in TSOs and PSOs. As for ICT developers, it has become apparent that working alongside these organizations is fundamental in order to create tools that meet the technical, linguistic and ethical needs of their beneficiaries.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS This research is part of the article-based PhD thesis of the first author conducted in the Department of Translation and Interpretation in the Autonomous University of Barcelona (UAB) within the PhD programme in Translation and Intercultural Studies. This research has been partially funded by the H2020 projects REBUILD (GA 82215) and SO-CLOSE (GA 870939). The authors are members of the TransMedia Catalonia Research Group (2017SGR113). Special thanks are extended to the participants of the interviews for their time.

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Orero, P., Doherty, S., Kruger, J. L., Matamala, A., Pedersen, J., Perego, E., Romero-Fresco, P., Rovira-Esteva, S., Soler-Vilageliu, O. and Szarkowska, A. (2018). ‘Conducting experimental research in audiovisual translation (AVT): A position Paper’. JoSTrans (30): 105–26. Patton, M. Q. (2002). Qualitative Research and Evaluation Methods. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Pym, A. (2008). ‘Translation vs. language learning in international institutions: Explaining the diversity paradox’. Cultus: The Journal of Intercultural Mediation and Communication 1(1): 70–83. RefAid. (2019). Local Services for Migrants from Trusted Organizations. Available online: https://refaid.com/ (accessed 31 May 2021). Rico Pérez, C. (2020). ‘Mapping translation technology and the multilingual needs of NGOs along the aid chain’. In F. M. Federici and S. O’Brien (eds), Translation in Cascading Crises, 112–31. New York: Routledge. Rudvin, M. and Tomassini, E. (2008). ‘Migration, ideology and the interpreter-mediator: The role of the language mediator in educational and medical settings in Italy’. In C. ValeroGarcés and A. Martin (eds), Crossing Borders in Community Interpreting: Definitions and Dilemmas, 245–66. Amsterdam and Philadelphia, PA: John Benjamins Publishing Company. Saldanha, G. and O’Brien, S. (2014). Research Methodologies in Translation Studies. Abingdon: Routledge. Souza Sales, J. A. and Rosa da Silva, G. (2015). The Importance of ICTs for the Third Sector. Available online: https://www.techsoupbrasil.org.br/the-importance-of-icts-for-the-thirdsector#_ftnref2 (accessed 31 May 2021). Strang, A. and Ager, A. (2010). ‘Refugee integration: Emerging trends and remaining agendas’. Journal of Refugee Studies 23(4): 589–607. https://doi.org/10.1093/jrs/feq046. Taviano, S. (2021). ‘ELF communication and intercultural mediation an interdisciplinary approach’. inTRAlinea 23. Available online: https://www.intralinea.org/index.php/archive/ article/2536 (accessed 17 September 2021). Taviano, S. (2020). ‘The counternarratives of migrants and cultural mediators’. In F. M. Federici and C. Declercq (eds), Intercultural Crisis Communication: Translation, Interpreting and Languages in Local Crises, 21–37. London and New York: Bloomsbury Academic. Tesseur, W. (2018). ‘Researching translation and interpreting in non-governmental organisations’. Translation Spaces 7(1): 1–19. Tesseur, W. (2019). ‘Communication is aid – but only if delivered in the right language: An interview with translators without borders on its work in danger zones’. Journal of War & Culture Studies 12(3): 285–94. Translators without Borders. (2017). Putting Language on the Map in the European Refugee Response. Available online: https://translatorswithoutborders.org/wp-content/ uploads/2017/04/Putting-language-on-the-map.pdf (accessed 17 September 2021). Translators without Borders. (2019). ‘Are They Listening’? The Challenges and Opportunities of Multilingual Audio Communication in Borno State. Available online: https:// translatorswithoutborders.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/TWB_Nigeria_Audio_ Assessment.pdf (accessed 17 September 2021). UN. (2015). The 17 Goals. Available online: https://sdgs.un.org/goals (accessed 31 May 2021). UN. (2020). Global Forum on the COVID-19 Crisis and Persons with Disabilities. Available online: https://www.un.org/development/desa/disabilities/news/news/global-forum-covid-19. html (accessed 31 May 2021). UNHCR. (2018). UNHCR Policy on Age, Gender and Diversity. Available online: https://www. unhcr.org/5aa13c0c7.pdf (accessed 31 May 2021).

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Becoming a Translator amidst Crises NÉSTOR SINGER

INTRODUCTION Chile has been the setting for a series of crises since late 2019. Social unrest, which started in October 2019, has brought into question the political and economic policies that have dominated the country for the last thirty years (Ansaldi and Pardo-Vergara, 2020). In the months that followed the initial outbursts, the crisis scaled into episodes of intense turmoil and violence between demonstrators and police forces throughout the country. The confrontations decreased due to the quarantine restrictions imposed in response to the COVID-19 pandemic, which has caused further division and conflict between citizens and the establishment. In this unstable context, translator education became seriously disrupted. After the social crisis, academic activities were suspended for approximately six weeks before online teaching was adopted to conclude the academic semester in January 2020. In March 2020, it became the critical means of teaching as the COVID-19 lockdowns were announced and all face-to-face teaching and learning was suspended indefinitely. As the translation trainees experienced these situations, they struggled to navigate in a setting in which the socio-political fabric of the country had been severely torn. This chapter aims to examine how these episodes of crisis have impacted the students’ desire to become professional translators. Concretely, it aims to (1) identify the factors that seem to impact the students’ commitment to their translator identity, and (2) examine the changes in their translator identity status. To address these issues, twelve translator trainees participated in three individual rounds of semi-structured interviews during a year of their programmes. The narratives that emerged from these interviews were examined using the Interpretative Phenomenological Analysis (IPA) method (Smith, Flowers and Larkin, 2009) in order to understand how the crises were experienced, particularly regarding the participants’ commitment to their translator identity.

TRANSLATOR IDENTITY AND STATUS Occupational identity refers to individuals’ ‘conscious awareness of [themselves] as workers’ (Skorikov and Vondracek, 2011: 693). This identity results from a lifelong developmental process in which individuals generate, adjust and commit to specific constructs related to the procedural knowledge and conventions of a given occupation

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(Day et al., 2005). When individuals pursue undergraduate studies, their occupational identity is contextualized. In translator education, trainees aim to develop their translator identity during their training programmes. Tan, Van der Molen and Schmidt (2017) suggest five factors that play a critical role in the development of occupational identity – or translation identity in this case: (1) knowledge of the occupation, (2) having the professional as a model, (3) experience with the occupation, (4) preference for the occupation and (5) professional self-efficacy beliefs. In the Chilean context, the first three factors are generally provided by translation training programmes in which trainees develop their translator competence, that is, the declarative and procedural knowledge needed in order to translate (Hurtado Albir, 2011). However, the fourth and fifth factors are individual-specific beliefs. The former refers to how students conceive the translation profession and the extent to which they identify themselves with it, that is, how much they want to become translators. Selfefficacy beliefs relate to ‘the confidence that [they have] in their abilities to translate’ (Haro-Soler, 2017: 199). The stronger these beliefs are, the more confident they feel as translators. Based on these five factors, Singer (2021a) suggests that translator identity is constituted by two dimensions. The first involves a core of translator-related beliefs – including their understanding of translator competence, expectations, motivations and long-term goals – that would allow students to perform their social role as translators. The second dimension involves the students’ self-perceptions as translators, which result from a comparison between their actual translator performance and their translator-related beliefs. The outcome of this self-perceptual comparison results in their commitment to their translation identity, that is, the extent to which they identify themselves with the occupation. The students’ degree of commitment to their translator identity can be explained by means of Marcia’s (1966) identity status. These result from the combination of two critical concepts: commitment and exploration. For Kroger and Marcia (2011: 33–4), commitment refers to ‘the degree of personal investment the individual has expressed in a course of action or belief’, while exploration refers to the moments in which individuals reflect and re-evaluate those potential courses of action. According to Erikson (1968), exploration involves episodes of crisis, that is, instances that challenge individuals’ identity-related beliefs and, critically, their level of commitment. For the purposes of this chapter, ‘crisis’ refers to the contextual issues that cause disruption in people’s identity beliefs, values or goals. In the context of translation education, crises could either foster or undermine the trainees’ commitment to their translator identity depending on two factors: (1) their current translator identity status, and (2) their capability to reconnect with their translator-related goals and motivations. The combination of commitment and exploration generates four possible statuses: identity achievements, foreclosures, moratoriums and identity diffusions. Singer (2021a, 2021b) takes the theoretical definitions provided by Marcia and redefines them in the context of translator education based on his longitudinal research on translator identity development. To do this, he uses Helson and Srivastava’s (2001) terminology to facilitate the use of these concepts as nouns. Thus, achievements become achievers, foreclosures are conservers, moratoriums become seekers and identity diffusions are the depleted. Table 11.1 shows the translator identity statuses as proposed in Singer (2021a). Thus, achievers display a high degree of commitment to their translator identity, which makes them less likely to change their professional goals. They are able to cope with

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TABLE 11.1  The Translator Identity Statuses in Singer (2021) EXPLORATION

COMMITMENT

High

Low

High

Achievement

Foreclosure

Low

Moratorium

Identity diffusions

difficult situations inside their programme, such as obtaining a low grade, issues working in teams or their programmes going on strike. They also manage to deal with complex macro-contextual challenges, such as the social unrest or the COVID-19 pandemic. In crisis, they tend to take quick action to recommit themselves to their studies. In their view, completing their translator training programmes is not a goal in itself but the means by which they can achieve their ultimate goal: becoming a translator. They feel empowered to enter the market with the training they have received. Conservers also seem to be very committed to their translator identity, but their commitment falters when external factors, such as their grades or comments from their peers, undermine their self-efficacy beliefs. They make these external elements responsible for their translator-related behaviour and academic results in the programme. The high value they assign to grades stems from the fact that completing their programme is their primary goal. They delay taking action after a crisis and feel unprepared to enter the professional market. Seekers are partially committed to their translator identity. They find it difficult to visualize themselves working as translators and re-evaluate occupational options during or shortly after completing their programme. They conceive their translation programme as the means whereby they can achieve another professional purpose in their lives, but not translation. They usually take responsibility for their grades and academic behaviour, although considerable loss of commitment may lead them to make external factors primarily responsible for their circumstances. The depleted status applies to students who have succumbed to external issues or personal conflicts and cannot reconnect with their translator identity. They intend to withdraw or have withdrawn permanently from their programmes, as they have little, if any, interest in completing them and becoming translators. The impact of crises on the students’ translation identity statuses can be outlined by exploring their narratives, that is, first-person significant experiential life fragments (Ewick and Silbey, 2003). This study turns to phenomenology to examine the students’ embodied experiences of the crises and, thus, understand the challenges that these posed to the commitment to their translator identity.

METHODOLOGY This qualitative phenomenological study examines how translator trainees have experienced a series of crises in their training and the potential impact these have had in their translator identity commitment. This section presents the setting and participants of this study. It then describes the research method used, namely Interpretative Phenomenological Analysis (IPA) (Smith, Flowers and Larkin, 2009), and concludes by acknowledging the ethical considerations that underlie this research.

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Setting and participants This study was carried out with students from two Chilean translation undergraduate programmes offered at two universities: Universidad de Santiago de Chile (USACH) and Pontificia Universidad Católica de Valparaíso (PUCV). The programme offered at USACH is Licenciatura en Lingüística Aplicada a la Traducción, or LLAT (BA in Linguistics Applied to Translation), a ten-semester undergraduate programme that offers EnglishSpanish language combinations, plus Japanese or Portuguese as additional languages. PUCV offers Traducción Inglés-Español, or TIE (English-Spanish Translation), which lasts nine semesters and trains students in exclusively English-Spanish combinations. Due to the common features found in the fourth year of both programmes, such as the writing of theses and specialized translation course units, students from those cohorts were invited to participate in this study. Twelve trainees voluntarily enrolled in this research: six from LLAT (four female, two male) and six from TIE (all female). Pseudonyms are used throughout this chapter to ensure confidentiality: Aurora, Daniela, Fran, José, Ignacio and Luna are the LLAT participants, while Ana, Cora, Lorena, Matilda, Nicole and Vai are the TIE participants. These participants experienced a series of disruptions during their fourth and fifth years, triggered by conflict, unrest and the pandemic. The first semester of 2019 was academically normal: classes started in March and concluded in early July. The second semester was abruptly interrupted by the social unrest in October, which led to its online completion. Violent episodes decreased during January and February 2020, but several demonstrations were scheduled to happen from March onwards. However, these plans changed when the first COVID-19 cases were reported in the country early in that month. The pandemic-related lockdowns postponed the start of the 2020 academic year until mid-April, when all universities were forced to improvise and began to deliver all teaching via online platforms. The significant difference in students’ learning conditions and the intensity of online teaching triggered their first ‘online’ strike action. Classes later resumed online and the first semester concluded in mid-September 2020.

Interpretative Phenomenological Analysis This research uses the Interpretative Phenomenological Analysis to examine the participants’ narratives regarding their perceived experiences during their semesters. The  IPA methodology involves three philosophical principles: phenomenology, hermeneutics and idiography (Smith, Flowers and Larkin, 2009). Phenomenology emphasizes individuals’ situated experiences with objects in the world, while hermeneutics is the process whereby these experiences are assigned meaning based on their own life stories. Idiography highlights the particular as the means by which a collective phenomenon can be explained. Thus, IPA aims to compare individuals’ experiences in order to determine the essential components that constitute an experience to make generalizations about how phenomena – or crises in this case – are experienced by a group. Participants were individually and systematically interviewed over two academic years. The first interview (INT1) was carried out in July 2019, which revealed the participants’ initial translator identity status during a semester without external crises. The second interview (INT2) was in January 2020 and the last one (INT3) took place in August and September 2020 with TIE and LLAT participants, respectively. The semi-structured interviews, carried out in Spanish, were audio-recorded, transcribed and then analysed using NVivo 12 software. Each transcript was examined

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and annotated following the six-stage process for IPA analysis (Smith, Flowers and Larkin, 2009). This process involved establishing its emerging themes, which were then further examined to determine the relationships between them and in order to establish the superordinate themes of the participant’s narrative. After all transcripts of an interview round were analysed, the participants’ superordinate themes were cross-referenced to identify the essential constructs, that is, the unchanging, constant features that underlie the participants’ experiences during their education. The excerpts presented in this chapter were translated into English by the author. They each conclude with the participant’s pseudonym, course and the interview round in which the narrative emerged.

BECOMING A TRANSLATOR DURING CRISES This section examines the experiential episodes generated by the crises that fostered or undermined the participants’ commitment to their translator identity during their studies. First, it analyses the critical aspects of their experiences during the episodes of social unrest. Second, it explores trainees’ narratives concerning the coronavirus pandemic in 2020. It then identifies the factors that seem to have fostered participants’ commitment to their translator identity during the crises. Lastly, it analyses the fluctuation of the participants’ commitment to their translator identity.

Social unrest On 18 October 2019, demonstrations and episodes of extreme violence erupted in Santiago de Chile (Ansaldi and Pardo-Vergara, 2020). The aftermath of the events caused severe damage and disruptions to the public transportation systems within the capital city. As outbursts and rioting continued, most universities decided to postpone face-toface teaching to safeguard both students and staff. The participants’ narratives suggest they experienced fear and an inability to connect with their studies: I was very anxious. I was down [and] I didn’t know what to do. There were days when I wanted to disconnect from everything, I didn’t want to talk to anybody. And it was, like, I don’t want anything. I don’t want to know anything… The situation was very complex outside. I couldn’t think about university, only about whether my friends got home safe from demonstrating. I have a cousin who got shot, so these things were too much… All of that was too complex and my only priorities were that the people I love were fine and that I could move in a safe environment, because there was also a time when I didn’t want to get out of the house because I was scared… (Aurora, INT2, LLAT) From mid-November onwards, rioting diminished and universities resumed their activities later that month. However, it was decided to finish the semester using online platforms to provide final materials and submit assignments. This decision caused trouble for participants, as they struggled to reconnect with their studies: In October, you know what happened [the social unrest], and [during] those weeks, we weren’t doing anything and the uncertainty as to whether we were going back to

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class or not made everything even more complicated, because there was a time when no one – I speak obviously from my experience – could focus on university stuff. So, going back after that rather long pause was very difficult for me, to start reconnecting [with] the discipline [having to deal with] eight course units, and one of those being my thesis… (Lorena, INT2, TIE) Lorena’s narrative shows that the participants’ commitment to their translator identity had been challenged by their perceptions of the crises. The initial inability to focus on their translation identity generated fluctuations in commitment which led some participants to develop seeker features. For instance, Matilda considered other professional alternatives because of the crisis: [As a translator], even though when things are OK, it’s hard to get a job, now it’s gonna be a thousand times harder… I’ve been thinking, ‘what if translation is not my thing?’ Maybe I could also focus on other areas and, maybe, if I don’t find a job in anything I like and I’m forced to work in these institutions I don’t like… I thought of doing an MA in education and also teach. So, that’d be my plan B… (Matilda, INT2, TIE) Conversely, other participants managed to refocus and recommit to their translator identity after some time. According to Daniela, it was her desire to become a translator and her personality that allowed her to overcome the challenges posed by the crisis: What I think makes the difference in several aspects of your life in general is how much you want something. In my case, I quite like linguistics and I love translation, so I think that makes a difference. I don’t like to, well, it has to do with my personality anyway, because I don’t like to be just there and settle with the results or what I’m doing in my life in general. I like to move forward and learn something new… (Daniela, INT2, LLAT) Daniela positions the effects of the crisis at a mental level. This is echoed by other participants with high levels of commitment who modified their translator identityrelated beliefs to minimize the impact of the crisis: I feel it was a battle more at a mental level, so the best way to fight it was also at a mental level [by] trying to remove some of those pressures that are self-imposed sometimes or imposed by the university and, not necessarily intentionally, but the fact that there are deadlines, because there has to be deadlines, puts pressure on you. So you end up in self-generated pressure and it’s in my hands more than anyone else’s to try to calm down myself… (Lorena, INT2, TIE) This narrative highlights the participants’ agency in the regulation of the mental impact the crisis had on them. This seems to allow them to become less self-demanding, which increases the consolidation of their translator identity. In some cases, participants are not able to carry this process on their own and so they turn to professionals or to their peers for support:

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I went to see my psychologist and I had to talk about the things that were affecting me… [It] was a complex moment due to external things more than anything else. These things affected me a lot emotionally and it was like ‘I don’t want anything to do with anything, absolutely nothing’, but then obviously after treating it, everything that’s important comes back: I do like [my studies] and it’s something I want to continue doing. (Aurora, INT2, LLAT) Similarly, Vai added that ‘[In my group], I’ve felt like more understood, because when we talked, we were all equally stressed, so we shared the same experiences. With those closer to me, we helped and talked to each other, so it was like emotional support’ (Vai, INT2, TIE). The emotional support that Vai received from the group proved to be crucial during the online completion of the semester. The participants’ perceptions of the online delivery method are mostly negative due to the quality of feedback and fewer opportunities to practise, as pointed out by Luna and Matilda: I wasn’t exposed to tests as I should’ve been, to the pressure of the semester… I think I passed everything, but I still feel the semester was a little bit weird, with little substance, so I cannot say, ‘oh, I’ve been an excellent translator academically’, because I’d be lying since we didn’t do much [on-site]… (Luna, INT2, LLAT)

I didn’t like the system of doing everything online at all… The first part [of the semester] was very good, the lectures, the modality, everything good. I felt that I was making progress as I was supposed to, but… [the social crisis] happened and [then] making up the classes in December [with] lecturers uploading the materials to the virtual classroom and us studying alone. Then lecturers gave tests and didn’t check them as they should have, or when practising before tests, lecturers’ feedback was very poor, very little, it wasn’t like the one in class… so I feel that in the end I didn’t learn anything after we went back to class… (Matilda, INT2, TIE) In summary, the social unrest generated a series of external challenges that disrupted the participants’ enactment and development of their translator identities. Some participants showed features of seekers as they started to look for other professional prospects due to the situation, while others recommitted to their identity by focusing on their translator identity-related goals. In addition, participants have negative perceptions of the online completion of their semester, which were mostly due to lack of proper feedback and fewer translation opportunities.

The COVID-19 crisis Participants anticipated that social demonstrations would resume in March 2020 after the summer recess in January and February. However, the first cases of COVID-19 were registered in the country in March (BBC News Mundo, 2020). The Ministry of Education subsequently postponed the start of the first semester (Said, 2020). Universities shifted to online teaching in early April and classes were delivered fully online for the rest of the period.

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LLAT participants had to complete eight concurrent course units on this new online platform. Although trainees had had some experience during their previous semester in 2019, this was their first complete semester to be fully delivered online. Similar to their initial perceptions of online teaching during the social crisis, participants hold a negative valuation of their learning experiences in this format: I feel that you don’t learn at all. It can’t be compared to onsite learning. It’s clear that it also depends on you, I don’t know, giving [yourself] more time to understand something or making something more dynamic and trying to motivate yourself. But even in spite of all those efforts and attempts, it doesn’t compare to face-to-face teaching: talking, the environment, your friends, the relationship with your lecturer, that trust that exists in class. Those things aren’t there [online]. They can’t be generated through a screen, so I feel you just don’t learn… (Daniela, INT3, LLAT) Daniela suggests that the absence of the social face-to-face dimension of the classroom affected her learning. This perception is echoed by the other LLAT participants, who identified three more critical challenges associated with online learning: software and hardware problems, academic overload and, critically, the cognitive and logistical difficulties of reconceptualizing their homes as work environments: It was very complicated… because we quickly had to change to a system of online classes, which at first was disorganised precisely because of the [level of] improvisation… It was also complicated to get used to distributing times and organising times at home… I had to adapt and understand home was a workplace where I had to focus… The challenge [was] mainly time-management: having to juggle family time, like having lunch, cleaning the house and all those kinds of common activities, and attending [online] classes… At this moment, my brother and my parents are here and each one needs to do their activities… so we need to make family life and work compatible somehow. (Ignacio, INT3, LLAT) These critical issues made students demand better learning conditions by taking ‘online’ strike action: for instance, they refused to attend or join lectures. Once an agreement was reached, the end date of the semester was postponed to mid-September. However, despite the extension, there were two weeks that could not be rescheduled, which forced lecturers to reduce the amount of content to discuss in their lectures: After the strike, it was like, ‘we’ve got to finish the semester very quickly’. We had had online classes before, but at least we had time allocated to discuss certain contents in the course units, [but after the strike] there were some in which [lecturers said], ‘OK, we’re not going to discuss this’, ‘we’re going to do this quickly’, ‘we’re going to prioritise this’, or ‘this is what is actually being demanded by the market’, so it’s obviously not the same course unit my classmates had last year… (Aurora, INT3, LLAT) This reduction of content was perceived to have had a detrimental effect on the participants’ learning. Moreover, most trainees affirm that the pandemic constituted a crisis that posed

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a challenge to their mental health and that it undermined their commitment to their translator identity, as one explained: ‘In my case, I don’t think [the pandemic] affected me academically, but it was something more related to mental [health]… I mean, my main challenge was demotivation… at some point, I thought of temporarily withdrawing from the programme, like in April, because that was the moment I felt most overwhelmed…’ (Daniela, INT3, LLAT). However, after episodes of exploration, trainees are able to reconnect with their translator identity mainly by adjusting their attitude towards themselves. During the social unrest, narratives suggest that participants became academically less self-demanding in the light of what was happening in the country. This is further expanded during the COVID-19 crisis as participants become more ‘self-forgiving’, as Daniela further explains: I learned not to be so hard on myself. I’m very perfectionist and try to see, like, ‘in this course unit, I’ve got these weaknesses. I’ve got to improve them…’ Now I’ve told myself, ‘Daniela, you’re in the middle of a global pandemic. It’s a completely unexpected situation, so if you don’t do well, don’t worry, you’ll do better next time’. I tried to be more self-forgiving, so to speak… (Daniela, INT3, LLAT) This attitude reflects a high level of exploration and commitment after an episode of crisis, which suggests the development of an achiever identity status. Participants who hold this status in crisis develop experiential knowledge that could allow them to perform well in their professional future: Now I have no excuse if a challenge of similar characteristics happens again, because if now I thought that I couldn’t do it and then I did it, in the future, that means that if I think I can’t, that doesn’t necessarily mean I can’t do it, because it had already happened to me and, without a doubt, these trying times tested that. (Lorena, INT3, TIE)

TRANSFORMING CRISIS INTO COMMITMENT OPPORTUNITIES The social unrest and the COVID-19 pandemic involved a series of challenges that participants had to deal with during their studies. This section identifies the critical factors that seem to have increased the participants’ commitment to their translator identities and allowed them to face fluctuations in their identity status. It finishes by exploring how the participants’ commitment fluctuated during the crises. The first factor is translation practice, which participants highlight as the main means by which they can develop their translator skills. TIE participants did their professional internship during the pandemic. Their narratives suggest an increase in their commitment upon its completion: [The internship] impacted me positively. Obviously, it was a bit hard to deal with [this] challenge, but, at the same time, as you manage to deliver what was requested, you end up with a feeling of satisfaction and confidence that you made it. In that sense, the internship made me feel that constantly, ‘oh, this is huge, it looks pretty hard’, and

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then after I did it, I thought, ‘OK, it was hard, it was long and I managed to do it, so I should be able to do the next text as well’… (Lorena, INT3, TIE) The confidence Lorena mentions refers to her translator self-efficacy beliefs, which means that the internship provided a first-hand experience that has verified her translator identity and increased her commitment to it. In addition, participants also seem to benefit from ‘real’ practical experiences beyond the classroom. Participants emphasize that these experiences differ from classroom practice in their detachment from the real professional market. Successful experiences like these have fostered the trainees’ self-efficacy beliefs and they have increased their commitment to their translator identities. One participant explained: ‘I’m translating about these parkas that they produce there in the factory and I think at times when I’m translating, “this will be used by someone, this is real, I mean, this will later be in a catalogue”… so I’ve got to deliver what is being asked’ (Fran, INT2, LLAT). Another participant added: ‘I feel that I’m much more confident than before, especially now after doing my first officially paid translation on my own, I feel much more confident… It makes me feel that I’ve got a solid tool or a developed skill to fulfil my job and contribute to society’ (Ana, INT2, TIE). The second factor is connected to the results of their academic performance, that is, their grades. Participants’ narratives suggest that grades have been a factor in the fluctuation of commitment, especially if they were lower than expected. High grades obtained in major academic milestones, such as their undergraduate thesis or their internship, seem to have had a significant impact in their translator self-efficacy beliefs: If I put [passing the thesis and internship] in perspective, they were like, I don’t know if the most complicated part, but they were something huge that I accomplished. I mean, I used to believe that it was impossible to finish the thesis, that the internship was incredibly difficult. I think that obtaining such good results has an impact [because] I must be good. I mean, they wouldn’t have given me a high mark just because, so I say [to myself], ‘no, I’m good [at translating]’. (Vai, INT3, TIE) These factors, along with participants’ self-forgiving attitude, appear to have increased the participants’ commitment and shielded them from the negative contextual situations they experienced during the crises, especially during the COVID-19 pandemic.

Fluctuations of commitment The analysis of participants’ narratives suggests that some experienced significant fluctuations of commitment in INT2 (social unrest) and INT3 (COVID-19), as illustrated in Table 11.2. Social unrest seems to have had a negative impact on three participants: Fran, Matilda and José. In the light of the socio-political problems generated by this crisis, Fran and Matilda considered language teaching as an alternative to translation. José’s circumstances prevented him from visualizing himself as a translator and he wanted to pursue other professional goals as a Japanese or Spanish language teacher. Other participants seem to have maintained their identity status, with the exception of Vai, whose commitment to

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TABLE 11.2  Participants’ Fluctuation of Commitment to Their Translator Identity

LLAT

TIE

Participants

INT1 (July 2019)

INT2 (January 2020)

INT3 (August–September 2020)

Aurora

Achievement

Achievement

Foreclosure

Daniela

Achievement

Achievement

Achievement

Fran

Foreclosure

Moratorium

Achievement

José

Moratorium

Identity diffusion

Foreclosure

Ignacio

Moratorium

Moratorium

Achievement

Luna

Foreclosure

Foreclosure

Foreclosure

Ana

Achievement

Achievement

Achievement

Cora

Foreclosure

Foreclosure

Achievement

Lorena

Achievement

Achievement

Achievement

Matilda

Achievement

Moratorium

Achievement

Nicole

Achievement

Achievement

Achievement

Vai

Moratorium

Foreclosure

Achievement

her translator identity has allowed her to overcome her personal insecurities triggered by external factors. During the pandemic, most participants maintained or increased their level of commitment to their translator identities. Those who had already developed an achiever identity status continued to maintain it during the COVID-19 crisis, while most conservers and seekers managed to recommit to their translator identity despite the challenges they experienced. However, Luna and Aurora seem to have experienced the crisis differently. Their narratives describe issues stemming from their insecurities or personal circumstances that prevented them from verifying their translator identity. In Luna’s case, her inferiority complex did not allow her to develop high self-efficacy beliefs from her successful experiences translating, while Aurora suffered considerably from anxiety and distress: I was and still am in a depressive episode, [so] I started missing lectures and there were assignments I didn’t submit, so [my] results are not the reflection of what I did, but that of my missing classes and assignment [deadlines] … I made a decision a couple of weeks ago and I’ll temporarily withdraw from the programme. My therapist thinks I can continue and try anyway, but I don’t think it’s the best option, like suffering the very last semester instead of being all right and doing well … I will do my best to become a translator … I think I just need to rest a bit and fix some things in my life and then complete everything and graduate … (Aurora, INT3, LLAT) Aurora’s narrative shows that, despite her low academic results and desire to withdraw, she is still committed to graduating and becoming a translator once her mental health

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allows her to do so. Thus, the commitment she displays corresponds to that of a conserver rather than that of a seeker or a depleted identity status. In summary, participants have experienced a series of situations in these crises that have allowed them to develop and accommodate their beliefs concerning the occupation. Four participants experienced a negative impact from the social unrest on their translator identity status, whereas only one participant seems to have suffered this effect in the COVID-19 crisis. This suggests that previous experiences in the first crisis allow participants to develop a more flexible attitude to cope with contextual challenges that they later continue to enact during the pandemic. This self-forgiving attitude, along with the successful practical experiences and grades, enabled participants to handle the COVID-19 crisis with higher commitment resilience, which allowed them to remain committed to their professional goal: becoming a translator.

CONCLUSIONS This chapter has examined how a group of twelve translation trainees experienced two continuous episodes of macro-contextual crises: the social unrest in Chile and the COVID-19 pandemic. Narratives suggest that in both cases, participants entered a moment of exploration as their beliefs were challenged by the situations that stem from these episodes. In addition to these contextual difficulties, participants hold negative perceptions of the online teaching carried out for the last two semesters in their programmes. Concretely, they suggest challenges associated with classroom dynamics, software and hardware issues and family-work compatibility. These aspects generated anxiety and distress, which affected the participants’ mental health. However, most were able to reconnect with their translator identities by adopting a more flexible, self-forgiving attitude towards themselves and their academic performance. Their narratives also suggest that translation practice is a critical factor in the development of high self-efficacy beliefs and in the commitment to their translator identity. This practice is understood as instances outside the classroom where they can try out the skills they have learnt in their training. In this sense, their professional internship and paid translation commissions have impacted positively on their commitment despite the episodes of crises. Similarly, high grades in significant academic milestones, particularly the internship, are a second factor that has also allowed participants to increase their selfefficacy beliefs. This renewed professional confidence fosters their commitment to their translator identity and provides reassurance as some participants graduate and enter the market. The analysis of the participants’ translator identity status suggests that the situations that they experienced during the social crises prepared them for the challenges posed by the pandemic. This is evidenced in the improvement in commitment to their translator identity during the COVID-19 pandemic. In addition, they seem to have developed an attitude that allowed them to cope with these obstacles, which is also displayed in their own projection as professional translators: You are able to work under any circumstances and even current circumstances with a pandemic. These are no excuses for translators to stop doing what they need to do, because today everything is, or most things are, available in digital spaces. The pandemic doesn’t affect any of that, so [translators] just have to carry on. (Ana, INT3, TIE)

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REFERENCES Ansaldi, O. and Pardo-Vergara, M. (2020). ‘What constitution? On Chile’s constitutional awakening’. Law and Critique 31(7): 7–39. BBC News Mundo. (2020). Coronavirus: identifican primer caso de covid-19 en Chile [Coronavirus: First Case of Covid-19 Identified in Chile]. Available online: https://www.bbc. com/mundo/noticias-america-latina-51729957 (accessed 3 March 2020). Day, R., Field, P., Campbell, I. and Reutter, L. (2005). ‘Students’ evolving beliefs about nursing: From entry to graduation in a four-year baccalaureate programme’. Nurse Education Today 25(8): 636–43. Erikson, E. H. (1968). Identity: Youth and Crisis. New York: Norton. Ewick, P. and Silbey, S. (2003). ‘Narrating social structure: Stories of resistance to legal authority’. American Journal of Sociology 108: 1328–72. Haro-Soler, M. M. (2017). ‘Teaching practices and translation students’ self-efficacy: A qualitative study of teachers’ perceptions’. Current Trends in Translation Teaching and Learning E 4: 198–228. Helson, R. and Srivastava, S. (2001). ‘Three paths of adult development: Conservers, seekers, and achievers’. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 80(6): 995–1010. Hurtado Albir, A. (2011). Traducción y Traductología: Introducción a la Traductología [Translation and Translation Studies: Introduction to Translation Studies]. Madrid: Cátedra. Kroger, J. and Marcia, J. E. (2011). ‘The identity statuses: Origins, meanings, and interpretations’. In S. J. Schwartz, K. Luyckx and V. L. Vignoles (eds), Handbook of Identity Theory and Research, 31–53. London: Springer. Marcia, J. E. (1966). ‘Development and validation of ego identity status’. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 3(5): 551–8. Said, C. (2020). ‘Clases estarán suspendidas todo abril y se extenderá el año escolar [Classes will be suspended throughout April and the school year will be extended]’. La Tercera. Available online: https://www.latercera.com/nacional/noticia/clases-estaran-suspendidastodo-abril-y-se-extendera-el-ano-escolar/GUEZUIRJGJAG3PJKFV6ZVYWGAU/ (accessed 26 March 2020). Singer, N. (2021a). ‘How committed are you to becoming a translator? Defining translator identity statuses’. Translator and Interpreter Trainer 16(2): 141–157. Doi: 10.1080/1750399X.2021.1968158. Singer, N. (2021b). The Development of Translator Identity: A Phenomenological Study of Chilean Translation Students. PhD. Manchester: University of Manchester. Skorikov, V. B. and Vondracek, F. W. (2011). ‘Occupational identity’. In S. J. Schwartz, K. Luyckx and V. L. Vignoles (eds), Handbook of Identity Theory and Research, 693–714. London: Springer. Smith, J. A., Flowers, P. and Larkin, M. (2009). Interpretative Phenomenological Analysis: Theory, Method and Research. London: Sage. Tan, C. P., Van der Molen, H. T. and Schmidt, H. G. (2017). ‘A Measure of professional identity development for professional education’. Studies in Higher Education 42(8): 1504–5119. Doi: 10.1080/03075079.2015.1111322.

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CHAPTER TWELVE

The Role of Translation in Ensuring Children’s and Family’s Rights and Psychological Well-being in the Context of the Migration Crisis at the US-Mexico Border DANIELLE GONZALEZ BUSTAMANTE, RYAN MATLOW AND LISA M. BROWN

INTRODUCTION This chapter describes the experiences of children and families seeking refuge and highlights multiple missed opportunities for providing appropriate and beneficial translation throughout the immigration and custody process. Specific risks related to recent changes in US immigration policy as well as the current COVID-19 pandemic will be addressed. In this context, asylum seekers’ lives are in limbo, as they generally lack protected legal status while being forced to wait in Mexico under less-thanoptimal conditions with limited access to healthcare and other basic resources. Exposure of children and their families to adverse conditions and traumatic stressors can result in enduring adverse health and psychological consequences. Finally, recommendations for translation strategies that are necessary when communicating with children and families within the current humanitarian crisis at the US-Mexico border are provided.

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THE CONTEXT FOR MIGRATION: A TRANSNATIONAL AND TRANSCULTURAL JOURNEY The United States, when compared to other countries, has one of the largest immigrant populations with approximately 50.3 million immigrants currently living in the United States (International Organization for Migration, 2021). These immigrants represent approximately 19 per cent of the 244 million immigrants around the world and about 15 per cent of the US population (US Customs and Border Protection, 2020). In recent decades, immigrants arriving to the United States have primarily entered by land via the US Southern border with Mexico. From 2010 to 2020, unprecedented numbers of children and families were arriving at the border in search of refuge and care (Khullar and Chokshi, 2019). Children and families arriving at the US-Mexico border have typically survived significant traumas in their country of origin (e.g. political persecution, domestic or community violence, extreme poverty, serious health conditions) and additionally endure significant risks and adversities during the migration journey (e.g. health risks, victimization, kidnapping, extortion). Migration trends are influenced broadly by ‘push’ and ‘pull’ factors. Push factors, described above, are the reasons immigrants have for leaving their country of origin, and pull factors are the attractive characteristics that are drawing them to a destination country. Pull factors include reunification with family members; opportunities for education, employment, healthcare access and pursuit of safety and refuge from violence, persecution and humanitarian crises (Suárez-Orozco et al., 2012). Currently, a majority of the immigrants crossing the border are coming from Central America, with a predominance of people coming from El Salvador, Honduras and Guatemala (Médecins sans Frontières, 2017). The migration experience is a difficult and risky journey that most people are forced into, given significant ongoing threats to family safety and security and lack of alternative avenues for protection. During a migration journey, immigrants may face criminal gangs, hunger, illness and constant fear for their lives and their loved ones (Médecins sans Frontières, 2017). Research has found that when immigrants report mental health disorders, their symptoms are typically attributable to their migration experience (SuárezOrozco et al., 2012). Numerous factors associated with emigration may also heighten risk for psychological illness, including separation from family, changes in social identity and economic status, and dealing with new cultural norms. Resulting mental health problems may include anxiety, depression, substance use, posttraumatic stress disorder and suicidal ideation (Suárez-Orozco et al., 2012). Additional stressors that immigrants frequently encounter include issues pertaining to acculturation, trauma, discrimination and racism. The stress and adversity of migration can interfere with adaptation processes when and if the person reaches their destination country (Menjívar and Perreira, 2019). The heterogeneity of experience across families originating from the same country can be ascribed to the clash of navigating between two different cultures and previous experiences in their country of origin (Gaytán, Carhill and Suárez-Orozco, 2007). Immigrants are often targeted for crime and victimization as it is almost impossible for them to make legal complaints and engage authorities for assistance (Médecins sans Frontières, 2017). Moreover, the crimes against them may come from the person (‘el coyote’) helping them get to their destination, making them highly vulnerable due to their dependence on their perpetrator. Immigrants have reported crimes being perpetrated by the people helping them get to the border including kidnapping, physical violence, sexual violence and

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murder. This violence may be a one-time occurrence or continually occurring for days or weeks on end (Médecins sans Frontières, 2017). Once arriving in their destination country, the trauma does not necessarily come to an end. Human rights activists and healthcare professionals have enumerated a long list of negative consequences that commonly result from separating children from their parents (Khullar and Chokshi, 2019). Children are at a higher risk of mental health conditions, atypical physical growth, physical illnesses and morbidity (Maniam, Antoniadis and Morris, 2014). Moreover, effects due to trauma exposure are known to be cumulative, meaning that people who experienced traumatic situations in the past will be at higher risk of psychological impairment when facing new stressful events (Conway et al., 2020). Once people are at the US-Mexico border, they encounter screenings, court proceedings and temporary government custody in detention facilities that can intensify their stress and adversely affect their health (Menjívar and Perreira, 2019). The poor conditions of detention facilities and the challenges encountered when attempting to navigate the legal system in pursuit of asylum or protected status adds further stress. Moreover, once they are permitted to enter the United States, many immigrants and asylum seekers fear deportation and having to return to their countries of origin. This fear makes many immigrants reluctant and distrustful of seeking help and using available resources. Recent immigration policies and the current COVID-19 pandemic make immigrants and asylum seekers even more vulnerable (Torres et al., 2018). Understanding the psychological repercussions that the migration process could have on people is important for informing enhancements to the reception and response processes, including the provision of support services (Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration, 2020). Use of trauma-informed practices during all stages of the process may be particularly beneficial. People who have experienced trauma are at higher psychological risk when they are not able to communicate and express their needs. The well-documented traumarelated difficulties that impact language, memory and narrative coherence make the need for appropriate and sensitive translation even more urgent. The crisis at the border is not only a moral crisis but a public health emergency as well. Immigrants and asylum seekers have limited resources and limited access to mental and medical healthcare. In recent decades, federal policies have undermined the safety, health and security of immigrants, in violation of basic human right tenets. In seeking refuge and protected legal status, mental health and legal services are basic resources that most people will require. Essential components of legal and mental health care that rarely receive adequate attention are translation and interpretation services (Gaytán, Carhill and Suárez-Orozco, 2007). Not surprisingly, language barriers present significant obstacles for children and families seeking asylum. According to Angelelli (2015), the Tijuana-San Diego border is one of the world’s busiest ports of entry, with around 21,000 agents hired for border control. Notably, bilingual language skills are not a requirement for this position. Moreover, the need for using local, professional interpreters is not considered. Agents usually use remote services when an interpreter is needed. Furthermore, these remote interpretation companies appear to be more concerned with getting the job done than with the use of certified interpreters and the quality of the interpretation provided. Access to justice and fair treatment is hindered when services that are offered to a person are not in a language they can understand. As Angelelli (2015: 201) noted: From quality to availability, from cost of provision to matching language combinations, judicial systems are not always in a position to meet the communicative needs of all

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people, so that access to justice becomes real… If our goal as a society is ‘justice for all’, more attention needs to be paid to the ways in which all human beings have (or do not have) access to it. Linguistic diversity and quality interpreting cannot be ignored. Language barriers are a significant issue for all immigrants and asylum seekers, but it’s especially detrimental for those that speak an indigenous language, which is the case for a lot of immigrants coming from Central America. Wallace and Hernández (2017) found in their literature review that the US Department of Homeland Security (DHS) does not provide training for its employees so they can recognize minority languages and does not have standard protocols for translating these languages if needed. Appropriate translation services should not be considered a secondary resource but a basic necessity for immigrants who have arrived at the border. As a way to start facilitating a humanitarian process that results in fair and just outcomes, it is critical that immigrants understand what the process is and what is expected of them. The lack of adequate translation and interpretation services upon reception at the border has significantly contributed to the severity of the current humanitarian crisis.

CURRENT EXPERIENCES UPON ARRIVAL AT THE BORDER According to US policy, immigrants and asylum seekers may ask for protection by going to an official port of entry or by trying to cross between these ports of entry (Women’s Refugee Commission, 2016). Immigration policy enforcement is led by two US agencies: Customs and Border Protection (CBP) and Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE). CBP’s main role is to secure the US border, enable trade and prevent terrorist activity. Among their responsibilities, CBP is in charge of apprehending people crossing into the United States illegally and preventing the entry of illicit contraband into the country (Women’s Refugee Commission, 2016). The border patrol, housed within CBP, is the agency responsible for processing, apprehending and detaining non-US citizens seeking entry into the country. ICE is responsible for enforcing immigration laws for people who are already residing in the United States. ICE’s primary goal is to ensure that immigrants who live in the United States are doing so legally (Women’s Refugee Commission, 2016). Once apprehended by the border patrol, people are transferred to the Office of Field Operations (OFO), where it will be determined if they are eligible to enter the United States based on their immigration status (American Immigration Council, 2020). CBP detains adults and children and is the first agency that has contact with unaccompanied alien children (UAC), the term used by government officials to categorize minors who are arriving without a direct biological parent. UAC are typically transferred to facilities within the Office of Refugee Resettlement (ORR), within seventy-two hours of being detained. The conditions of the CBP facilities are far from humane, with holding facilities for children and families colloquially referred to as the ‘icebox’ (‘la hielera’) and the ‘dogpound’ (‘la perrera’) because of its cage-like fencing (American Immigration Council, 2020; Wallace and Hernández, 2017). In some instances, families have been detained outside under bridges and in makeshift tents, sometimes over the course of weeks and months. Other reports from these facilities reveal unsanitary conditions, lack of bedding, poor quality food, limited water and minimal medical care. There have been reports from non-citizens about being denied treatment for medical conditions or not allowed

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access to medical staff (American Immigration Council, 2020). People held within CBP have limited access to legal counsel and use of telephones to contact relatives or lawyers. Lawyers are not allowed to enter these facilities. Not surprisingly, this is a major problem for people who are detained in these facilities. Many report being pressured into making statements and signing documents with legal implications that they did not fully understand because they were unable to read or speak English and translation services were not offered (American Immigration Council, 2020). In their efforts to find and remove ‘illegal’ immigrants from the US, ICE maintains detention facilities that include federal prisons, private facilities, hotels and some hospitals (American Immigration Council, 2020). Most of the detention facilities are in remote locations spread throughout the country, which makes it difficult for attorneys and translators to visit detainees. Similar to what happens with CBP, people who are detained in these facilities sometimes have to make legal decisions without understanding the implications of their statements due to a lack of translation services. In 2018, when the US Department of Justice declared the ‘Zero-Tolerance Policy for Criminal Illegal Entry’, ICE forcibly separated approximately 5,400 families that were approaching the border (Spagat, 2020). The children and their caregivers were taken to different places without being provided any information as to what was going to happen next (Bouza et al., 2018). Not offering asylum seekers interpretation services deprives these people of dignity as they are being forced to share their stories in a language they have not mastered (Benton, 2019). Wallace and Hernández (2017) explained how asylum seekers and immigrants have restrictions to essential resources such as legal counsel. Immigrants depend on volunteer or pro-bono lawyers to provide services for their case. Moreover, access to an interpreter is not guaranteed. Immigrants and asylum seekers are dependent on volunteers for translation services. Without proper access to translation services, there is potential for misunderstandings that could result in incorrect assessment and erroneous information when gathering necessary data for a person’s legal case. Even worse, it could result in a wrong decision and deportation to the person’s country of origin where they are in severe danger of violence, health risk, psychological harm or death (Wallace and Hernández, 2017).

Unaccompanied children When UAC reach the US-Mexico border, they are held until someone inside the United States can claim them (e.g. a legal US resident and relative of the child), unless they had obtained prior legal authorization to enter the country (Women’s Refugee Commission, 2016). The ORR is the programme that manages UAC and handles the cases of children under eighteen years old with no lawful immigration status in the United States and with no biological parent or legal guardian available to take care of the child in the United States. The ORR is under the Department of Health and Human Services (HHS) that, by law, is responsible for the custody and care of these children (Administration for Children and Families, 2020). CBP agents are usually the ones who apprehend these children. Following apprehension and once DHS has confirmed that the child qualifies as an UAC, the child must be transferred to a specific agency within seventy-two hours. These transfers are part of the responsibilities of ICE (Women’s Refugee Commission, 2016). Despite established standards that every child in US custody ‘be promptly placed in the least restrictive setting that is in the best interest of the child, subject to considerations of

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TABLE 12.1  Total Apprehensions 2018–20 in Different Sectors of the United States (Source: US Customs and Borders protection, United States, 2020) Sector

Total Apprehensions 2018

Total Apprehensions 2019

Total Apprehensions 2020

8,045

9,637

8,628

Del Rio

15,833

57,269

40,342

El Centro

29,230

35,138

27,492

El Paso

31,561

182,143

54,397

Laredo

32,641

38,378

51,425

162,262

339,135

90,206

San Diego

38,591

58,049

53,282

Tucson

52,172

63,490

66,076

Yuma

26,244

68,269

8,804

396,579

851,508

400,652

Big Bend

Rio Grande

Border Total

whether the child is a danger to self or others’ (Administration for Children and Families, 2020), many children are held for extended periods of time in residential centres that are not child friendly or developmentally appropriate. In 2018, the DHS apprehended 396,479 families and children. Out of these immigrants, 107,212 were families with children and 50,036 were UAC. In 2019, the numbers increased dramatically. A total of 851,508 families with children or UAC were apprehended: 473,682 families with children and 76,020 UAC. In 2020, 400,652 families with children or UAC were apprehended. The decrease observed during 2020 may be explained by the COVID-19 pandemic (US Customs and Border Protection, 2020). See Table 12.1 for further details. ORR has four types of detention facilities that range from minimum to maximum restriction. The facilities include foster care, shelters, group homes, therapeutic foster care, residential treatment and staff-secure facilities (Women’s Refugee Commission, 2016). More recently, ORR has provided temporary ‘influx’ facilities and Emergency Intake Sites (EIS) due to lack of capacity to house the large numbers of arriving UACs in traditional shelters. Notably, these influx facilities and EIS are not subject to childcare licensing standards that apply to other ORR facilities. A child’s placement is based on their individual presentation and perceived level of risk to self or others, as well as ORR’s capacity. These placement decisions are made by ORR staff, and children often have little opportunity to express their placement needs and wishes. When children get to ORR, they are put in contact with a sponsor in the United States, via an ORR-contracted case manager, who assumes responsibility for them while their case is being processed. The sponsor could be the caretaker, a relative or a non-relative adult who is willing to take care of the child. ORR takes responsibility for providing the child with an education, mental and medical services, case management, recreation and unification services with a close relative or a sponsor, which includes a home evaluation to guarantee the safety

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of the child and appropriate follow-up (cf. Administration for Children and Families, 2020). Some children are never reunited with a sponsor but are granted legal status and can remain in the country. These children will be transferred to the Unaccompanied Refugee Minor Program (URM). The URM takes legal responsibility for these minors and ensures that these children obtain all the basic care they need as foster children (Women’s Refugee Commission, 2016). Furthermore, if a child turns eighteen years old, they may be transferred to ICE and evaluated as an adult. US immigration authorities’ stated goal is to ensure children’s well-being and unification with their families. However, these reunification processes are often disrupted when the parent or the potential sponsor does not have legal immigration status or residency (Médecins sans Frontières, 2017), which is often the case. Extensive sponsor background check requirements (e.g. fingerprinting of all adults living in the sponsor’s residence) implemented under the Trump administration presented significant challenges to reunification, leading to drastic increases in the numbers of children (as well as length of stay) in ORR custody during 2018–19. During their migration journey, UAC have to rely on strangers to help them as the majority have limited knowledge of what to expect or do when they reach the border. Once they reach the border, more often than not, children do not know how to explain their situation accurately. If they are asylum-seeking children, they may be mistaken for immigrants and given this status instead of that of a refugee (Menjívar and Perreira, 2019). Understandably, children do not understand their rights or even the proper terms they need to use when asking for their rights or requesting resources they need. This problem is further worsened due to language barriers. Age-appropriate explanation of their options in a language they understand is imperative. Officials in the United States have been criticized for inadequately screening children and for providing insufficient legal representation that could result in these children being sent back to their countries of origin (Menjívar and Perreira, 2019).

Asylum seekers As noted earlier, asylum seekers are a vulnerable subgroup of the population among immigrants, as their return to their country of origin could potentially result in death or serious harm. Asylum is a protective status granted to non-US residents that qualify for safety and legal status. A refugee is a person who is unable to obtain protection or return to their country of origin, due to a well-founded fear of persecution based on their religion, race, nationality, membership in a particular social group or political affiliation (American Immigration Council, 2020). A person granted asylum is able to stay and work in the US. When people seek asylum at the border, they may face an ‘expedited removal’ by the DHS, where DHS will return these individuals to their home countries. To ensure that the DHS is not violating laws, they use ‘credible fear’ and ‘reasonable fear’ screening processes. Credible fear screening is for people who are subjected to expedited removal proceedings if the person tells a CBP officer that they fear persecution, fear return to their country or want to apply for asylum. This person is entitled to an interview by an asylum officer. Reasonable fear screening is the same process as credible fear screening but is used for people who re-enter the United States illegally after a prior removal order (American Immigration Council, 2020). However, it has been reported that many CBP officials do not follow these policies, and asylum seekers are not granted an appropriate type of

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screening. With new COVID-19 regulations, there has been an increase of people who have been sent back to their country of origin or retained in Mexico without a credible fear screening (American Immigration Council, 2020). The rate of securing asylum is relatively low because of the requirements for attaining this status. To attain protected status, people need a good legal case and require strong representation to present a compelling argument for entry and protection. Many immigrants are not able to hire an attorney and resort to defending themselves without understanding US legal terms, the language of the documents they are required to sign and the laws they agree to abide by (Médecins sans Frontières, 2017; Krishnaswami and Griffey, 2019). Those who are unable to get US citizenship and have no relatives legally living in the asylum will have no other option than to return to their country of origin or move to another country. There have been reports of people being killed by gangs after they return home (Médecins sans Frontières, 2017; Krishnaswami and Griffey, 2019).

Recent barriers to asylum-seeking In January 2019, the DHS announced the Migrant Protection Protocols (MPP) policy. Under this policy, asylum seekers are forced to return to Mexico while waiting for their migration hearing in the United States. In March 2020, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) issued (under Title 42) an order to ‘suspend the introduction of persons who have been in Coronavirus Impacted Areas’ (CDC, 2020). All non-essential travel at the US border was banned, including entry of asylum seekers and UAC. The border patrol started banishing people who arrived at the US-Mexico border without giving them an opportunity to pursue an asylum claim such as a credible fear screening. UAC were sent back to their countries of origin within hours of their arrival and without any protection or health screening to guarantee their safe return home. By September 2020, there were an estimated 8,800 UAC and 7,600 families with minors who were forced to return to their country of origin under this policy. Additionally, all MPP hearings at the border were suspended until further notice. In essence, the asylum process was shut down for a one-year period for people who were arriving at the US-Mexico border during the pandemic, including those who were placed in MPP (Loweree, Reichlin-Melnick and Ewing, 2020). By November 2020, approximately 67,000 asylum seekers had been placed in MPP and forced to remain in Mexico. Many of these people live in makeshift camps or unofficial shelters near the border where they are exposed and vulnerable to assault and violence.

THE ROLE OF TRANSLATION Within the context of the recent humanitarian crisis at the US-Mexico border, there were several missed opportunities to provide appropriate and adequate translation and interpretation services, that would serve to protect and advance the health and human rights of immigrant children and families. While there are various factors and forces contributing to the failure of the US government to protect the health and rights of immigrant children and families, an adequate translation could ameliorate and mitigate some of these threats. Four opportunities for translation to play a pivotal role are as follows: (1) arrival and reception, (2) custody and detention, (3) immigration and asylum proceedings and (4) accessing community resources. Each opportunity is discussed in detail below.

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Arrival and reception When children and families first arrive at the US-Mexico border (and either present themselves at official ports of entry or are apprehended by CBP), their first line of protection is to state that they are seeking asylum and that they fear (1) return to their country of origin, or (2) are at risk in Mexico. It is therefore critical that individuals and families are able to effectively state their claims and convey their risks and fears at this initial point of processing. However, if there are no translation or interpretation services available during this first point of contact, the next best scenario is that the immigration agent in contact with the family happens to speak the family’s native language. Determinations and reports made at initial reception impact the subsequent flow of processing through the immigration system and influence subsequent determinations made by authorities regarding asylum claims. For example, under MPP, anybody ‘who has expressed fear of return to Mexico’ should be provided an opportunity for a non-refoulement interview (that would result in removal from MPP and permission to enter the United States under temporary status). However, this opportunity clearly hinges on an individual’s ability to adequately express themselves and convey their fear(s). In many cases, to do so will require the use of translation and interpretation services (US Customs and Border Protection, 2020). Yet access to such services is not routinely made available. Asylum seekers can be accompanied by others (e.g. to help with translation) as they initially present their claims, but such supports are only provided on a volunteer basis and are highly limited and variable at the border. Furthermore, immigrants and asylum seekers have the right to know about the admission criteria and what they need to do to request asylum. However, in practice, there is no accurate or easily available information to share with this population that explains in detail their rights (Médecins sans Frontières, 2017). On occasion, information may be available in the form of written postings (typically in Spanish and English), but often with legal terms that can be difficult to understand even if it is written in the native language of the reader.

Custody and detention Another opportunity where the role of translation or interpretation is essential is when people have arrived at a specific agency (i.e. CBP, ICE, ORR) and cannot communicate or express their needs. Inability to communicate in detention settings increases psychological distress and risk for children and families in custody. Individuals with health or psychological risks are in danger while in threatening, unsafe or unsanitary CBP detention facilities. The ability to mitigate and address risks depends in part on the ability to communicate and convey any pre-existing conditions or acute concerns arising while detained. In some cases, individuals and families travel with medical records and documentation of previous diagnoses and treatment recommendations. The burden is on families to have such documents translated in advance so that they are intelligible to facility staff. This is an extremely high standard for children and families who are often fleeing in crisis and facing ongoing risk. To minimize harm while in custody, children and families need to be able to engage in linguistically and culturally sensitive communication with facility staff. However, there are no official translation or interpretation services available to immigrant families while in custody, and volunteer services are extremely restricted. Interactions with CBP staff are often marred by miscommunication, misunderstanding and confusion. These health risk concerns are particularly salient in the context of the COVID-19 pandemic, where crowded living conditions increase the risk

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of becoming contagious. Inability to express and communicate one’s needs and risks (e.g. being immunocompromised) can result in unaddressed psychological or health concerns. Furthermore, culturally insensitive interactions with facility staff contribute to migrant children and family’s experiences of racism, discrimination and abuse while in custody.

Immigration and asylum proceedings During immigration processing and hearings, people need appropriate translation and interpretation services to ensure a fair and competent review and judgement. Immigration processing often entails multiple appointments and hearings, accompanied by reception and submission of numerous official forms and notices, that frequently need to be completed over an extended period of time. There are multiple points in this process when refuge-seeking children and families could experience inadequate, inappropriate or no translation services that could jeopardize their health, well-being and safety. Concerns are evident at the outset, as revealed in the following account from a former US asylum officer (Stephens, 2019): If, and only if, an asylum-seeker expresses a fear of returning to Mexico to Customs and Border Patrol (CBP) [a]gents, CBP notifies the [Asylum] Office. Interviews are conducted telephonically that same day. Officers remain in their home office and conduct a three-way call with migrants being held in a CBP detention facility on the border and a third-party interpreter. The telephone connections are bad; the line is often fuzzy or has static, and calls are frequently dropped. The asylum seeker is denied access to legal representation during the interview and the interview will not be postponed giving the applicant an opportunity to find and confer with counsel…  Here we are conducting the interviews telephonically, often with poor telephone connections, while at the same time denying applicants any time to rest, gather evidence, witnesses, or other relevant information and, most egregious of all denying them access to legal representation. The provision of translation and interpretation services via telephone because the asylum seeker, government official, and translator are all in different locations is not aligned with best practices (Rousseau, Measham and Moro, 2011). People are impeded in telling their story and conveying their concerns and fears during a phone interview with strangers (Human Rights Watch, 2021). Throughout the process there is a general failure to provide adequate information about asylum, detention, custody processes, procedures and resources (e.g. health and legal services, basic rights, whereabouts of family members). This in turn results in disempowerment, insecurity, mistrust, fear and increased distress (Médecins sans Frontières, 2017). As an example, an individual who was seeking asylum reported that he did not understand the purpose of the non-refoulement interview. Review of official government documents (provided to the individual in English) indicated that he had received a full interview. The individual was completely unaware that an outcome had been determined as a result of this interview (Human Rights Watch, 2021). Similar to non-refoulement interviews, credible fear interviews and asylum hearings are marked by multiple missed opportunities for translation. As reported by Human Rights Watch (2021): For many people, the experience of attending the first hearing is disconcerting because they expect to be able to tell the judge why they left their home countries. Instead, they

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receive a 12-page asylum application in English, a directive to complete the application in English and provide English translations of all supporting documents, and another court date, the sole purpose of which is to receive their completed application and set an individual hearing to consider it. Furthermore, in the context of the pandemic, asylum hearings have been conducted by video in makeshift ‘tent courts’, and, given this modality, numerous concerns have been noted regarding the ability for people to understand the proceedings and effectively convey their claims. As reported by Human Rights Watch (Gilman and Paoletti, 2019): Asylum seekers take turns at a small table in the front of the room with two chairs that face a giant television screen with video showing the immigration judge and interpreter in San Antonio. The microphone rests on the table, so sound is easily accidently muffled. The video cuts out approximately once every forty minutes, and all communication between the facility in Laredo and the court in San Antonio is lost at such moments. In addition, there are multiple concerns regarding the accurate translation of documentation that is received from immigration authorities and required to be submitted with asylum applications during the proceedings. Furthermore, another important aspect to consider is that some asylum seekers are not literate, either in their native language or English. In many cases, notices from US government officials conveying required appointment times for immigration hearings or details regarding reports and claims are issued only in English and in written format. Anecdotal evidence and the authors’ personal accounts suggest that there are many missed opportunities for improvement to translation services. There is no standard for providing information or notices in the family’s native or preferred language, meaning that circumstances and practices vary widely across different points of entry along the border. In the authors’ experience, it has been the case that families receive formal written notices in English only, leaving the burden on families to access translation services, with no guarantees or assurances that they will have access to materials in their native language or in a non-written format. There are volunteer organizations and grassroots agencies that offer translation support in the border community, but an individual family’s access to these volunteer supports varies widely across the border. In numerous cases, concerns have been raised as to whether asylum seekers received appropriate notice of reports and determinations because the person had not received the information in their native language (Human Rights Watch, 2021). Immigration courts require documentation of the risk of danger or persecution in the community of origin (e.g. news reports, medical records, police records) to be presented in English. In many cases, asylum seekers do not have this documentation because they were forced to flee their country. If they have proper documentation, they most likely will not have it in English, and most importantly, affordable translation services are challenging to obtain.

Accessing community resources Children and families have experienced numerous difficulties in accessing community resources while in shelter or awaiting immigration processing. Again, translation and interpretation services would aid many people in obtaining available services. Migrant children and families have complex needs that necessitate engagement with medical,

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mental health, social services and the legal system to maintain their health, well-being and basic human rights. Migrants who are temporarily sheltering in Mexican border cities (e.g. due to MPP or Title 42 bans on entry) are frequently refused service or discriminated against by local service providers because of xenophobia and already limited resources. Migrant families have expressed high levels of mistrust in engaging with health services, fearing that they may put themselves at risk for persecution or deportation, resulting in missed opportunities to access these essential supports (Human Rights Watch, 2021). While these adversities and challenges are indeed present for Spanish-speaking families, they are particularly pronounced for those whose native language is not Spanish (e.g. indigenous populations, people who speak Portuguese or Creole). The provision of trauma-informed and culturally sensitive translation and interpretation services could foster engagement with local service systems and prevent harm. Translation plays a critical role in the ability of children and families to access safety and security in accordance with universal human rights. Whether migrant families are waiting with their children in Mexico or being detained in government custody, having limited access to information or being unable to communicate their needs and risks because of miscommunication and language barriers can significantly exacerbate an already arduous and stressful situation. Clear communication, whether written, oral or nonverbal, should be standard in the reception of migrant children and families seeking refuge. Issues with translation and miscommunication can have tragic repercussions, such as increasing the risk of disease transmission during a pandemic or exposure to more violence or abuse.

Cultural considerations Having translations or interpreters available who can speak a particular language may not be sufficient. Culture is embedded in language, and when translating, if cultural considerations are not considered, the translation may be lacking or inaccurate. Furthermore, even within the same language, there could be differences among different groups. For instance, Spanish-speaking families may use jargon that is specific to their cultural group. One translation may not fit all immigrants, even if they speak the same language. Immigrants are a very heterogeneous group. Culture may inform the differing concept of distress, described as ‘idioms of distress’. Idioms of distress are specific ways of expressing suffering and symptoms for a particular culture. In other words, idioms of distress are the specific way a member of a sociocultural group express affliction. For instance, a culture may value emotional restraint, and their presentation of symptoms is expressed through their body (i.e. somatization) instead of their emotions or language (e.g. someone who won’t acknowledge sadness or cry, but has a constant headache without a medical explanation). An understanding of common idioms of distress is essential when working with culturally diverse populations as it will inform the evaluator of what to look for when assessing for symptoms of ‘credible fear’. It is particularly important when working with populations that have experienced trauma and/or are seeking asylum. When thinking specifically about Latinx populations that are reaching the US-Mexican border, these people share a common legacy of Spanish colonization and speak Spanish as their main language. Their shared language often results in all Latinx being grouped together. It’s no different for immigrants who are at the border. There are different immigration patterns and experiences in cultural adaptation among ethnic groups (Torres, 2004). People migrating from Mexico in search of a better job will not have the

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same experiences as someone migrating from Honduras who needs to escape persecution. The different reasons for migration inform potential mental health needs, different risks and even different legal policies and considerations (Torres, 2004). For instance, it is not the same to ban from entry into the United States (e.g. due to MPP or Title 42) a nonMexican immigrant, as it may result in additional stress and discrimination, as a Mexican immigrant, who will remain in their country of origin. For the immigrants who reach the US-Mexico border that are Latinx and share Spanish as their native language, there are linguistic differences and dialects. The Spanish spoken in Latin American countries is based on a combination of Spanish from Spain, African dialects and each country’s indigenous dialects. Following this idea, it is not surprising that words or whole sentences could sound and mean different things from one ethnicity to another. For instance, the word ‘straw’ has eleven different forms depending on who you ask (e.g. popote in Mexico, bombilla in Chile, pitillo in Venezuela). Furthermore, not every Latinx immigrant that reaches the US-Mexican border will speak Spanish. An accurate translation should take into account linguistic and cultural considerations to ensure that the person accurately understands their rights and their options. Other cultural considerations are important, such as sexual orientation, religion, socioeconomic status and educational level. However, thinking specifically about how cultural considerations inform translation services, age is a factor that requires special attention. For instance, when thinking about children, there is sometimes an assumption whereby they are regarded as naive victims with no need to receive detailed information on what’s happening. Although children’s needs during a crisis are linked with their basic needs, such as food and shelter, special attention must be paid to their developmental stage (Jones, 2008). How you explain to a twelve-year-old child that their parents are imprisoned is different than how a six-year-old child is informed (Jones, 2008).

RECOMMENDATIONS Translators, especially those who have a deep understanding of a specific cultural group, may be difficult to locate when needed. The ability to pay for services and the time required to translate are limited at the US-Mexico border. This makes it harder to provide translation and interpretation when it is most needed. However, understanding the flow of migration may help with dealing with the predicament of being prepared to provide information for newcomer immigrants at the border. For instance, awareness and familiarity with crises in Central America provides context for the reception of waves of asylum seekers and can inform processing procedures. With this information, agencies responsible for handling immigration and asylum cases could secure translation services tailored to these demographics. Understanding that translation should be available may shift how translation services are perceived. Incorporating a variety of communication strategies – such as having printed handouts in different languages to augment verbal instruction, providing opportunities to request clarification and confirming understanding of materials and procedures – should be considered part of basic human rights. For instance, if a person has not fully understood all their rights and legal options in a language they clearly understand, the legal process should not continue. A parallel argument applies in the courts’ treatment of mental competency in the United States. A person that has not demonstrated competency to stand trial (i.e. a defendant who understands the nature and purpose of the legal proceedings against them) cannot make

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any legal decision and should not be given a trial or a hearing until they are competent and understand their situation. The reason for this is to avoid a person being prosecuted or wrongly accused without them understanding the charges against them. However, these standards are not applied in the context of refuge and asylum seekers at the border. Many are often forced and coerced to sign documents and give statements that they do not fully (if at all) comprehend (Human Rights Watch, 2021). Classification of translation services as a basic necessity and as a primary component of human rights processes would likely increase the accuracy of the information being passed along to those at the US-Mexico border. A first step would be opening access to adequate (i.e. in-person) translation services during all stages of immigration processing where such access has been historically restricted (e.g. during credible fear interviews, while in detention). An additional measure would be to develop government-sanctioned standards, even if aspirational, for translation support to be applied uniformly across the border and at various points of entry. Furthermore, a moral and political argument can be made for the duty of receiving nations to assume financial responsibility for providing adequate translation services to arriving immigrants and asylum seekers, akin to having a responsibility to provide social services to refugees. Even if such an outcome is not reached, at minimum, a government-facilitated system of service coordination that connects immigrants and asylum seekers with locally available translation services would improve access to such services, even if the costs of direct translation services are shouldered by community, volunteer and/or nongovernmental organizations. When people have more and accurate information, they can make informed and better decisions. Access to information could potentially change migration patterns and policies. Use of intercultural interpreters and resources could be the difference between a fair hearing and sending a person to their death. Even if an oral translation is not always possible, having written information to give people at the border would begin to transform this process for the better (O’Brien and Federici, 2019). O’Brien and Federici (2019) described how crisis translation could be implemented during the current migration process. Crisis translation could reduce vulnerabilities by providing accurate information and resourceful communication to immigrants that would reduce costs in the long term. When changing policies, regulations or informing about legal requirements, there should be adequate notice by several mediums, such as radio, print materials and TV announcements, in Spanish and common indigenous languages of countries that are known to have a large proportion of immigrants. There should be specific protocols and guidelines to determine what is the best form of communication when working with indigenous speakers and to not assume that every immigrant that reaches the border will speak Spanish. Having protocols that describe how to proceed with people that speak an indigenous language would be an excellent step to improve communication (Rousseau, Measham and Moro, 2011). Protocols and requirements for interpretation upon reception of families should follow two primary recommendations. First, the interpreter should not only be knowledgeable in the language but also be familiar with the asylum seekers’ culture. Second, whenever possible, assign only one interpreter to each case. Having one person that is constant could reduce the possibility of miscommunications (Rousseau, Measham and Moro, 2011). Specifically, when working with families, it is important to always request an interpreter if one of the parents is not fluent in English, even if the child is fluent and willing to serve in this capacity. It is best to avoid using a child as an interpreter. Children

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placed in this position are already under significant stress and do not have the capacity or life experience to adequately translate legal terms for adults. Finally, interpreters should have a basic understanding of age-appropriate verbal and non-verbal language when interpreting for children (Rousseau, Measham and Moro, 2011).

SUMMARY It is imperative that translation services should be considered a basic human right. Linguistic diversity and cultural differences make it critically important that information is made available in the asylum seekers’ native language (O’Brien, Federici, Cadwell, Marlowe and Gerber, 2018). It is difficult to adequately respond to a person’s needs if you do not understand how they express themselves and if they do not understand how you are attempting to address them. This shift in approach would lead to translation services being considered a primary, rather than secondary, resource for crisis intervention. In fact, language translation should be a key component when it comes to crisis management. But the reality is that language translation is an underdeveloped and neglected tool (O’Brien, Federici, Cadwell, Marlowe and Gerber, 2018). Communicating is not enough. Immigrants, and anyone going through a crisis and at risk, should fully understand what is being communicated to them. It should be considered a human right to be able to know your situation in a language that you fully comprehend. Furthermore, understanding a culture better will promote a sense of safety and reduce mistrust if the person interviewed feels understood and heard. With current shifts in US federal leadership, there are new opportunities to implement policy and practice for more humane reception of migrant families fleeing danger in Central America and other countries. While many of the Trump-era policies that kept children and families waiting in Mexico (i.e. Migrant Protection Protocols) are being rescinded under the current Biden administration, at the time of writing this chapter, there are ongoing policies in place (e.g. Title 42 asylum ban) that prevent access to safety and increase the risk for harm. Even with the resolution of these harmful policies, the situation at the border in recent years provides a learning opportunity that has implications for future efforts to build policy, infrastructure and capacity to provide appropriate translation supports for children and families seeking refuge, in order to maintain and preserve rights and access to asylum and safety. There remain opportunities to build more humane and childfriendly immigration systems through national legislation, international agreement and through impact litigation (i.e. through class-action legal cases and settlements that set the standards of reception and care for asylum-seeking children and families, such as the Flores Settlement Agreement). These policies and practices should ensure adequate and appropriate translation and interpretation in order to ensure the protection of human rights – as well as child and family well-being – in accordance with international humanitarian standards.

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Menjívar, C. and Perreira, K. M. (2019). ‘Undocumented and unaccompanied: Children of migration in the European Union and the United States’. Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies 45(2): 197–217. O’Brien, S. and Federici, F. M. (2019). ‘Crisis translation: Considering language needs in multilingual disaster settings’. Disaster Prevention and Management: An International Journal 29(2): 129–43. O’Brien, S., Federici, F., Cadwell, P., Marlowe, J. and Gerber, B. (2018). ‘Language translation during disaster: A comparative analysis of five national approaches’. International Journal of Disaster Risk Reduction 31: 627–36. Rousseau, C., Measham, T. and Moro, M. R. (2011). ‘Working with interpreters in child mental health’. Child and Adolescent Mental Health 16(1): 55–9. Spagat, E. (2020). ‘Tally of children split at border tops 5,400 in new Count’. Associated Press. Available online: https://apnews.com/article/immigration-us-news-ap-top-news-az-state-wireca-state-wire-c654e652a4674cf19304a4a4ff599feb (accessed 7 August 2021). Suárez-Orozco, C., Birman, D., Casas, J. M., Nakamura, N., Tummala-Narra, P., Zárate, M. and Vasquez, M. (2012). Crossroads: The Psychology of Immigration in the New Century. Report of the APA Presidential Task Force on Immigration. Executive summary available online: http://www.apa.org/topics/immigration/executive-summary.pdf (accessed 7 August 2021). Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (2020). ‘Treatment-informedcare’. Available online: https://www.samhsa.gov/treatment-prevention-recovery/traumainformed-care (accessed 20 December 2020). Stephens, D. (2019). ‘Examining the human rights and legal Implications of DHS’ “Remain in Mexico” Policy’. US House Committee on Homeland Security, Subcommittee on Border Security, Facilitation, and Operations, 18 November, Available online: https://www. whistleblower.org/wpcontent/uploads/2019/11/11181coverletterTestimony-of-DouglasStephens-for-the-House-Homeland-Security-CommitteeFINAL.pdf (accessed 2 February 2021). Torres, S. A., Santiago, C. D., Walts, K. K. and Richards, M. H. (2018). ‘Immigration policy, practices, and procedures: The impact on the Mental Health of Mexican and Central American Youth and Families’. American Psychologist 73(7): 843–54. Torres, V. (2004), ‘The diversity among us: Puerto Ricans, Cuban Americans, Caribbean Americans, and Central and South Americans’, New Directions for Student Services 105: 5–16. U.S Customs and Border Protection (2020). ‘Data and statistics’. Available online: https://www. cbp.gov/newsroom/stats/usbp-sw-border-apprehensions (accessed 20 December 2020). Wallace, M. and Hernández, C. I. (2017). ‘Language access for asylum seekers in borderland detention centers in Texas’. Revista de Llengua i Dret, Journal of Language and Law 68: 143–56. Doi: 10.2436/rld. i68.2017.2940. Women’s Refugee Commission (2016). ‘Step-by-step guide on apprehension and detention of juveniles in the United States’. Available online: https://firstfocus.org/wp-content/ uploads/2016/09/Step-by-Step-Guide-on-Apprehension-and-Detention-of-Juveniles.pdf (accessed 20 December 2020).

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Accessible Crisis Communication for the Blind and the Visually Impaired in Multilingual Settings SILVIA RODRÍGUEZ VÁZQUEZ

People with Disabilities (PwD), who account for around 15 per cent of the population according to World Health Organization (WHO) statistics,1 have historically been at the centre of countless initiatives led by not-for-profit and international institutions worldwide advocating for a more equitable, inclusive, sustainable society. The United Nations Disability Inclusion Strategy (United Nations, 2019) and the Strategy for the Rights of Persons with Disabilities 2021–2030 (European Union, 2021) are just two examples of the collective efforts devoted to improving PwD lives and livelihoods. With the goal of providing guidance for national governments on how to empower PwD, these programmes urge member countries to actively respond to the challenges faced by this population group in different spheres of life, including education, employment, voting, mobility, healthcare and access to food and services, among many others. In the event of a public health emergency, such as the one caused by the COVID-19 outbreak at the beginning of 2020, those challenges can be strongly exacerbated. While the pandemic – still ongoing at the time of writing of this chapter – has taught us that we are all vulnerable when an unknown virus emerges, academics and specialized institutions seem to agree that the vulnerability of PwD was accentuated by a number of factors (Lazar, 2020; United Nations, 2020). These include, but are not limited to, pre-existing medical conditions and the barriers to implementing hygiene and protection measures, such as the difficulties some PwD have in washing their hands often or respecting social distancing due to lack of access to water, sanitation and hygiene facilities, or a reliance on physical contact to get support (Uldry and Leenknecht, 2021). In fact, the European Disability Forum has reported that, where data are available on the death rates from COVID-19 among PwD, there is evidence that they are more likely to die of coronavirus than people without disabilities (ibid.). Similarly, PwD are at higher risk of experiencing the negative impact of coronavirus’ cascading effects (United Nations, 2020; WHO, 2020), particularly during the response and recovery stages of the crisis. For instance, relevant organizations, such as the Irish

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Human Rights and Equality Commission, have pointed to an increased risk of poverty and social exclusion (Uldry and Leenknecht, 2021), while others have highlighted how COVID-19 has severely affected the physical health, mental health and well-being of PwD (Fitzsimons, O’Neill and Crawford, 2020). Guaranteeing barrier-free communication can contribute to alleviating some of the aforementioned difficulties and even preventing certain crisis effects. As in any emergency situation, PwD expected relevant stakeholders to ensure that life-saving, timely and complete information and basic web-based services (e-commerce, administration, healthcare) would be accessible at all levels throughout the different stages of the crisis. This means, in the terms laid out by O’Brien et al. (2018), that content should be (1) delivered in a format that they can perceive, operate, understand and interact with, and (2) translated into a language that they can read or hear. Over the last year, organizations of people with disabilities (OPDs) – both pan-disability organizations and others serving individuals with one or more type of impairment – placed particular emphasis on the first aforementioned form of accessibility and defended the need for public health information and communications around COVID-19 to be fully accessible. This was done through initiatives such as the ‘Accessibility Campaign – COVID-19’ by the International Disability Alliance (IDA) and the International Disability and Development Consortium,2 or the Call for Action published by the World Blind Union (WBU)3 and endorsed by other bodies immediately after the first outbreak (March 2020), including the European Blind Union (EBU).4 The United Nations (United Nations, 2020: 9) also expressed their concerns on this issue, implicitly referring to the ‘Essential for Some, Useful for All’ philosophy behind the implementation of accessibility best practices and trying to dispel the myth of accessibility costs. The mobilization of the OPDs and the efforts made by governmental bodies led to certain improvements during the pandemic period (e.g. in Spain, the mobile application designed to track COVID-19 cases was made accessible5 and the European Union committed to rendering the Digital COVID Certificate accessible6). However, communication barriers remain. In addition, while the existence of culturally and linguistically diverse (CALD) communities is a reality in today’s society, mention of language-related accessibility aspects in these programmes was scarce. As we will describe in this chapter, intralingual and intersemiotic translation issues and best practices were occasionally referred to (e.g. availability of Easy to Read or Braille materials), but sign language and tactile interpretation for the deaf and the deafblind in the context of COVID-19 support services were among the very few interlingual translation forms acknowledged (United Nations, 2020: 6). In a world where translation seems to be underestimated in crisis communication (O’Brien and Federici, 2020) and the implementation of accessibility best practices is not yet fully integrated in content creation processes during emergency situations (Rodríguez Vázquez and Torres-del-Rey, 2020), it was deemed pertinent to review the current gaps in the production of multilingual accessible information, as well as existing recommendations for successful communication for all in such contexts. Concretely, we will focus on the informational needs and communication experiences of the blind and visually impaired (BVI) community during the COVID-19 pandemic. Drawing upon evidence found in grey and academic literature and the insights gathered from a survey targeting the BVI communities in Spain and Ireland, we will highlight the main challenges encountered by this group with regard to multilingual information access during the recent state of emergency to then propose associated recommendations for relevant stakeholders. Throughout the chapter, we will take the case of these two countries as a reference to

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illustrate some of the accessibility and multilingual communication failures found, as well as the arguments put forward to advocate for future action.

RESEARCH BACKGROUND AND MOTIVATION Access to digital information by the BVI community In order to form an accurate picture of the issues faced by BVI people during the pandemic to retrieve and exchange relevant data, we first deem it necessary to briefly describe the methods used by this demographic to interact with digital content. The BVI community uses computers, tablets, smartphones and other devices to access digital information. While these devices are the same as those used by people who do not live with disabilities, they are augmented by a wide range of technologies, from hardware and software to adaptive and customizable solutions, known by the generic title of assistive technologies, or AT (Nicolau and Montague, 2019). Among the AT used by blind individuals, screen readers are the most popular tool to interact with computing devices. The role of this software is: 1. to convey the content which appears on-screen to the user or the information typed (or in the case of a tactile device touched) by the user through synthesized speech, Braille (by means of refreshable displays or other Braille-related devices) or a combination of both modalities; 2. to enable the user to query the contents of the screen using shortcut keys or gestures; for example, the user might press a key to read the current line, spell the current word or determine the font attributes of the current character. People with residual vision use a broad number of AT to access digital content, including screen magnifiers, increased text size, zooming tools, text-to-speech (TTS), modified contrast and inverted colours, among others (ibid.). This technology helps ease the strain on the eyes, which is often a significant factor for those who live with various forms of vision impairment. For the abovementioned technologies to efficiently lower the existing humancomputer interaction barriers for PwD, it is imperative that content is made available in formats, and using techniques, which guarantee its maximum accessibility. The Web Accessibility Initiative (WAI) of the World Wide Web Consortium (W3C) has produced a series of worldwide guidelines to ensure that websites and associated content are accessible. Concretely, the Web Content Accessibility Guidelines, also known as WCAG 2.1 (Kirkpatrick et al., 2018), were designed to enable developers, designers and content creators to produce materials which are operable, perceivable, understandable and robust for PwD. While they have proved to be a powerful tool to assist the various stakeholders involved in the creation of digital content in making information accessible, they are merely informative, and require a legal framework to enforce compliance. Of particular relevance in this chapter is the ‘Directive (EU) 2016/2102 of the European Parliament and of the Council of 26 October 2016 on the accessibility of the websites and mobile applications of public sector bodies’,7 which may include local hospitals and public health authorities. The objective of this directive was to ensure that, following transposition into national law in the corresponding member states, it would be incumbent on those creating and disseminating public information via websites or

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mobile apps to make said content accessible. The document also contains a requirement that national governments establish procedures for monitoring its implementations. This directive has been transposed into Irish law via the ‘S.I. No. 358/2020 – European Union (Accessibility of Websites and Mobile Applications of Public Sector Bodies) Regulations 2020’8 and into Spanish law through the ‘Royal Decree 1112/2018 of 7 September on accessibility of websites and applications for mobile devices in the public sector’,9 with both regulations referring either directly or indirectly to the conformance to international standards such as the WCAG 2.1. Interestingly, in both countries, these statutes indicate that websites of those fulfilling a public broadcasting function are exempted from compliance with the act. As broadcast organizations provided much of the digital content absorbed by citizens during the pandemic, it would be reasonable to hypothesize that this exclusion very likely had a detrimental effect on the ability of BVI people to access necessary information. In addition, while the existence of such laws should have at least guaranteed an accessible communication approach in public health websites, a recent study has already shed light on the accessibility failures found on the formats used to share up-to-date information related to the pandemic through these official channels (Alajarmeh, 2021; see also Chapter 16 of this volume).

Multilingual digital accessibility In the past decade, the accessibility of digital information has been explored from a multilingual perspective. Although much of the prior fundamental work on this topic revolves around issues related to media access, with subtitling, audiodescription, respeaking or sign language as the main areas of study (Remael and Reviers, 2020), some authors have rightfully depicted translators as facilitators of linguistic and technical accessibility, also in the web localization field. The subject has been studied from different angles, including the integration of accessibility best practices in localization teaching (Torres-del-Rey and Rodríguez Vázquez, 2016), tools and standards (Rodríguez Vázquez, 2016; Torres-del-Rey and Morado Vázquez, 2019) and industry processes (Rodríguez Vázquez and O’Brien, 2017). The theoretical insights and the empirical evidence gathered through these investigations over the last years seem to point to the following challenges in achieving accessible multilingual information: 1. lack of accessibility knowledge and know-how by key stakeholders in the multilingual digital content production chain, including, but not limited to, translators, localization engineers, DTP officers and project managers; 2. lack of standardized procedures and practical guidance to ensure accessibility conformance at all levels (linguistic, technical) in localized websites and associated content; 3. lack of technology support, where accessibility evaluation tools fail to cover the verification of language-oriented guidelines; and existing translation and localization aids do not fully support the implementation of accessibility recommended techniques for digital content. Rodríguez Vázquez and Torres-del-Rey (2020) recently laid the groundwork for exploring these and other challenges in the context of multilingual crisis communication. They examined the notions of vulnerability, disability and accessibility together, defining PwD not only as beneficiaries of specific information and services in times of crisis but also as contributors to better preparedness and as representatives of all individuals in planning

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for emergency situations. When discussing the availability of multilingual resources, they highlighted the importance of adhering to accessibility-oriented standards and adopting a Design for All approach to create and translate crisis-related information (ibid.). In particular, they stressed that original digital content that is made accessible should also remain accessible (or increase in accessibility) in the process of localization. To illustrate the rationale behind this statement, let us take one of the resources available on the website of the Spanish Ministry of Health in relation to the protection measures against COVID-19 for the general population.10 In the Spanish version of the website, the infographic ‘Cuatro claves para protegerse de la COVID-19’11 is available as an image in JPG format as well as in PDF, which is explicitly labelled as accessible and can also be accessed via an embedded TTS software from the document gallery view, featured under the section ‘¿Cómo podemos prevenir la infección?’ > ‘Claves para la prevención de la transmisión’. A close examination of the website allows us to observe that this is the standard practice used for all the PDF files available online. While exploring this issue in detail falls outside the scope of this chapter, it is worth noting that the accessibility label does not necessarily guarantee full content usability for BVI people. First, we observed that PDFs with more than two pages include the same lengthy footer in every page. Although accessible through AT, the information is redundant. Second, BVI individuals tend to prefer their own AT, as opposed to third-party embedded ones. Getting familiar with the new software might require unnecessary effort and technical issues may appear due to two TTS software programs running at the same time. However, the equivalent English version ‘Four key messages to protect you from COVID-19’,12 available under the section ‘Materiales en otros idiomas’ > English – Inglés, lacks the aforementioned label and the possibility of accessing it through said software is not provided. When both documents are assessed for accessibility compliance using manual and automatic testing methods – for instance, by using the accessibility tools available in Adobe Acrobat Pro DC – differences emerged. While the source document (ES) does not contain any accessibility issues, the target version (EN) proves to be not accessible for screen reader users. In the Spanish PDF, the meaningful content that should be identified and conveyed to the user by the AT is accurately marked and labelled according to the reading order in which it should be presented: the title is 1, the coronavirus illustration displayed next to it is 2 and so on. In addition, content types are correctly tagged – for instance, images are identified as such, including an appropriate text alternative. On the other hand, in addition to translation issues (e.g. text alternatives for images and the document footer were left in the source language), the English version suffers from several accessibility problems. It contravenes many of the ‘Techniques for WCAG 2.1’ (Campbell, Cooper and Kirkpatrick, 2021), some of which are listed below with no claim of being exhaustive: ●●

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PDF1: Applying text alternatives to images with the Alt entry in PDF documents: not only is some of the visually rendered text tagged as an image but also real figures lack a text alternative or include an inappropriate one (e.g. ‘Figure – virus.png’). PDF3: Ensuring correct tab and reading order in PDF documents: reading order is incorrect; for example, title is set in position 39. PDF4: Hiding decorative images with the Artifact tag in PDF documents: background images such as the blue, green and yellow boxes framing the text are not labelled to have a decorative function.

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PDF9: Providing headings by marking content with heading tags in PDF documents: title and blocks of content are not identified as such. PDF18: Specifying the document title using the Title entry in the document information dictionary of a PDF document: when the properties of the document are consulted, the title reads ‘Presentación PowerPoint’, while the title is appropriate in the case of the Spanish PDF. PDF19: Specifying the language for a passage or phrase with the Lang entry in PDF documents: The English PDF’s default language is set as Spanish, which would cause problems to an English-speaking screen reader user, as any readable text would be pronounced as if it was Spanish.

The document examined was randomly chosen for illustrative purposes from the extensive list of resources available in the selected website, so a more in-depth corpus analysis would be required to understand whether this was an isolated case or the norm across all the website materials. Yet, it appears to demonstrate that the challenges described above persist. We contend that these substantial flaws could represent a major obstacle for an effective crisis response among functionally, culturally and linguistically diverse (FUNCALD) communities (Rodríguez Vázquez and Torres-del-Rey, 2020), and that they underline the need for further research and action on the matter.

Multilingual communication during the COVID-19 pandemic Language translation has been set forth as a decisive instrument for crisis management (O’Brien et al., 2018). However, the state of emergency caused by the COVID-19 outbreak posed unprecedented informational challenges. First, little was known about the biology of the SARS-CoV-2 virus, how it was spread and how it could be contained. The existence of multiple sources – sometimes of dubious validity – and the lack of relevant protocols in place led to the publication of information on an availability and a need-toknow basis. As pointed out by Piekkari et al. (2021), this led to disruptions in translation workflows and the undesired prioritization of certain languages over others. In relation to the latter, Anichini and Nemeth (2020) referred to the associated costs of reworking translations due to continuous content updates as one of the potential reasons motivating such decisions. Second, the safety measures adopted, such as forced lockdowns, meant significant restrictions in the access to other forms of multilingual communication, such as interpreting services, which had to be done remotely.13 A search of the literature published since March 2020 revealed that most researchers and practitioners in the field of translation and crisis focused on three major areas of interest in relation to COVID-19 communication: (1) humanitarian translation, (2) the use of translation technologies, including Machine Translation (MT), and (3) the examination of national strategies adopted. In times of crisis, the role of non-professional translators can be crucial to provide access to information. Anecdotal evidence14 indicates that there have been significant efforts made worldwide to translate key COVID-19-related content to minority languages, including those not served by MT technology. For instance, at the time of writing, Translators without Borders (TWB) had translated over 6 million words of COVID-19 information into more than 100 languages since January 2020 (TWB, 2020). Similarly, TAUS launched the Human Language Project (HLP) to create human-generated, highquality, low-resource language data, helping minority communities in Asia and the Middle

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East (Aslan, 2020). In parallel with non-profit organizations, civilians in these areas also helped serve the needs of minority language speakers. Foreign university students (Zheng, 2020) and online volunteer translation communities (Zhang and Wu, 2020) faced time constraints, limited language proficiency and technical knowledge, showing a commendable spirit of solidarity. These efforts were vastly reinforced by the use of MT, which proved to be a powerful source of translated content, not only for low resource languages (Anastasopoulos et al., 2020) but also for more popular language pairs, such as Spanish-English or French-English (Way et al., 2020). In addition, the focus was not put only on lay users, but medical personnel were included among the MT output targeted audience, as clearly showcased through the COVID-19 Multilingual Information Access (MLIA) initiative.15 It is interesting to note that all this work seems to have positioned the vulnerability of speakers of (official or non-official) minority languages as the main motivation for action, rightfully considering them informationally disabled (Rodríguez Vázquez and Torres-del-Rey, 2020) – for example, the case of Spanish speakers in the United States and Arabic speakers in France, as reported by Piller (2020), or those using the more than eighty-eight languages spoken in England and Wales (UK) according to Evans (2020). Nonetheless, the challenges and needs of an informationally vulnerable person with a medically recognized form of impairment (either prior to the crisis or acquired because of it) were often neglected, with rare exceptions. When discussing the proliferation of multimodal texts relying on visual, audio and video content to convey vital information, Piekkari et al. (2021) made a tangential mention of the fact that these risked not being accessible. Other references made to additional forms of accessibility appear in some of the work done to explore the multilingual communication approach adopted by national governments. In the 2018 review by O’Brien et al. of disaster response approaches in five countries (Ireland, the UK, New Zealand, Japan and the United States), the authors identified that the use of Braille, large print and clear language were put forward across all approaches as alternative formats in which relevant information should be provided. In a later study, O’Brien, Cadwell and Zajdel (2021) further investigated the case of Ireland, examining governmental emergency response policies and guidelines (including websites) and conducting interviews with commissioners, providers and recipients of multilingual information during the pandemic. In terms of language coverage, they found that COVID-19-related materials were provided in up to twenty-four languages, including Irish Sign Language (ISL), although they highlighted that they were not simultaneously released. Their research revealed, in fact, that both ISL and Irish were particularly left behind, receiving less priority than other non-official languages. It is curious to note here that Spain seems to have followed a similar strategy: as of June 2021, the aforementioned document ‘Cuatro claves para protegerse de la COVID-19’ was not available in Galician, Catalan or Basque, which are co-official languages in Spain together with Spanish, but existed in nine non-official languages, including Arabic, Bulgarian, Chinese, English, French, German, Russian, Romanian and Urdu. Upon examination of the readability level of a selection of English documents from hse.ie and gov.ie, the authors reported an accepted level of linguistic accessibility, claiming that it could be understood by thirteen-to-fifteen-year-old students (ibid.). Among the recipients of the text being translated, their work points to nationals, migrants, easy language users and deaf and hearing-impaired communities. In terms of content, interesting findings were documented regarding the use of graphics. On

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the one hand, it was claimed that the heavy use of images in visual documents – which could certainly be problematic for accessibility – caused issues in translation workflows. In certain cases, on the other hand, resources were simplified during the translation process, resulting in predominantly textual materials, a strategy that could have proved beneficial for the BVI community. Regrettably, however, this group was scarcely mentioned, with no data reported on the availability of large print formats or files compliant with W3C standards. As can be inferred from the above, most studies have so far revolved around different process-related translation aspects (actors involved, tools used, strategies followed). Nevertheless, technical accessibility aspects, particularly those affecting blind people, clearly received less research attention.

CRISIS COMMUNICATION, COVID-19 AND THE BVI COMMUNITY As outlined at the beginning of the chapter, soon after the first COVID-19 outbreak, PwD publicly called for changes, and some content accessibility improvements were achieved in response to the disability movement. This was globally considered an important step forward, especially considering that PwD are more likely than others to use the internet for health-related activities in general (Scanlan, 2021). Yet key websites such as the World Health Organization (WHO) failed to serve the information needs of all citizens during the health crisis (Fernández-Díaz, Iglesias-Sánchez and JambrinoMaldonado, 2020). Stakeholders felt thus the need to keep pushing for concrete measures at a larger scale. In what follows, we attempt to (1) summarize the key recommendations made available on how to ensure accessible communication for BVI people during the pandemic, and (2) review the insights we gathered on the matter from consultations with members of this community already published in the literature.

Recommendations by non-profit organizations There is a growing body of grey literature published by OPDs and international organizations on various aspects related to accessibility. For the purposes of this work, we have collected information on the COVID-19 response from six key documents published by one pan-disability organization, the International Disability Alliance (2020); an OPD focusing on the blind, World Blind Union (2020a; 2020b); an OPC serving the deafblind, World Federation of the Deafblind (2020); and three international bodies, OCHA and UNICEF (2020) and WHO (2020). Although some of these publications cover a wide range of recommendations on spheres such as transportation, groceries and home supplies, work and education, we have concretely focused on language and communication guidance. Additionally, we have only retrieved recommendations relevant for the blind, deaf-blind and visually impaired individuals. Although initially designed for people with intellectual disabilities, easy-to-read content has also been considered a pertinent alternative format, as certain forms of simplified information could be beneficial for the community studied (e.g. by providing quicker access via AT, concise and clear messages, simpler layout). After the review of the aforementioned documents, sixteen recommendations were selected and organized around three main categories: (1) content, format and tools; (2) channel; and (3) process and services. They are presented in Figure 13.1.

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FIGURE 13.1  Summary of recommendations found in the grey literature related to accessible crisis communication.

Two key results emerged from the analysis of this restricted but enlightening corpus. First, the guidance provided remains general in nature, offering no detailed account on how to render content in specific formats (images, PDFs, videos) accessible, and not including any references to relevant guidelines and tools for that purpose. Hence, the impact of these resources could be undermined by the government, local and national authorities lacking the technical expertise required to apply these recommendations or find the information they need. Second, as expected, reference was made to several forms of intralingual and intrasemiotic translation, but the needs of CALD communities were disregarded. Apart from providing content in national sign languages, no other forms of interlingual translation were considered. It thus remains unclear how such recommendations could be put in place in multilingual settings, and whether and at what level compromises would need to be made.

Prior surveys targeting the BVI community As argued by Goggin and Ellis (2020), even if PwD got to experience how some of their long-standing demands for an enhanced quality of life, such as the possibility of working and studying from home, were accommodated almost overnight, they were particularly impacted by the pandemic cascading effects (isolation, deprioritization in healthcare). Several OPDs and academics with a particular interest in the BVI community have sought to document these and other challenges encountered by this vulnerable group, collecting data about their first-hand experiences throughout the different stages of the crisis. Grocery delivery, online education and public health messaging were three of the major topics of discussion among PwD in social media platforms (Gleason et al., 2020). In the context of the present chapter, we will pay more attention to the information accessibility aspects reported in existing literature with regard to the third topic.

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According to the World Blind Union (2020a), who surveyed over 800 BVI people worldwide, the pandemic brought to the surface communication-related challenges such as low digital literacy or confidence levels, as well as limited access to ICTs and assistive technologies. In addition, poor accessibility of digital content prevented people from carrying out essential tasks independently, and raised anxiety and fear levels. Rosenblum et al. (2020) reported similar findings on the American Foundation for the Blind’s survey, conducted with almost 2,000 BVI individuals in the United States. Respondents shared their frustration with regard to the lack of access to specific information about COVID-19, in addition to challenges with technology used to access other health-related data. Similarly, respondents showed concerns about the accuracy of the information received and the overreliance on visual content to educate about the new virus. Insights from a parallel survey conducted in the neighbouring country by the Canadian Council of the Blind indicate that about two-thirds of respondents (69 per cent) had accessed government information on COVID-19, with only 54 per cent saying that government announcements were fully accessible (Gordon, 2020). Holloway et al. (2020) aimed at exploring more in detail what type of information in particular was consulted by sighted and BVI adults, the main sources and in which formats. Of the twenty BVI people who participated in their survey, almost half acknowledged having relied on sighted assistance to access COVID-19 information. Their study also demonstrated that BLV (Blind or Low Vision) people had lower exposure to data about the pandemic, probably because their preferred formats were print or audio text. It was interesting to observe that the nature of the information consulted by BLV and sighted adults diverged. While the former were more interested in shopping and business or recommended daily living practices, the latter were attracted by data about infections by location or over time, as well as visualizations about the virus spread curve. A possible reason for this lack of interest in visual content by the BVI community could be due to the inaccessibility of COVID-19 data and graphics, which was later demonstrated by Siu et al. (2021). The findings from their survey revealed that, in fact, BVI users do place high importance on the consumption of data-driven media, but different factors prevent them from having full access to it. These range from the inaccessibility of the source itself to other user-related aspects, such as data literacy or varied preferences in the modality used to interact with the data. While touching on a wide range of challenges related to crisis communication, these studies mainly focus on English monolingual communities and failed to consider the potential needs of BVI people in multilingual settings.

EXPLORATORY SURVEY With a view to bridging the aforementioned research gap, we conducted an exploratory survey to collect data on COVID-19 information access by BVI users in two multilingual countries: Ireland and Spain. The study aimed at understanding their preferences and challenges when attempting to consume content in more than one language. We also sought to give voice to BVI speakers of minority languages in said countries (e.g. Basque or Irish) by providing them with the opportunity to participate in our study using their mother tongue. The ultimate goal of the survey was to inform the definition of a new set of recommendations for the creation of accessible translated and localized material in times of crisis, also grounded in the literature and the authors’ expertise on the matter.

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Methods overview The study was designed for Spanish and Irish BVI people. The targeted users were surveyed through an online questionnaire, administered through LimeSurvey. The questionnaire was made available in six languages, including Basque, Catalan, English, Galician, Irish and Spanish.16 It was assessed for content validity and accessibility prior to its launch, and was open for three weeks in June 2021. The call for participation was published online and distributed via email and social media to the researcher’s networks, as well as local and national OPDs in Spain and Ireland. The questionnaire included thirty-three questions organized around three main blocks of content covering different aspects related to access to information about COVID-19, plus a fourth section on demographics. In line with prior work, the first section aimed at eliciting data about the sources, topics and formats used during the pandemic for information retrieval, as well as their perceived level of accessibility. The second section focused on multilingual information access, including preferences, procedures and reasons for consulting information in more than one language. The last section aimed at understanding the frustration levels and coping strategies of BVI people when faced with five hypothetical scenarios. It was estimated that completing the questionnaire would not take more than fifteen minutes. The study complied with the requirements established by the Ethical Committee of the Faculty of Translation and Interpreting (FTI) at the University of Geneva, Switzerland.

Respondents’ profile A total of forty-seven people accessed the survey, but only fifteen full valid responses were considered for analysis (N=7 male, N=8 female; ages ranging between eighteen and sixty-five). There were eight blind participants (four with total blindness since birth and four who were blind after gradual or sudden loss of vision) and seven respondents with visual impairments: low vision (N=4) and colour blindness (N=3). We received eleven responses from Spanish residents whose mother tongue was Spanish (N=8, two of whom spoke Catalan and Galician as well), Galician (N=1), Catalan (N=1) and Basque (N=1). Some of these participants also reported speaking other languages, including English, French and German. The remaining four participants from Ireland were English native speakers with Irish as a second language. Ten out of fifteen respondents (66.66 per cent) had good Braille reading and typing skills, and all but one reported having mastered the use of ATs in general. TTS software (e.g. screen readers) was used by 80 per cent (N=12) of the respondents; other ATs mentioned included Braille refreshable displays (40 per cent, N=6), speech-to-text software (33.33 per cent, N=5) and screen magnifiers (26.67 per cent, N=4).

MAIN FINDINGS General insights While the sample obtained was relatively small, answers received contributed to obtaining a first snapshot of the attitudes of the FUNCALD community with regard to the accessibility of crisis information in a multilingual context.

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As far as type of content, sources and formats is concerned, our findings align with those from prior work. More than 65 per cent of the respondents seemed to prefer to consult information about the current state of the pandemic (COVID-19 infection rates, vaccination etc.), as well as shopping and business matters, rather than reading about the impact of COVID-19 in the long term. All fifteen BVI individuals pointed to governmental websites as the main source of information, followed by social media (60 per cent, N=9), websites of health-related institutions such as WHO (53.33 per cent, N=8) and their inner circle (family and friends, >50 per cent). They all claimed that their choice of sources was mainly motivated by their trustworthiness, as well as the availability of up-to-date materials (80 per cent, N=12), and accessible and clear information (46.67 per cent, N=7). Preferred formats included audio (radio, TV) (93.33 per cent, N=14), digital web text (73.33 per cent, N=11) and digital tables (40 per cent, N=6). Tactile graphics or text in Braille were not among the options chosen, which makes sense given the pandemic hygienic measures imposed. About 60 per cent (N=9) of the respondents reported feeling well or very well informed during the health crisis, while the rest believed they were either more or less informed (26.67 per cent, N=4) or not informed enough (13.33 per cent, N=2). Paradoxically, 40 per cent (N=6) of the people surveyed felt that they did not have the same level of access to COVID-19 information as other non-disabled peers. When asked why they believed so, some acknowledged having felt excluded in social media due to the non-accessibility of graphic content; others pointed to the frustration experienced when finding inaccessible PDFs on governmental websites. Figure 13.2 shows the accessibility level of four different communication channels according to the survey participants’ first-hand experiences during the pandemic. Here again, in line with previous studies, BVI individuals agreed that only up to 20 per cent of the visual, PDF and printed material consulted was fully accessible.

FIGURE 13.2  Level of accessibility of different communication channels according to BVI.

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Multilingual access Out of the fifteen BVI users who took part in the study, ten indicated that they understood at least one language other than their mother tongue. Four of them openly said that, despite their multiple language skills, they had only consulted COVID-19 information in one language. Interestingly, two Irish speakers reported that they preferred to check resources in English: while R01 argued that his decision was motivated by the fact that he could perfectly understand spoken Irish but was not confident with written Irish, R04 showed a certain level of frustration when explaining that no speech synthesizer was currently available for the Irish language. In the case of the six BVI people who checked resources in more than one language, they all stated that at least 50 per cent of them were read in their mother tongue. The procedure adopted was as follows: first they would try to locate information in their first language, and, if it was not available, they would try with the second one. Some respondents acknowledged that, occasionally, their choice of language depended on the source consulted, as they knew in advance which sources offered information in their main language and which ones did not. Other reasons mentioned to have motivated their choice of language were the following: ‘I was more confident that I would understand all the information if I read it in my mother tongue (N=3, 20 per cent), ‘I have more trust in sources that use one language over another’ (N=2, 13.33 per cent) and sentimental reasons (N=2, 13.33 per cent). The Basque native speaker indicated as well that there was more information in Spanish or English than in Basque, hence his choice. In the survey we also presented respondents with five hypothetical scenarios in which they would face different information barriers and asked them to (1) rate how frustrated they would feel on a scale from 1 to 4, where 1=Not frustrated at all and 4=Very frustrated, and (2) what they would do in such cases: ●●

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Scenario 1: You reach a website on which a PDF with important COVID-19 information is available in your mother tongue and in another language that you also understand. Only the PDF available in your second language is fully accessible. Scenario 2: The government of a multilingual country (e.g. Ireland and Spain) decides to publish accessible COVID-19 information only in the main language of the country (i.e. English and Spanish, respectively). Scenario 3: The local newspaper that you regularly follow on social media is posting tweets about the recent spread of COVID-19 in your area and inaccessible graphs are used. Scenario 4: A source that you trust just published COVID-19 information in your language. The format is technically accessible, but your assistive technology does not support that language (e.g. Irish or Basque). Scenario 5: The website of the local health authorities in your town/city is multilingual: that is, there are different language versions to browse. When you try to look for your language version, you cannot properly use the language selector.

Figure 13.3 is quite revealing in several ways. Data retrieved for Scenarios 1 and 2 shows inconclusive results, so further investigations would be needed. In terms of

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FIGURE 13.3  Level of frustration felt by BVI users in five hypothetical scenarios where information access barriers exist.

reactions to Scenario 1, opinions were mostly divided between changing the source consulted and reading the information in the second language. In the case of Scenario 2, reactions varied, ranging from resignation (N=4), contacting the content owner (N=4) or checking a different source. One respondent also suggested that he could attempt to make it accessible himself, as he had the necessary knowledge to do so. Overall, results suggest a certain degree of tolerance for consulting sources in languages other than the mother tongue, when needed, despite not being the first preference. Similarly, we can observe that respondents were consistent across the survey when condemning the inaccessibility of visual content posted on social media (Scenario 3). The most popular coping strategy in this situation was to look for equivalent textual information and, at the same time, reporting the issue both publicly and privately by contacting the content owner. Over 70 per cent said they would be frustrated or very frustrated if Scenario 4 were to happen. Among the solutions proposed, it is worth highlighting that five people agreed that they would read the content using a different voice in their TTS software, four mentioned that they would report it to the technology provider and then look for the information in another language, and two indicated that they would try to use machine translation to be able to access the content. Interestingly, one participant mentioned that he would rely on MT to access the desired information in Scenario 5. Other proposals included contacting the webmaster to file a complaint or request a direct link to the information needed, or finding a workaround to locate it – for example, by guessing the URL of the localised version or making a more advanced query in the search engine. All in all, it appears that a common view among participants was that, despite individual preferences and habits, the user experience of a blind or visually impaired individual when switching between resources in different languages can benefit from further improvements.

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DISCUSSION AND PRACTICAL RECOMMENDATIONS In the same way that O’Brien and Federici (2020: 130) propose ‘a shift of focus towards considering language translation as part of disaster prevention and management’, we contend that embedding accessibility best practices therein is key to a fully inclusive response during a state of emergency. As has been previously showcased, in crisis scenarios there is a tendency towards the creation of infographics (in image or PDF formats) and other visual materials to reach wider audiences in an effective, quick and instructive manner. Yet, our findings, which are in line with prior work discussed above, reinforce that this type of content still poses barriers for the BVI community. More specifically, our work revealed that multilingual screen reader users can be considerably resourceful, demonstrating a variety of coping strategies to overcome accessibility issues, such as the use of a synthesizer voice different from the language of the text being read, as well as advanced technical and documentation abilities. These findings also support conclusions reached in existing literature (Rodríguez Vázquez, 2015). While accessing content in the users’ second language was accepted as a solution when there was no other choice, relying on the community itself to come up with a workaround when faced with a major crisis cannot be considered an acceptable solution. Furthermore, respondents clearly showed a preference for the use of materials in their mother tongue, as it increased confidence and trust levels – a crucial aspect in times of crises for PwD (Siu et al., 2021). This could be seen as an additional argument in favour of the efforts being made in recent years to create informed translation policies for emergency situations. Last, but not least, a theme that recurred throughout our investigation and that, to the best of our knowledge, had not been previously highlighted in the literature was the lack of support for certain languages by screen readers, such as the case of Irish. The latter means that, even if we find solutions for the challenges outlined above with regard to multilingual digital accessibility, research efforts would still be needed in the AT field if we are to guarantee equal information access for all. Taking into account the evidence presented thus far, it would be pertinent to explore whether accessibility recommendations by OPDs and international organizations could be merged with others more oriented towards multilingual communication management in times of crisis – such as the ones proposed in O’Brien, Cadwell and Zajdel (2021) – in order to create guidance for commissioners and providers of multilingual content in emergency scenarios. A first attempt that could serve as the foundation for further research is presented below: 1. Translation and localization teams should coordinate efforts with accessibility masters, if any. Contact details of relevant stakeholders should be made available in preparedness stages to everyone involved, should questions arise. 2. Key resources, including translation and accessibility policies, standards and procedures, as well as reports of accessibility assessments made in source documents, should be centralized for ease of consultation by all stakeholders. i. Reference materials should mention specific techniques and/or best practices on how to render accessible formats such as web, PDF, images, videos and audio. 3. Raise awareness about accessibility issues among translation stakeholders and provide associated trainings.

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4. Prioritize the translation of source digital materials that are already accessible or are expected to be made accessible in the future. i. When possible, prioritize the accessibility and translation of content shared via social media. 5. Provide, translate and simultaneously release content in alternative formats by default, not only special request. This is particularly relevant in cases where the target language is not supported by mainstream AT. 6. During the translation and localization process, ensure that the target product adheres to accessibility best practices followed in the source content. 7. If, during the translation and/or localization process, the source document is found not to be accessible, report it and seek guidance on how to solve the issues identified before moving to the next step in the translation workflow. 8. Conduct user testing with stakeholders from relevant communities once the translated content is ready. i. If this is not an option due to limited resources, perform at least automatic testing with AT and evaluation tools. 9. If a design for all approach is not followed, clearly identify accessible materials as such; do the same if resources have been designed and translated for a particular community. 10. Always provide end users with tools to request support services. Contact forms, FAQ pages and phone lines should be available in the languages in which content is offered.

CONCLUDING NOTES AND FUTURE WORK In this chapter, we highlighted the scarce consideration given to certain forms of multilingual information accessibility during the COVID-19 pandemic, particularly for BVI people, as opposed to others who have received more attention, such as the deaf and hard of hearing (DHH). While the work done by OPDs and BVI users themselves to raise awareness about their communication needs led to important improvements throughout the crisis, joint efforts are still required to create more informed accessible translation and localization procedures. We have also concluded that these procedures must clearly state who is responsible for implementing them and how much money can be allocated for that purpose. Our investigation has contributed to the general body of knowledge by reviewing crisis communication literature from two perspectives (translation and accessibility) and gathering insights from the BVI community. Together with our technical expertise, these data served to identify existing gaps and make a call for more synergies to tackle existing information barriers for FUNCALD communities. By creating a multilingual survey, we have also tried to reach out to BVI speakers of minority languages and have given them the opportunity to express their views. Despite the low response rate and other limitations, our exploratory study shed light on unknown challenges faced by BVI individuals, such as limited support in ATs for some minority languages. The realization that this field is still in its infancy leaves the door open for endless future research opportunities, both product- and process-oriented. For instance, new

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work could look at consulting representatives from all stakeholders, including PwDs, content creators, decision-makers and accessibility experts, to pin down current flaws in accessibility and language policies on crisis response, as well as to invite them to focus groups to jointly define a proposal for relevant recommendations. Further research questions that could be asked include what factors (social, economic, political) may hamper a full design for all approach in the production of multilingual crisis resources and how technologies could help in such an endeavour. Finally, it would be interesting to carry out more corpus studies of crisis-related documents in which both translation and accessibility aspects were annotated and compared.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS We will always be indebted to the fifteen respondents who donated some of their precious time to our study. We would also like to express our gratitude to María Eugenia López and Garhazi Arroyo Olalde for proofreading the Basque version of the survey, as well as to Anna Ros Costals, who reviewed the Catalan version. Finally, we want to thank Dr Dónal Fitzpatrick, who not only contributed to the questionnaire design and its translation into Irish but also provided extremely helpful guidance on the topic of accessibility for BVI people before and during the preparation of this chapter.

NOTES 1. https://www.who.int/news-room/fact-sheets/detail/disability-and-health (accessed 10 June 2021). 2. https://www.internationaldisabilityalliance.org/acessibility-campaign (accessed 10 June 2021). 3. https://worldblindunion.org/blog/2020/05/07/covid-19-call-to-action/ (accessed 10 June 2021). 4. http://www.euroblind.org/corona-virus-crisis-ebu-joins-global-call-accessible-and-inclusiveresponse (accessed 10 June 2021). 5. https://www.cermi.es/es/actualidad/noticias/el-gobierno-garantiza-que-la-app-radar-covidser%C3%A1-%E2%80%9Ctotalmente-accesible%E2%80%9D-para (accessed 10 June 2021). 6. https://www.edf-feph.org/agreement-on-eu-digital-covid-certificate-includes-accessibilityfor-persons-with-disabilities/ (accessed 10 June 2021). 7. https://eur-lex.europa.eu/legal-content/EN/TXT/HTML/?uri=CELEX:32016L2102 (10 June 2021). 8. http://www.irishstatutebook.ie/eli/2020/si/358/made/en/print (accessed 10 June 2021). 9. https://www.boe.es/buscar/act.php?id=BOE-A-2018-12699 (accessed 10 June 2021). 10. Our permission request to include in the present chapter screenshots of the copyright materials available on this website was denied by the Spanish Ministry of Health. Therefore, the web content we are referring to in this section can be consulted online by following the corresponding permanent link on Internet Archive: https://web.archive.org/ web/20210930094756/https://www.mscbs.gob.es/en/profesionales/saludPublica/ccayes/ alertasActual/nCov/ciudadania.htm (accessed 10 February 2022).

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11. ‘Cuatro claves para protegerse de la COVID-19’ – Document published online 4 December 2020 by the Spanish Ministry of Health. Permanent link on the Internet Archive: https://web. archive.org/web/20210930202252/https://www.mscbs.gob.es/en/profesionales/saludPublica/ ccayes/alertasActual/nCov/documentos/COVID19_4_claves.pdf (accessed 10 February 2022). 12. ‘Four key messages to protect you from COVID-19’ – Document published online 4 December 2020 by the Spanish Ministry of Health. Permanent link on the Internet Archive: https://web.archive.org/web/20210928225024/ and https://www.mscbs.gob.es/en/ profesionales/saludPublica/ccayes/alertasActual/nCov/ciudadania/docs/COVID19_4_claves_ EN.pdf (accessed 10 February 2022). 13. E. Goldberg (2020). ‘When coronavirus care gets lost in translation’. The New York Times, April 17. https://www.nytimes.com/2020/04/17/health/covid-coronavirus-medicaltranslators.html (accessed 10 June 2021). 14. G. McCulloch (2020). ‘Covid-19 is history’s biggest translation challenge’. Wired, 31 May. https://www.wired.com/story/covid-language-translation-problem/ (accessed 10 June 2021). 15. http://eval.covid19-mlia.eu/ (accessed 10 June 2021). 16. The questionnaire is available in all the six languages for download in PDF at https://drive. switch.ch/index.php/s/hwVJ5rka9hY3wRc. The call for participation is available at https:// bfc.unige.ch/en/news/calls/survey-accessible-communication-during-covid-19-pandemic/ (accessed 30 June 2021).

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the 4th International Conference Technological Ecosystems for Enhancing Multiculturality (TEEM ’16), 971–8. New York: ACM Press. https://doi.org/10.1145/3012430.3012634. TWB. (2020). ‘COVID-19 translations’. Available online: https://translatorswithoutborders.org/ translations-covid-19/ (accessed 26 September 2021). Uldry, M. and Leenknecht, A. S. (2021). ‘European human rights report issue 5 – 2021: Impact of COVID-19 on persons with disabilities’. In Catherine Naughton (ed.), European Disability Forum. Available online: https://www.edf-feph.org/human-rights-report-2021covid19/ (accessed 26 September 2021). United Nations. (2019). ‘United Nations disability inclusion strategy’. United Nations. Available online: https://www.un.org/en/content/disabilitystrategy/assets/documentation/ UN_Disability_Inclusion_Strategy_english.pdf (accessed 26 September 2021). United Nations. (2020). ‘Policy brief: A disability-inclusive response to COVID-19’. United Nations. Available online: https://www.un.org/sites/un2.un.org/files/sg_policy_brief_on_ persons_with_disabilities_final.pdf (accessed 26 September 2021). Way, A., Haque, R., Xie, G., Gaspari, F., Popović, M. and Poncelas, A. (2020). ‘Rapid development of competitive translation engines for access to multilingual COVID-19 information’. Informatics 7(2): 19. https://doi.org/10.3390/informatics7020019. WHO. (2020). ‘Disability considerations during the COVID-19 outbreak’. World Health Organization (WHO). Available online: https://www.who.int/publications/i/item/WHO2019-nCoV-Disability-2020-1 (accessed 26 September 2021). World Blind Union. (2020a). ‘Amplifying voices: Our lives, our say. Learning from COVID-19 through the experiences of blind and partially sighted persons across the world’. Available online: https://worldblindunion.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/10/Amplifying-Voices-OurLives-Our-Say_WBU-COVID-19-Report-pdf.pdf (accessed 26 September 2021). World Blind Union. (2020b). ‘WBU Call to Action -19 Actions for an Inclusive Covid-19 Response’. May 7. Available online: https://worldblindunion.org/blog/2020/05/07/covid-19call-to-action/ (accessed 26 September 2021). World Federation of the Deafblind. (2020). ‘COVID-19 and Deafblindness: Recommendations on inclusive policies from the global deafblind community’. April 17. Available online: https://www.wfdb.eu/2020/04/17/covid-19-and-deafblindness/ (accessed 26 September 2021). Zhang, J. and Wu, Y. (2020). ‘Providing multilingual logistics communication in COVID-19 Disaster relief’. Multilingua 39(5): 517–28. https://doi.org/10.1515/multi-2020-0110. Zheng, Y. (2020). ‘Mobilizing foreign language students for multilingual crisis translation in Shanghai’. Multilingua 39(5): 587–95. https://doi.org/10.1515/multi20200095.

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Cultural Mediation as a Means of Effective Multilingual Communication MAURA RADICIONI AND LUCÍA RUIZ ROSENDO

INTRODUCTION Recent decades have seen an increase in the number of displaced persons worldwide. According to the United Nations Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR), an estimated 258 million people, approximately three per cent of the world’s population, are currently living outside their country of origin (OHCHR, n.d.). Figures from the United Nations Refugee Agency (UNHCR) show that, at the end of 2020, there were 82.4 million forcibly displaced people worldwide who had had to flee their homes because of conflict and persecution, poverty, lack of access to healthcare, education, water, food, housing and the consequences of environmental degradation and climate change (UNHCR, n.d.). Conflict-driven migration has led to a need for healthcare systems to assist migrants and refugees on the frontline, in those regions that host them in the first instance. Italy has been one of the countries most affected by the arrival of waves of migrants and refugees, and has had to cope with the management of these migratory flows. These successive waves have, so far, been considered emergencies, ‘rather than predictable occurrences based on historical evidence’ (Filmer and Federici, 2018: 230). The COVID-19 pandemic has aggravated what was already an emergency situation, challenging the way in which information is communicated to culturally and linguistically diverse communities whose language needs have to be carefully considered in crisis management (Wang, 2020). The research focus of this chapter is interpreting and cultural mediation in this global public health emergency. Drawing on the results of an ongoing project consisting of a case study on the cultural mediators of the Italian medical NGO Emergency ONG Onlus (henceforth Emergency), this chapter attempts to describe how cultural mediators employed by Emergency made language services accessible to affected migrants and refugees in the crisis response to the pandemic.

INTERPRETING IN CRISIS SITUATIONS Undoubtedly, the COVID-19 pandemic falls within the definition of a crisis, understood as ‘a specific, unexpected, and non-routine… event or series of events which creates high levels of uncertainty and a significant or perceived threat to… high priority goals’

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(Seeger, Sellnow and Ulmer, 2003: 7). Pescaroli and Alexander (2016) also contribute to the definition, identifying the fast evolution of crises as well as their potential to serve as a trigger for other crises elsewhere as additional factors. In this light, Sellnow and Seeger (2013: 13) coined the term ‘crisis communication’ to refer to ‘the ongoing process of creating shared meaning among and between groups, communities, individuals and agencies, within the ecological context of a crisis, for the purpose of preparing for and reducing, limiting and responding to threats and harm’. In crisis settings, mediation, arbitration or humanitarian aid discussions must occasionally take place between parties who do not share the same language or culture. In such cases, individuals such as translators, interpreters and cultural mediators are brought in to help negotiate the multiple languages and cultures and to aid the communication process (Moser-Mercer, Kherbiche and Class, 2014). Reference to interpreting/translation in crisis situations encompasses an array of contexts, ranging from armed conflicts to ‘all forms of communication in extreme conditions, be they conflicts, disasters, emergencies, or crisis’ (Federici, 2016: 2). By the same token, O’Brien (2016) defines crisis translation as a concept linked to emergency management, referring to linguistic mediation, predominantly in writing, that translators undertake with or for specific commissioning bodies. The term is more frequently used in reference to written translation than to oral interpretation. The main characteristic of crisis translation is the ‘underlying narrative of solidarity… in the discourse on crisis communication in emergencies’ (Federici, 2016: 12) that distinguishes it from translation in conflicts. In connection with this point, Federici and Al Sharou (2018) note that, rather than relying on professional translators, crisis translation relies predominantly on volunteers, who provide a service which prevents communication issues from transforming into communication crises. Given that the present study deals with interpreting and cultural mediation in the context of a medical NGO, another relevant definition to consider is that of ‘humanitarian interpreting’, as described by Delgado Luchner and Kherbiche (2018: 423): Humanitarian interpreters work in conflict or post-conflict settings, or amongst populations displaced by conflict; their work environment falls within the legal framework of IHL [International Humanitarian Law] and International Refugee Law; they are exposed to human suffering because of the mandate of the organizations they work for and the settings in which their interpreting services are required: detention visits, interviews with victims of conflict, refugee status determination interviews, etc.; [and] the beneficiaries of their services often fall in the category of ‘protected persons’ according to IHL; humanitarian interpreters play a role in enabling beneficiaries to access their rights. Studies on crisis translation/interpreting are scarce, even if this topic has recently attracted the attention of scholars. Of those studies available in the limited body of work in the field, many focus on translation in the context of a health emergency. O’Brien and Cadwell (2017), in their study on the readability of health-related information in the 2014 Ebola crisis in Kenya, considered a broader perspective on translation, and posit that meaning can be created not only through written words but also through images, icons and sounds. Focusing on Kenyans living in rural and urban areas, the authors assessed the impact of translation on the comprehensibility of information that was presented in an English source text and a Kiswahili target text. They also examined Kenyans’ preferences for the delivery mode of health-related content and found out that the great majority

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preferred the spoken word to the written word for the communication of crisis-related health information, thus concluding that written modes of communication, even in the case of translated texts, might not be the best solution for some countries and cultures. Other authors have also highlighted the need to disseminate health information through other channels, mostly oral, in a crisis situation, especially in order to communicate with vulnerable groups (Henrich and Holmes, 2011). Hadziabdic, Lundin and Hjelm (2015) state that both verbal and non-verbal communication are, indeed, essential for the clear transmission of messages. For his part, Wang (2020), focusing on translation in the COVID-19 emergency in Wuhan, describes the tasks carried out and the challenges encountered by government and external volunteer translators when making language services available to foreign nationals in the response phase. He highlights how harmful the disruptiveness of a crisis may be to foreign nationals and suggests that effective crisis communication is essential to reverse the adverse effects during the preparedness, response and recovery stages. Yet other studies have focused on translation performed after disasters, such as earthquakes (Cadwell, 2019; Munro, 2013), coming to the conclusion that translation is an ad hoc act that facilitates the communication between local responders and affected foreign populations. Fewer are the studies that have focused on medical humanitarian organizations dealing with emergency situations. Montalt (2020) analyses the role of translators and of translation in the context of Doctors Without Borders (MSF) and Translators Without Borders (TWB), examining what medical translation can learn from crisis situations and what it can contribute to improve communication in humanitarian crises. There are also some studies that explore the role of interpreters in humanitarian organisations, such as Delgado Luchner and Kherbiche’s (2018) work on the role of the interpreters in the context of the International Committee for the Red Cross (ICRC) and UNHCR; and studies that examine the role of translators and interpreters in the context of NGOs (see, for example, Tesseur, 2018 and Delgado Luchner and Kherbiche, 2018, who analyse the role of professional and non-professional translators at Amnesty International, and the language practices of Caritas Switzerland and the Fédération genevoise de cooperation, respectively). However, none of them focus on interpreting/cultural mediation in a medical humanitarian NGO, specifically the response given by cultural mediators/interpreters to a health emergency situation. The present study aims to fill this gap and to give further evidence to support the need to provide language services to empower foreign nationals, by describing the activities carried out by cultural mediators working for Emergency in responding to the COVID-19 pandemic and by concluding that interpreting deserves a place in intercultural crisis communication.

THE CONTEXT Emergency ONG Onlus is an independent humanitarian NGO, which was established in 1994 by war surgeon Gino Strada, with the aim to provide free medical and surgical treatment to civilian victims of war, land mines and poverty in war-torn scenarios outside Italy; to give assistance to those in need in Italy; and to promote a culture of peace, solidarity and respect for human rights. Emergency’s mandate is to provide high-quality healthcare, while asserting the right of each individual to receive such treatment free of charge. The NGO is currently running projects in seven countries (Afghanistan, Central African Republic, Iraq, Italy, Sierra Leone, Sudan and Uganda). In Italy, it has been present through its Programma Italia since 2006, running humanitarian projects in areas

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where the basic health and social needs of vulnerable groups of both Italians and migrants are not met (Bellardinelli, 2017). Through the support of cultural mediators (Emergency, 2020a), patients are provided with free healthcare, nursing, psychological support and social and health-related guidance services. The latest official figures published on the organization’s website1 show that, as of December 2020, Emergency has provided nearly 430,000 free-of-charge consultations to individuals who would otherwise have had no access to medical care in Italy. The NGO’s healthcare and socio-cultural orientation services are provided in both outpatient clinics and mobile clinics (known as Polibuses and Politrucks). As of December 2020, outpatient clinics are run in Palermo, Marghera, Sassari, Polistena (Emergency, 2020c), Castel Volturno, Naples and Brescia. Mobile clinics travel to areas where services are scarce and healthcare facilities absent, such as agricultural areas, marginalized urban districts, areas hit by disasters and refugee reception centres. There is one mobile clinic in the central Italian regions of Abruzzo, Marche, Umbria and Lazio, hit by the 2016 earthquakes, and the others are located in highly degraded and marginalized areas in the provinces of Caserta and Latina in southern Italy. So far, mobile clinics have brought medical assistance to people living in deprived neighbourhoods of Milan, provided sexual health information for sex workers in Castel Volturno, helped migrants and refugees landing in Sicily, supported the large community of agricultural workers in Latina and aided people affected by earthquakes in the centre of the country. Information desks are also active in Brescia and Palermo: they provide mediation and social and health assistance to foreigners without legal residence permits. At these information desks, cultural mediators assist foreign citizens and people in need with information on proper access to care and accompany them to public offices facilities, helping them overcome the linguistic, cultural and logistical barriers that prevent or obstruct access to care.

CULTURAL MEDIATORS WORKING FOR PROGRAMMA ITALIA Within the context of the Programma Italia activities, Emergency resorts to cultural mediators, hired to carry out language and cultural mediation, as well as health and social service orientation. The NGO refers to them as mediatori culturali (cultural mediators): the phrase, which, incidentally, is also used by Emergency in their job descriptions, highlights the importance the NGO and the mediators attach to their role of cultural brokers compared to their language mediation activity. Interestingly, interpreting is never mentioned among the duties and responsibilities that successful applicants are expected to carry out in Emergency’s outpatient and mobile clinics in Italy. However, specific mention is made of cultural mediation in several instances, with the main duties and responsibilities of applicants including, inter alia, linguistic and cultural mediation in compiling medical files and linguistic and cultural mediation prior to and during medical examination. Even if not explicitly mentioned in the job requirements, cultural mediation is viewed as more relevant than language mediation, as has been expressed by the health professionals and cultural mediators working for Programma Italia. All the mediators working for Emergency are staff members. No job positions as cultural mediators are offered for projects outside Italy, as language needs in war-torn and humanitarian contexts in other countries are often addressed by using a lingua franca or through bilingual personnel serving as ad hoc brokers.2

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The tasks performed by Emergency’s cultural mediators in the outpatient and mobile clinics on Italian soil are well described by the job description published on the organization’s website.3 The job description states the same requirements in terms of skills and duties to be met in all outpatient and mobile clinics. Differences between individual job advertisements depend on the location where the cultural mediator is to be employed and mainly refer to language requirements, which vary depending on the different ethnic groups targeted by the clinic concerned (Italian, English and French are generally required, whereas Arabic, Romanian and some African languages and dialects are needed in a number of cases). Although relevant experience appears to be a necessary requirement in the social and health sectors, it is deemed less essential for language mediation. According to the job description, the position requires both specific skills relevant to the professional role in question (for instance, to match the needs of migrants with health and social services available in the area where they live) and a good knowledge of Italy’s healthcare and social service facilities. Other requirements include flexibility and a cooperative problem-solving approach, with the ultimate aim of finding the best way to help people access the care or assistance they need. To achieve this goal, cultural mediators are expected to mediate between patients and healthcare providers, as well as to liaise with local authorities, regional associations and the facilities of the National Health Service. Candidates are expected to provide cultural mediation in carrying out duties, such as welcoming patients and/or health and social service users; proposing treatment options and provision of healthcare education, where necessary and always in agreement with the doctor (where present); accompanying patients in need of hospital treatment and offering assistance with reception and admissions procedures; and performing health and social service orientation activities (for example, creating individual integration plans aimed at helping people integrate into the region, advising on regulations and rights regarding health or residency issues, cooperating with regional public and civil services, such as registry offices and health service registration, migrant services, police stations, prefectures etc.). In this respect, Emergency’s cultural mediators carry out several tasks and take on different roles. They amount to the model of the mediator as a ‘bridging figure’, following which the cultural mediator ‘is given a great deal of responsibility – his/ her mandate is not only to help the interlocutors avoid misunderstandings and anticipate areas of conflict, but also to construct, no less, a shared basis or cultural-cognitive platform between the interlocutors by facilitating comprehension and reciprocal understanding/ agreement’ (Rudvin and Tomassini, 2008: 246). This variety of tasks coincides with the results of Filmer and Federici’s (2018) study, according to which language brokers perform tasks that include translation, interpreting, social service and advocacy, without necessarily having received training in any of these areas.

The study This chapter originates from a qualitative and ethnographically oriented case study, which aims to answer two research questions: first, what is the context in which interpreters and cultural mediators work within the humanitarian operations run by Emergency in a migration-intense area of Italy? And, second, what is the impact of said context on the work carried out by the NGO’s cultural mediators? The decision to investigate the cultural mediators, and not the interpreters, hired by Emergency is directly linked to the professional profiles that the organization hires to facilitate its operations. When

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hiring, the term the NGO uses to refer to its language professionals is mediatori culturali (cultural mediators), and not interpreti (interpreters). At Emergency, cultural mediators are employed only within the context of its Programma Italia and they are referred to in this way, and not as interpreters, to highlight the greater importance the NGO and the mediators themselves attach to their role as cultural brokers compared to their language mediation activity. The phrase mediatori culturali is the only one used by the organization to refer to its language and cultural brokers and indicated in the job descriptions for such positions. The decision to opt for case study research lies in the fact that the translation phenomenon investigated is unique from various standpoints. According to Yin (2018: 15), a case study is ‘an empirical method that… investigates a contemporary phenomenon (the “case”) in depth and within its real-world context, especially when… the boundaries between phenomenon and context may not be clearly evident’. Case study methodology is used to highlight numerous unique and distinctive elements of the research carried out: the unique context of Castel Volturno, which is a unicum in Italy with its migration scenario, locally widespread network of informal and illegal activities, illegal housing, urban degradation, environmental pollution and organized crime; the unique role played by Emergency’s cultural mediators performing medical and social interpreting and mediation activities in the complex humanitarian setting of Castel Volturno; the unique role played by a humanitarian medical NGO active in a challenging environment; the unique nature of the COVID-19 health emergency; and the unique combination of all these factors. For the purposes of this chapter, however, a broader perspective that looks at the whole of Programma Italia has been adopted, with the aim of investigating the language and mediation practices in terms of crisis communication adopted by Emergency’s cultural mediators in times of COVID-19. Participants were recruited with the support of Programma Italia’s coordinator and secretariat. After receiving a positive reply to a preliminary enquiry, the site of the ethnography was selected. The outpatient clinic in Castel Volturno was chosen due to the large numbers of migrants in the area and the higher likelihood that the cultural mediators working at this outpatient clinic perform a significant number of language and cultural mediation activities in both dyadic and triadic encounters. Participants included both the mediators currently employed at the clinic and former employees who are currently involved in the NGO’s other projects, with no exclusion criteria applied. The latter currently serve in cross-cutting positions across Programma Italia, for example, programme management or recent IT activities for the development of a health database of all patients applying to the programme’s mobile units and outpatient clinics. Given the wide range of functions and projects covered, participants in the study are deemed to be representative of the crisis communication strategy adopted by Emergency’s cultural mediators in times of COVID-19. Data were collected from participants in different ways and at various moments.4,5 At the beginning of the project (spring 2018), there was an exchange of emails and telephone conversations between the researcher, the coordinator of outpatient clinic, who is himself a cultural mediator, and the other cultural mediators. In October–November 2018, the study participants responded to written semi-structured interviews with the aim of exploring a number of preliminary issues that had emerged during the previous email and telephone exchange. One of these issues was the role of cultural differences in interpreter-mediated encounters at the outpatient clinic. In August 2019 the researcher paid a preliminary visit to the facility, specifically to become familiar with the context, thereby preparing and paving the way for the subsequent ethnographic field observations.

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Unstructured video interviews were carried out between July and November 2020. An additional video interview was conducted with Emergency’s HR manager in February 2021. Interviews with study participants were initially supposed to be conducted during observational periods at the clinic scheduled in the course of 2020; however, these were not possible due to the COVID-19 health emergency. This forced a revision of the research design and led to the choice of video interviews as an appropriate data collection tool. The results presented here have been obtained mainly from the video interviews carried out in 2020, although they should be framed within the broader context of activities carried out by Programma Italia cultural mediators. From a methodological viewpoint, the decision to carry out recorded video interviews was taken in order to enhance the level of detail of the verbal information provided by participants as well as to partly offset the lack of visual elements that would have been obtained from field observations. As Heinrichsmeier (2019: 179) points out, video recordings can increasingly help cast light on encounters characterized by a detailed analysis of interaction, as they ‘allow the fine detail of multimodal aspects of interaction to be explored’. Seven cultural mediators (four male, three female) who are still working or have worked at the Castel Volturno (CV) outpatient clinic were interviewed. Before the outbreak of the COVID-19 pandemic, four cultural mediators were working at the clinic: two Italian males, one Nigerian female and one Romanian female. The fifth interviewee used to work in CV from 2013 to 2017 and currently serves as Programma Italia’s deputy coordinator. The sixth participant is an Italian female, who used to work in CV in 2015 and 2016 and is now active at the Milan headquarters of the NGO. The seventh cultural mediator is originally from Senegal: before working in Polistena, Reggio Calabria, he was active as a cultural mediator in CV from December 2012 to the whole of 2013. The seven interviewees were aged between thirty-eight and fifty.

Responding to the COVID-19 crisis All the mediators have different backgrounds and qualifications in areas other than language mediation or translation/interpreting (political science, economics, cultural heritage) and have previously worked for other NGOs (MSF and Save the Children, local NGOs), the public sector (local health companies, prisons, etc.) or international organizations. They speak Italian, English, French, Romanian and a number of Nigerian languages (Esan, Bini as well as Pidgin English). Their duties include welcoming patients and/or health and social services users, providing them with language and cultural mediation in compiling medical files, providing them with language and cultural mediation prior to and during the medical examination, providing healthcare education where necessary, accompanying patients who need hospital treatment and assisting them with admission procedures in public hospitals, accompanying patients to public authorities to assist them with legal and administrative issues, carrying out health and social service orientation activities, supporting the computerized management of data and, if necessary, contributing to the management of certain administrative or logistical aspects of the project. Different and/ or additional tasks are always context-dependent, agreed upon with the Milan-based Programma Italia secretariat of Emergency and implemented accordingly. Marking a watershed in the NGO’s activities and purpose, the outbreak of the COVID-19 health emergency imposed a reorganization of the activities normally conducted by cultural mediators. The specific tasks they normally perform, as detailed

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above, had to be adapted to the new circumstances, with the aim of allowing cultural mediators to continue providing healthcare and social orientation to migrants, while at the same time safeguarding themselves and the patients. This has been clearly shown by what one of the interviewees told us: ‘Programma Italia’s activities for the provision of general medicine, nursing and psychological support services, both face-to-face and…  remote, have not been interrupted since the outbreak of the pandemic. But we had to reorganize all the activities normally carried out at our outpatient clinics and implement specific COVID-19 protocols and protective measures.’ Interestingly, the cultural mediators interviewed in the present study consider themselves first and foremost as aid workers and refer to themselves as such. Delgado Luchner and Kherbiche’s (2018) definition of humanitarian interpreting perfectly applies here, and Emergency’s response to the COVID-19 crisis in terms of language communication and mediation is an example of a humanitarian interpreting context. In fact, according to these authors’ definition of humanitarian interpreting, Emergency’s cultural mediators can be considered as aid workers as they help beneficiaries to access their rights – in this case, the right to health and the right to receive the correct information to protect themselves against a pandemic. Emergency placed itself at the disposal of national and local health authorities to manage the coronavirus outbreak (Emergency, 2020b), sharing with them the experience it had garnered from treating patients with Ebola in Sierra Leone in 2014 and 2015. This has enabled the organization to launch new activities and initiatives, while continuing to provide its traditional services in a different way. In the circumstances created by COVID-19, there was a need for a different approach and an enhanced focus on communication, and cultural mediators were central to this new approach. Especially in complex humanitarian scenarios with a high percentage of foreigners, it should not be taken for granted that migrants who have been living in Italy for only a short period of time will be able to correctly understand and implement COVID-19 protective measures. This is even more relevant in the case of migrants in challenging settings, like Castel Volturno, where numerous foreigners live in poverty and precarious dwellings. These are the main reasons why Emergency launched a communication campaign as soon as the pandemic broke out, which aimed to dispel the fake news that had started circulating about the disease within the local population and implement an orientation service they could refer to, as one interviewee explained: In order to face the [health] emergency in Castel Volturno, we immediately felt that an effective [COVID-19] strategy needed to be accompanied by the right information on the right communication channels. Our biggest concern was that people did not have any access to correct, easily understood information due to language barriers, but also to the large amount of fake news that had already started to circulate within the migrant community. Another major concern was related to the need to convince people to stay at home and leave their homes only if strictly necessary, for instance, to undergo health checks, and, in any case, to be cautious in the selection of their mode of transportation. Mobility can be a significant risk factor in Castel Volturno, as most migrants do not have cars of their own and use collective means of transportation, within which not everybody wears a facemask, social distancing is not always guaranteed and there is often no sanitization.

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Providing correct information about all the challenges described above and through various communication channels was, therefore, deemed the core of an effective communication strategy. Emergency’s cultural mediators have played a pivotal role in said strategy, which was implemented through various actions. Decisions were, at times, taken centrally and implemented locally, as was the case with the triage facilities set up in front of almost all Programma Italia outpatient clinics to provide patients with COVID-19-related information and direct them to the most appropriate local health companies and hospitals. In several instances, cultural mediators were in charge of said triage facilities, alone or with a nurse, following Emergency’s strategic decision to send health personnel from outpatient clinics to areas less affected by the pandemic in order to reinforce the staff of projects in the areas of greatest need, especially in the north of Italy. Other initiatives and new activities, always involving cultural mediators, were the result of a bottom-up approach: they were first tested within a given local project and, after being considered to be potentially effective for other Programma Italia projects, they were adopted at other outpatient clinics and mobile units. In these cases, central decisions were prompted by local good practices that had developed from the initiatives of local staff, especially cultural mediators, after a thorough consideration of the context and the local communication needs. This was the case, for example, for the communication initiatives implemented in Castel Volturno, one of which involved the creation of WhatsApp groups to communicate with patients in an easy and immediate way. As early as May 2020, nearly 600 contacts were receiving these messages, with about 3,000 text and WhatsApp messages sent to patients registered in the outpatient clinic database. WhatsApp messages were used in Castel Volturno alone (not in other Programma Italia projects), and were drafted directly in English and Pidgin English by the outpatient clinic’s cultural mediators. The WhatsApp groups were also used to disseminate the links to six Facebook meetings jointly organized between Emergency’s Castel Volturno outpatient clinic and the local Caritas and the Movement for Migrants and Refugees in Caserta, which aimed to inform migrants about the health risks posed by the pandemic. The Facebook meetings were organized in the form of webinars, which saw the participation of cultural mediators working for all three organizations. The mediators addressed their audience in English, Pidgin English, French and the Ghanaian dialect Twi. Additionally, a call centre dealing with social- and health-related issues was set up and received hundreds of calls, especially in the first weeks of April 2020. The targeted text and WhatsApp messages were sent to vulnerable groups among the population, above all migrants, informing them about safety and social distancing rules, behavioural norms to observe as regards mobility and the need to stay at home, and referring them to the competent public health services. As one interviewee explained: Our patients have received support over the phone, with WhatsApp, to solve their problems. We have made lists of our patients and their numbers from our registry. We sent messages through WhatsApp to tell them not to come to the clinic. If they had problems, we asked them to tell us what it was on the phone, then contacted the doctor, and if there were issues that could be solved over the phone, for instance, drugs or tests to prescribe, that was the preferred way, over the phone; we did not send them to the doctor. Everything has taken place through WhatsApp, if needed we would go to the doctor or to the office on their behalf, but we would not send them directly there. Most of them don’t have a car, they have to use public transport and most of it is informal along the Domiziana road, there is no social distancing, and

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few people wear a facemask. Transport can be a serious risk factor, so we sent them messages to offer that we try to solve the issue over the phone, if and when possible. One extremely effective communication initiative was a video in English, which was produced by the Castel Volturno clinic’s cultural mediators with the aim of providing correct information to non-Italian speakers and ensuring the maintenance of minimum safety standards. Cultural mediators opted for Pidgin English, as their main objective was to reach as many people as possible and this lingua franca is spoken and understood by the two largest communities present in Castel Volturno, namely the Nigerian and Ghanaian communities. The use of a lingua franca is, indeed, widespread in the interactions between migrants and cultural mediators who facilitate communication in a wide range of contexts involving migrants and asylum seekers in Italy, as its hybrid nature seems to embed the specific key skills that cultural mediators in Italy are required to have, such as intercultural awareness of culture-specific beliefs and values, interpersonal sensitivity and cognitive sensitivity. It also enables them to employ various accommodation strategies and processes of cooperation and to attain their communication goals (Taviano, 2021). The video was disseminated on both YouTube and Facebook, where it was viewed thousands of times. It was, furthermore, shown by various social groups managed by Nigerian communities living in Italy and by other communication channels, including WhatsApp. As one interviewee explained: We made this video to give as much information as possible, and we decided that I personally record it in Pidgin English. Because, you know, we [in Nigeria] have a very different culture, migrants from Nigeria tend to trust me more because I come from the same place as them. So, with my face, that as black as theirs, and with Pidgin English we thought we could reach and persuade more people [in Castel Volturno]. The fact that the video recorded in Pidgin English was such a useful tool confirms what O’Brien and Cadwell (2017) posit in their study, when they say that meaning can be created not only through written words but also through images, icons and sounds. Furthermore, the activities implemented locally, such as the video recording and the creation of a WhatsApp distribution list, confirm the existence of a community of practice. The communication initiatives developed in Castel Volturno and adopted elsewhere are a good example of communication that started locally within a community of practice and was then adopted at higher levels. The triage facilities set up outside the outpatient clinic and the communication campaign based on the video and the WhatsApp messages have proven to be effective. In the words of the Castel Volturno clinic coordinator: In the video we recommend that they stay home and leave their place only if they have a regular job, and that they should not go out and look for a daily job at the roundabouts, as they normally do. And we tell them whom to contact in case of severe health problems, or that they should call an ambulance… The messages, and especially the video, helped a lot. During the first lockdown twelve cases were registered in Castel Volturno, all among Italians. Migrants listened, they followed the rules, you wouldn’t see them on the main streets… Before the pandemic broke

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out we had an average of about fifty patients accessing the clinic every day, now the figure has gone down to five. The practices trialled in Castel Volturno were considered to be potentially effective for other Programma Italia projects and were, subsequently, adopted at other outpatient clinics and mobile units. The example of the video, produced on the initiative of Castel Volturno’s cultural mediators and filmed in Pidgin English, was soon followed by Emergency’s headquarters, which had it translated into Italian and paved the way for videos in other languages (Punjabi, Wolof, French, Bengali, Russian, Arabic and Romanian, besides Pidgin English) that were adopted at other outpatient clinics and mobile units. Communicating to vulnerable groups, including migrants, and informing them about safety and social distancing rules, and general behavioural norms to observe during a pandemic, can be extremely challenging if the target groups live in poverty and informal dwellings. This was one of the most acute needs in the plains of Gioia Tauro, Calabria, where several thousand agricultural labourers work. Most of them are in Italy illegally, and come from a number of African countries, such as Ghana, Gambia, Ivory Coast, Burkina Faso, Senegal, Mali, Niger and Nigeria. Health and hygiene standards are extremely challenging in areas of Italy where such issues of poverty and informal dwellings abound, for instance, in facilities like the tent camp of San Ferdinando, where about 400 people live. Emergency’s mobile unit, departing from the outpatient clinic in Polistena, Reggio Calabria, travels to the camp twice a week to provide free care and social orientation to migrants in need. Emergency’s team consists of health professionals and one or two cultural mediators, who have proven to be an extremely valuable resource to communicate the correct protective measures in times of COVID-19. Furthermore, in November and December 2020, Emergency’s outpatient clinic in Polistena implemented a rapid swab service for the most vulnerable groups in the area, including migrants, who were considered most at risk of infection. The service, which was provided at the request of the local municipal council, foresaw the administration of rapid antigenic swabs at a drive-in tent set up for the purpose, where Emergency health professionals gave medical and nursing support, and cultural mediators provided information and orientation to migrants. As one interviewee explained, ‘Cultural mediators are central to our work, for example in Calabria, Polistena. They are our means to communicate with the migrants at the [San Ferdinando] camp, they used to do that before and they do even more so in today’s difficult times’. Cultural mediators have been pivotal in the provision of communication and language support at various levels. This has been confirmed by the HR manager of the NGO, who stated that, although the organization has not hired additional cultural mediators during the pandemic, it found itself forced to undertake a sudden and thorough revision of its activities and a reassignment of tasks to its human resources. Several members of staff were reassigned to different projects in order to meet both internal needs and the needs of those institutions, prompting the NGO to activate specific protocols for the creation of triage areas. In this way, Emergency helped hospitals and reception centres to manage the pandemic through the revised protocols it had originally developed in 2014 and 2015 in the treatment of Ebola patients. In this reorganization process, cultural mediators proved their flexibility and versatility in taking on new roles and envisaging new actions and initiatives to communicate with foreign patients.

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CONCLUDING REMARKS In this chapter, we have tried to describe how, within the framework of Emergency’s crisis response to the COVID-19 pandemic, the cultural mediators employed by the NGO made its healthcare and social orientation services accessible to affected migrants and refugees through new and innovative forms of language and cultural mediation. We have tried to highlight the need to provide language, mediation and communication services to empower foreign nationals through a study which aims to fill an existing gap in the field of interpreting and cultural mediation in the context of humanitarian crises. We consider that both interpreting and cultural mediation deserve a place in intercultural crisis communication. While our research has been conceived as a case study, which, by its very nature, entails the study of a limited sample, the inclusion of cultural mediators employed both in the setting investigated and in other Programma Italia projects and covering different functions has helped us widen the scope of the study and gain a broader understanding of Emergency’s overall language, mediation and communication response to the COVID-19 pandemic. The findings take us away from the image of the interpreter with clear objectives, tasks and ways to accomplish those tasks. The outbreak of the pandemic resulted in a transformation in the workplace and generated new working situations in which nobody knew exactly what had to be done and how to react, in turn opening up a field of challenges for practical redesign. Although studies have shown that crisis translation (and communication) normally relies on ad hoc non-professional translators and volunteers, at the NGO investigated such tasks have been carried out by cultural mediators who are actually members of staff. This means that they worked for the organization before the outbreak of the health crisis, and were, consequently, used to the context, acquainted with the foreign populations and aware of these populations’ endemic needs. Even though they have not been formally trained as interpreters or cultural mediators, Emergency’s cultural mediators represent a professional profile that the NGO heavily relies on: thanks to their flexibility and adaptability, and to the skills that they have previously learnt on the job, they are considered pivotal in almost all of its communication activities. In addition, when recruiting cultural mediators, Emergency tends to rely heavily on a ‘word-of-mouth’ communication system, and the fact that the candidate has undergone the same migration trajectory is an asset that is taken into account to generate trust with the migrants and refugees, trust being considered by the NGO to be even more important than accurate language or interpreting skills. Trust is indeed a vital component of communication with the public during a disaster or other emergency, and effective risk communication cannot take place if trust is lacking (Cadwell, 2015: 18). Furthermore, ‘information needs to be prepared and disseminated. To be useful, it must be accurate and trusted and it must be understood and used by the community’ (Coyle and Meier, 2009: 17–18). In the study carried out, the cultural mediators’ positionality helped them to be trusted by the foreign populations who followed their instructions. This trust was essential for the success of the activities carried out to respond to the emergency situation, such as the recording of the video. As Cadwell (2019: 167) points out, ‘pre-existing personal bonds may be important considerations for generating trusted information through crisis translation’. Such personal bonds had already been established, since the cultural mediators had already worked for Emergency and were acquainted with migrants and refugees. This made communication easier, because the patients trusted the cultural mediators, particularly those who came from the same communities as them and shared

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the same culture. A shared cultural background has, indeed, proven to be paramount as, according to Todorova (2016, 2020), culturally knowledgeable and culturally competent language brokers can help explain and overcome cultural differences and, in so doing, establish a sense of trust and strive towards a mutually acceptable solution. In the case concerned, said sense of trust was the pre-requisite for the mutually acceptable solution of guaranteeing effective crisis communication in the COVID-19 crisis. The limitations of the present study must be acknowledged. Due to the fact that the research was conceived as a case study, a limited number of participants were interviewed. Even if our objective is not to make generalizations but, rather, to put forward some claims regarding the role of Emergency cultural mediators in the context of the COVID-19 pandemic, in future studies more participants working in other mobile and outpatient clinics could be interviewed. Interviews could go hand in hand with a direct observation of the cultural mediators in their daily practice, something that was not possible to do in the context of this study because of the measures taken after the outbreak of the pandemic.

NOTES 1. Emergency. 2020. ‘Cosa facciamo. Italia’. Available online: https://www.emergency.it/cosafacciamo/italia/ (accessed 15 June 2021). 2. The information was provided by the Programma Italia secretariat and confirmed by Emergency’s HR Department. This information can also be retrieved from the webpages on current vacancies and cultural mediators’ job profile, the link to which has been provided in note 3. 3. Emergency. 2020. ‘Cultural Mediator’. Available online: https://en.emergency.it/jobdescriptions/cultural-mediator (accessed 15 June 2021). 4. The information was provided by the Programma Italia secretariat and confirmed by Emergency’s HR Department. This information can also be retrieved from the webpages on current vacancies and cultural mediators’ job profile, the link to which has been provided in note 3. 5. Considering the nature of the qualitative study described and the ethical challenges it poses, prior to data collection the project was authorized by the Ethics Committee of the University of Geneva.

REFERENCES Bellardinelli, A. (2017). ‘Le attività di Emergency “Programma Italia” rivolte ai migranti e persone in stato di bisogno’. In M. I. Macioti (ed.), Conflitti, guerre civili, vittime e diritto internazionale [Conflicts, Civil Wars, and International Law], 76–83. Rome: Mediascape/ Edizioni ANRP. Cadwell, P. (2015). Translation and Trust: A Case Study of How Translation Was Experienced by Foreign Nationals Resident in Japan for the 2011 Great East Japan Earthquake. PhD diss., Dublin City University. Cadwell, P. (2019). ‘Trust, distrust and translation in a disaster’. Disaster Prevention and Management 29(2): 157–74. Coyle, D. and Meier, P. (2009). New Technologies in Emergencies and Conflicts: The Role of Information and Social Networks. Washington, DC and London, UK: UN FoundationVodafone Foundation Partnership.

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Delgado Luchner, C. and Kherbiche, L. (2018). ‘Without fear or favour? The positionality of ICRC and UNHCR interpreters in the humanitarian field’. Target 30(3): 408–29. Emergency. (2020a). ‘Cultural mediator’. Available online: https://en.emergency.it/jobdescriptions/cultural-mediator (accessed 13 June 2021). Emergency (2020b). ‘Emergency Covid-19 outbreak’. Available online: https://en.emergency.it/ what-we-do/covid-19-outbreak (accessed 13 June 2021). Emergency (2020c). ‘Polistena outpatient clinic’. Available online: https://en.emergency.it/ projects/italy-polistena-clinic (accessed 13 June 2021). Federici, F. M. (ed.) (2016). Mediating Emergencies and Conflicts. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Federici, F. M. and Al Sharou, K. (2018). ‘Moses, time and crisis translation’. Translation and Interpreting Studies 13(3): 486–508. Filmer, D. and Federici, F. M. (2018). ‘Mediating migration crises: Sicily and the languages of despair’. European Journal of Language Policy 10(2): 229–53. Hadziabdic, E., Lundin, C. and Hjelm, K. (2015). ‘Boundaries and conditions of interpretation in multilingual and multicultural elderly healthcare’. BMC Health Services Research 15(1): 458. Available online: https://bmchealthservres.biomedcentral.com/articles/10.1186/s12913015-1124-5 (accessed 14 June 2021). Heinrichsmeier, R. (2019). ‘Micro-analysis of spoken interaction’. In K. Tusting (ed.), The Routledge Handbook of Linguistic Ethnography, 168–83. London: Routledge. Henrich, N. and Holmes, B. J. (2011). ‘Communicating during a pandemic: Information the public wants about the disease and new vaccines and drugs’. Health Promotion Practice 12(4): 610–9. Montalt, V. (2020). ‘Medical translation in crisis situations’. In C. Declercq and F. M. Federici (eds), Intercultural Crisis Communication Translation, Interpreting and Languages in Local Crises, 105–26. London, UK: Bloomsbury Academic. Moser-Mercer, B., Kherbiche, L. and Class, B. (2014). ‘Interpreting conflict: Training challenges in humanitarian field interpreting’. Journal of Human Rights Practice 6: 140–58. Munro, R. (2013). ‘Crowdsourcing and the crisis-affected community: Lessons learned and looking forward from mission 4636’. Journal of Information Retrieval 16: 210–66. O’Brien, S. (2016). ‘Training translators for crisis communication: The translators without borders example’. In F. M. Federici (ed.), Mediating Emergencies and Conflict. Frontline Translation and Interpreting, 85–111. Houndshill, Basingstoke and New York: Palgrave Macmillan. O’Brien, S. and Cadwell, P. (2017). ‘Translation facilitates comprehension of health-related crisis information: Kenya as an example’. The Journal of Specialised Translation 28: 23–51. OHCHR. (n.d.). ‘About Migration and Human Rights’. Available online: https://www.ohchr. org/EN/Issues/Migration/Pages/about-migration-and-human-rights.aspx (accessed 14 June 2021). Pescaroli, G. and Alexander, D. (2016). ‘Critical infrastructure, panarchies and the vulnerability paths of cascading disasters’. Natural Hazards 82: 175–92. Rudvin, M. and Tomassini, E. (2008). ‘Migration, ideology and the interpreter-mediator: The Role of the language mediator in educational and medical settings in Italy’. In C. ValeroGarcés and A. Martin (eds), Crossing Borders in Community Interpreting. Definitions and Dilemmas, 245–66. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Seeger, M. W., Sellnow, T. L. and Ulmer, R. R. (2003). Communication and Organizational Crisis. Westport, CT: Praeger. Sellnow, T. L. and Seeger, M. W. (2013). Theorizing Crisis Communication. Chichester, UK: Wiley-Blackwell.

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Taviano, S. (2021). ‘ELF communication and intercultural mediation: An interdisciplinary approach’. inTRAlinea 23. Available online: http://www.intralinea.org/archive/article/elf_ communication_and_intercultural_mediation (accessed 12 June 2021). Tesseur, W. (2018). ‘Researching translation and interpreting in non-governmental organizations’. Translation Spaces 7(1): 1–19. Todorova, M. (2016). ‘Interpreting conflict mediation in Kosovo and Macedonia’. Linguistica Antverpiensia 15: 227–40. Todorova, M. (2020). ‘Interpreting for refugees: Lessons learnt from the field’. In E. N. S. Ng and I. H. M. Creeze (eds), Interpreting in Legal and Healthcare Settings: Perspectives on Research and Training, 63–81. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. UNHCR. (n.d.). ‘Figures at a Glance’. Available online: https://www.unhcr.org/figures-at-aglance.html (accessed 8 August 2021). Wang, P. (2020). ‘Translation in the COVID-19 health emergency in Wuhan. A crisis manager’s perspective’. The Journal of Internationalization and Localization 6(2): 86–107. Yin, R. K. (2018). Case Study Research and Applications: Design and Methods. 6th edition. Los Angeles: Sage.

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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Patient Acceptance of Translation Technology for Medical Dialogues in Emergency Situations JOHANNA GERLACH, PIERRETTE BOUILLON, ROVENA TROQE, SONIA HALIMI AND HERVÉ SPECHBACH

INTRODUCTION This chapter presents a study aimed at understanding the impact of machine translation (MT) and speech-to-text technology on patient trust in the context of medical dialogue translation in emergency settings. Patient trust can be defined as ‘a patient’s belief that the physician will act in the patient’s best interest and will provide appropriate treatment and medical care’ (Platonova et al., 2008: 699). Trust is known to be an important aspect of doctor-patient relationships and has often been described as one of the key factors that have benefits for both patient recovery and treatment acceptance (Birkhäuer et al., 2017; Pearson and Raeke, 2000). Pearson and Raeke (2000: 509–10) cite ‘competence, compassion, privacy and confidentiality, reliability and dependability and communication’ as some of the most commonly described dimensions of physician behaviour upon which patients base their trust. Patients may become mistrustful if they do not understand the language or if they feel that information is being withheld from them. In medicine, trust has often been associated with patient satisfaction. Birkhäuer et al. (2017) have found there to be a significant correlation between the two factors. Trust is therefore one of the criteria used to evaluate patient satisfaction in patient questionnaires. For example, the 29-item Medical Interview Satisfaction Scale (MISS-29) includes a Likert item with the following statement: ‘this is a doctor I would trust with my life’ (Meakin and Weinman, 2002: 263). Some studies have investigated the impact of technology on trust (Velsen, Tabak and Hermens, 2017). Telemedicine has sometimes been described as having a negative outcome on trust. One of the key findings of the 2015 report by TechnologyAdvice was that ‘75% per cent of people either wouldn’t trust a diagnosis made via telemedicine or would trust it less than one that was made in-person’. Along the same lines, lack of trust

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was sometimes mentioned as being one of the reasons as to why MT was rejected (Porro Rodríguez, Morado Vásquez and Bouillon, 2017). In this study, we therefore propose to measure patient acceptance of translation tools by looking at patient trust in the translation of diagnostic interviews. We aim to examine the impact of MT and text-to-speech (TTS) on patient trust in the context of doctorpatient dialogues in emergency settings with allophone patients. Our hypothesis is that despite the progress of these technologies, MT and TTS will be perceived as less trustable than the corresponding human translation and voice. Although trust is often a part of patient interview satisfaction evaluations in the medical domain, only a few studies consider trust in relation to MT (e.g. Rossetti, O’Brien and Cadwell, 2020). Moreover, to the best of our knowledge, this is the first study to measure the perceived impact of text-to-speech on patient trust. Voice and trust have sometimes been studied together, but from a different perspective, for example, to identify the effect of vocal characteristics on trust (Torre et al., 2018). We begin this chapter with an overview of translation tools for doctor-patient dialogues. We then describe the study we have carried out to evaluate the impact of translation technology on understandability and the perceived trustworthiness of both written and spoken translations. The Methodology section outlines our research questions and presents the tools, experimental material and study design. The Quantitative Results section then examines the collected evaluations and is followed by a discussion of interrater agreement. The Qualitative Results section summarizes the feedback collected from study participants. We conclude with a discussion of outcomes and limitations in the Discussion and Conclusions section.

TRANSLATION TOOLS IN DOCTOR-PATIENT DIALOGUES In emergency settings, hospitals have a crucial need for translation tools, for example, in Europe following the migratory crisis (Spechbach et al., 2019) or in the United States with patients who have limited English proficiency (Turner et al., 2019). Emergency services often have to deal with patients who do not share a common language with the staff, which has proven to have a negative impact both on healthcare quality and cost (Meischke et al., 2013). Lack of clear communication can interfere with the prompt and accurate provision of medical care. As mentioned in Turner et al. (2019), language barriers have sometimes even been listed as the second most common reason for a delay in care delivery among emergency providers (Grow, Sztajnkrycer and Moore, 2008). These barriers also increase the risk of bad diagnoses and poor therapy outcomes (Flores et al., 2003). Although the use of interpreters is considered to be the best solution to overcome a language barrier, in emergency situations, time constraints and availability can prevent their use. There is therefore a growing interest in automated translation tools to improve communication in this context. These tools have the advantage of being available at any time of the day and are perceived to be more cost-effective than interpreters. Additionally, in small language communities where patients may know the interpreters, tools can also improve privacy, assuming that they ensure data protection. Today, two main types of translation tools can be used in this context (Dew et al., 2018; Panayiotou et al., 2019). Phraselators (Seligman and Dillinger, 2013) are commonly used for safety and accuracy reasons. They are based on a limited set of pre-translated sentences which are produced for the patient in written or spoken form, using TTS or human recordings. Some phraselators are speech-enabled, allowing doctors to speak freely,

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thereby improving ergonomics in an environment that normally requires ‘hands free’, and enabling a more natural interaction with the patient. These systems map a speech recognition result to the closest match among the available pre-translated sentences. BabelDr (http://www.babeldr.unige.ch/), which was used in this study, is one example of a phraselator. It was developed by Geneva University and HUG (‘Hôpitaux universitaires de Genève’, or Geneva University Hospitals), with funding from the Private Foundation of HUG, for the triage of allophone patients in emergency situations (Spechbach et al., 2019). Up until now, it has proved to be useful for diagnostic interviews with refugees who visit the Outpatient Emergency Service (Janakiram et al., 2020). Figure 15.1 illustrates the usage of BabelDr. When the doctor utters a question, the phraselator echoes back the matching pre-translated sentence, and will only produce a translation for the patient once the doctor has approved this back translation of their utterance. The BabelDr system coverage currently includes more than 10,000 pretranslated sentences (hereafter, core sentences) collected in collaboration with doctors. Speech recognition results are mapped to these core sentences with neural methods trained on artificial data generated from a grammar, taking into account the context of dialogue (Mutal et al., 2020). The core sentence translations have been produced by professional translators on a dedicated online platform, which includes a translation memory (Gerlach, Spechbach and Bouillon, 2018). During translation, the platform presents the core sentences together with different mapped variations to help translators understand the range of meanings of the core sentences. It also allows translators to share comments about translation choices, for example, to indicate how they have dealt with a particular sentence or term. The translations are aimed at patients with no medical knowledge and take into consideration cultural aspects, for example relating to sensitive topics that are not commonly discussed. According to the corpus-based study by Halimi et al. (forthcoming), Persian doctors tend to avoid sensitive questions with the medical term prostate, and instead use paraphrases, such as ‘During the night, do you wake up several times to urinate?’ If the target language requires a distinction based on patient gender, translations are duplicated and adjusted to correctly address female or male patients. Target-language utterances are produced in written and spoken form, with the latter being produced by different means: Nuance TTS for the languages in which it is available and recordings of a native speaker reading the translations for the others. As there are two output formats, the translations must function both in written and spoken form, which complicates the translation task, as translators will often use different phrasing for spoken or written output. The alternative to phraselators is speech-to-speech machine translation (MT). While this technology is easily available on many devices, some recent evaluations have shown that it is not reliable enough in this context (Bouillon et al., 2017; Patil and Davies, 2014; Taira et al., 2021; Turner et al., 2019). Medical dialogues contain numerous context-

FIGURE 15.1  BabelDr usage example.

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dependent phenomena as well as specialized vocabulary, which complicate machine translation (Mutal et al., 2020). MT’s tendency to produce literal translations is also often problematic due to cultural differences in the way questions are posed (Halimi et al., forthcoming). The latter study showed that Persian-speaking doctors are more confident about using a diverse range of strategies to talk about sensitive matters, compared with the translation approach used for the Persian coverage of BabelDr. Doctors are therefore generally suspicious about the use of MT to overcome language barriers in a medical context. The study by Turner et al. (2019) showed that both patients and doctors prefer a phraselator to Google Translate in a simulated emergency context, although both tools were deemed less than satisfactory in this context. In a study on elderly people from culturally and linguistically diverse (CALD) backgrounds, Panayiotou et al. (2020) also concluded that fixed-phrase ‘translation apps were seen as more favourable than real-time voice-to-voice mobile translation applications’. Since the quality of speech recognition and MT has improved considerably over the last few years, however, we are interested in comparing phraselators (BabelDr) and speech-tospeech MT for diagnostic interviews, with a special focus on translation understandability and patient trust.

METHODOLOGY The research questions this chapter set out to answer are as follows: 1. In the context of a medical dialogue in emergency settings, are translations produced by phraselators perceived as more easily understandable than machine translations of the same doctor utterance? 2. In the context of a dialogue in emergency settings, are human pre-translations perceived as more trustworthy than machine translations of the same doctor utterance? 3. Does oralization and oralization method (TTS or human recording) affect their understandability and perceived trustworthiness? To answer these research questions, we have carried out an evaluation of translations of real spoken French doctor interactions collected from medical dialogues at the HUG (Janakiram et al., 2020). These were evaluated by native speakers of two of BabelDr’s target languages: Albanian and Arabic. The evaluation focuses on two aspects, understandability and trustworthiness, and two modalities, written and spoken translations. In the following sections, we describe the tools, experimental materials, design, participants and collected data.

Tools and experimental materials In this study, we compare two tools that can translate spoken French input into spoken Albanian and Arabic: a speech-enabled phraselator and a MT system used in simulated interpreter mode (with no validation of the recognition results by the user). BabelDr was used as the phraselator. For machine translation, we selected the widely used Google Translate (GT), which integrates speech recognition and offers a large range of target languages. Since it was not possible to process pre-recorded audio with the online version of GT, we instead used Google Cloud Speech-to-Text to transcribe the audio, and then processed the recognition result with Google translate to produce written translations into Albanian and Arabic.

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TABLE 15.1  Evaluation Overview Written

Spoken

Albanian

GT BabelDr

BabelDr human voice

Arabic

GT BabelDr

BabelDr TTS

Unfortunately, at the time of this study, GT could not provide spoken output for Albanian, so we could only evaluate the spoken output for BabelDr. One of the target languages in this study is therefore TTS produced by Nuance (Arabic), while the other has been recorded by a human (Albanian). Table 15.1 gives an overview of the evaluation. The data used for this study were extracted from real spoken usage data collected in 2019–20 from French-speaking doctors using BabelDr at HUG for triage (51 medical dialogues, 842 spoken utterances, 785 sentences translated from text). The data only includes the doctors’ utterances, since BabelDr is unidirectional and the patients respond nonverbally. Sentences include both questions, for example, ‘Avez-vous des allergies ?’ (do you have allergies?) and information, for example, ‘Nous allons faire une prise de sang’ (we are going to do a blood test). The BabelDr system allows for both speech and text interaction (selecting sentences to be translated from a list), but for our comparison with GT, we chose to focus on speech interactions. We have only included interactions that have resulted in a translation being produced for the patient, thereby excluding failed speech interactions and manipulation errors, thus ensuring that the selected sequences of utterances correspond to the message that the doctor intended to transmit. In order to extract a representative subset of data to evaluate the utterances in context, we selected dialogues with a high proportion of speech interactions (great than 70 per cent) and a minimum of twelve speech interactions. From each of the resulting twelve dialogues, we extracted all blocks of five to ten consecutive spoken utterances that the doctor chose to translate for the patient, in order to evaluate the dialogue in context. This left us with 26 blocks, with a total of 195 core sentences. To reduce the data for evaluation, we excluded blocks with a low ratio of unique core sentences (in relation to all selected sentences), blocks with less than four unique sentences, and kept a maximum of two blocks per dialogue. This left us with 15 blocks of five to ten sentences, with a total of 120 sentences. Sentence length ranges from 1 to 27 words, with an average length of 8.2 words. The collected audio was then processed in December 2020 with the current versions of the two systems being tested: BabelDr and GT. Table 15.2 provides examples of the utterances with core sentences and translations for both target languages. These examples will be discussed in more detail in the qualitative results section.

Experimental design The selected data were used to evaluate understandability at the sentence level and trustworthiness at the block level. To this end, we carried out four evaluations: 1. Understandability of written translations (BabelDr and GT): Assessors were presented with a translated sentence together with the two preceding sentences to provide context. They were asked to rate the sentence using the Likert response

‫ َهلْ كَانَتْ لَدَيْكَ ُح َمى ُم َؤ َّخ ًرا ؟‬  ‘a keni pasur infeksion në veshka?’   ‫ب ْال ِكلَى ؟‬ ِ ‫سبَقَ أ َ ْن تَعَ َّرضْتَ ِل ْلتِ َها‬ َ ْ‫َهل‬ ‘a keni pasur ndonjë shqetësim, ku jeni ndjerë i pafuqishëm?’   ‫ص ِ ّحيَة ؟‬ ِ ‫َهلْ تَعَ َّرضْتَ ل َِو ْع َك ٍة‬

‘avez-vous déjà eu une infection des reins ?’ (have you had an infection of the kidneys?)

‘avez-vous fait un malaise ?’ (have you fainted?)

‘avez-vous déjà eu une pyélonéphrite ?’ (have you had pyelonephritis?)

‘Est-ce que vous êtes récemment tombé dans les pommes ?’ (have you fainted recently; literally: have you recently fallen into the apples?)

‘a keni pasur temperaturë kohët e fundit?’

‘avez-vous eu de la fièvre dernièrement ?’ (have you had fever recently?) 

‘avez-vous eu de la fièvre ?’ (have you had fever?) 

BabelDr translation

BabelDr core sentence

Transcription

TABLE 15.2  Examples of Sentences Included in the Evaluation

‘est-ce que vous êtes tombé dans les pommes’ (have you fallen into the apples)

‘avez-vous déjà eu une pyélonéphrite’ (have you had pyelonephritis)

‘avait de la fièvre’ (had fever)

GT speech rec. result

‘a keni rënë për të?’   ‫هل وقعت من أجله؟‬

‘a keni pasur ndonjëherë pielonefrit’   ‫هل أصبت من قبل بالتهاب الحويضة والكلية‬ 

‘kishte ethe’   ‫كان يعاني من الحمى‬

GT translation

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format, with four response options going from 1 (not understandable) to 4 (perfectly understandable). 2. Perceived trustworthiness of written translations (BabelDr and GT): Assessors were presented with a block of consecutive translated sentences and were asked to rate their feeling of trust based on the extract. Rating was carried out by means of a Likert response format with four response options going from 1 (not at all) to 4 (absolutely). 3. Understandability of spoken translations (BabelDr only, human recording for Albanian; TTS for Arabic): this followed the same scheme as 1, but with an audio clip to evaluate instead of a written sentence. 4. Perceived trustworthiness of spoken translations (BabelDr only, human recording and TTS): this followed the same scheme as 2, but with concatenated spoken translations instead of a block of written sentences. The evaluation was carried out using Google Forms that were localized for the assessors’ languages. Albanian- and Arabic-speaking assessors were invited to rate a number of written and spoken sentences. They were provided with information about the communication situation, that is, a doctor performing a diagnostic interview with a patient at HUG. The purpose of the evaluation was also explained to all the assessors, namely (1) to comprehend the extent to which the judge understands the written and spoken sentences, and (2) to comprehend the degree of confidence the judge has in what the doctor is saying. Using a between-subjects design, the data was split into three equal subsets, and each judge evaluated one subset for each of the cases (BabelDr written, GT written, BabelDr spoken), thus ensuring that they would not see the same sentence or block multiple times. For the evaluation of written items (understandability and trustworthiness), the output of

TABLE 15.3  Understandability Evaluation, Distribution of the Data among Assessors for Both Languages Assessors

Subset A (40 sentences)

Subset B (40 sentences)

Subset C (40 sentences)

group 1

j1, j2, j3

BabelDr written

GT written

BabelDr spoken

group 2

j4, j5, j6

BabelDr spoken

BabelDr written

GT written

group 3

j7, j8, j9

GT written

BabelDr spoken

BabelDr written

TABLE 15.4  Trustworthiness Evaluation Distribution of the Data among Assessors for Both Languages Assessors

Subset A (5 blocks)

Subset B (5 blocks)

Subset C (5 blocks)

group1

j1, j2, j3

GT written

BabelDr spoken

BabelDr written

group2

j4, j5, j6

BabelDr written

GT written

BabelDr spoken

group3

j7, j8, j9

BabelDr spoken

BabelDr written

GT written

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TRANSLATING CRISES

both systems was combined in random order in a single form. With this setup, each data item (sentence or block) was evaluated by three assessors. Tables 15.3 and 15.4 illustrate the data distribution for evaluation. Since BabelDr includes different translations for female and male patients, the forms were doubled to allow assessors to evaluate the translations appropriate for their gender. In addition to the ratings, we also included text entry fields for comments (for each sentence/block) in the forms, allowing the assessors to provide explanations for their choices. They were not required to fill out these fields. We recruited nine participants per language. For Arabic, they were all native speakers with refugee status. They were educated persons who all (with one exception) came from the same geographical area of conflict. Two of them were in their early twenties, four in their thirties, two in their forties and one was fifty. For Albanian, they were native speakers, based in different regions of Albania. Four of them had a secondary school qualification, and five a university degree. Three of them were in their twenties, four in their thirties and two were over forty years old. All participants were compensated for their time and contribution. For both languages, and for each of the 120 sentences included in the study, we have collected three written understandability ratings for BabelDr translations, three written understandability ratings for GT translations and three spoken understandability ratings for the BabelDr audio. For both languages, and for each of the fifteen blocks of sentences, we have collected three written trustworthiness ratings for BabelDr translations, three written trustworthiness ratings for GT translations and three spoken trustworthiness ratings for the concatenated BabelDr audio.

QUANTITATIVE RESULTS Written translations Table 15.5 shows the results of our first evaluation – the understandability of the individual sentences – which were presented to assessors in written form. The three ratings obtained for each sentence were combined to produce a majority rating. We

TABLE 15.5  Majority Ratings for the Understandability of Written Translations at the Sentence Level for Both Languages 1 Not understandable

3

4 Perfectly understandable

2

No maj.

BabelDr

1

-

3

114 (95%)

2

GT

8

3

7

86 (72%)

16

BabelDr

-

-

-

117 (98%)

3

GT

10

4

1

99 (83%)

6

Albanian

Arabic

PATIENT ACCEPTANCE OF TRANSLATION TECHNOLOGY

261

observe similar results for both languages, with BabelDr producing a larger proportion of perfectly understandable sentences (95 per cent and 98 per cent) than GT (72 per cent and 83 per cent). This difference can be explained by the ability of the systems to handle speech recognition errors. With BabelDr, speech recognition errors only affect back translation, that is, the mapping of the speech recognition result to core sentences. The translations themselves are not affected, since they are human translations of correct sentences. For GT, as the translation is a direct translation of the speech recognition result, recognition errors can lead to poor translations. We have therefore investigated the association between GT speech recognition quality, quantified by means of the word error rate (WER) and the majority understandability rating at the sentence level. The results of the Spearman correlation indicate that there is a significant negative association between WER and understandability for both target languages (Albanian: rs = −.33, p