Showing posts with label Polish language. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Polish language. Show all posts

Thursday, 18 July 2024

Do you think in a language?

There are times in a day when I catch myself thinking: "I am or I am not thinking in a language?" When I am sure that I am indeed thinking in either English or Polish, this is most often while engaging in the mental process of dressing up a thought in words, a thought that I wish to express, verbally or in written form. Yes, I think in language when I'm interfacing with media – reading or listening. But what about the rest of the time, when my mind's freewheeling?

I remember in the early summer of 1966, ahead of our family holiday to Poland, lying awake at night and thinking how I would speak to the Polish children that I'd meet and play with while there. Consciously, I framed imaginary conversations in Polish. By then, having completed four years of English primary school education, my default language was already English. And yet I was surprised in my own mind just how easily I could flip to Polish. Of course, I was unaware of being unaware of the latest slang that would be employed in a Polish school playground, vocabulary not used around our kitchen table. But otherwise, as I lay in bed in West London, I felt I could handle the linguistic switch.

*****

Generally, when I'm not preparing a speech or working out what I want to write next, my thinking is language-neutral. I know this is the case whenever  I get stuck for a word. I know the exact meaning, but couldn't recall the precise word. Seeking the right word, I'll toggle between English and Polish, or use an online Thesaurus should that fail. But my mind has the concept understood – or 'grokked' to use current parlance – perfectly.

To see whether you think in a language or not, try to catch yourself in the middle of a train of thought – or indeed, a stream of consciousness. Ideally, when you're in the middle of a routine task, such as taking out the household waste or making the bed. Stop, and then track back along that train (or stream), and see whether you were indeed forming words in a given language, or if they were just concepts, unadorned by language, not expressed as words.

Bilingualism makes this process easier, for you can check whether there was vocabulary deployed within that train of thought, and unusual words in a given language act as readily identifiable markers.

Below: an excerpt from Lex Fridman's April 2024 interview with MIT psycholinguistics professor, Edward Gibson. Scroll forward to 08:30 ('Thoughts and words'). It seems, according to Prof Gibson, that 70% to 75% of people do think in a language, resulting in the percept of an inner conversation. He could not explain why – both he, and Lex Fridman, and indeed myself, do not experience this. Is bilingualism an explanation, or part of the explanation? Or is it something entirely different?




This time two years ago:
A better tomorrow - geodiversity

This time three years ago:
Warka - small-town Poland's moving up

This time four years ago:

This time five years ago:

Saturday, 12 November 2022

On Etymology

Etymology (n) The study of the historical development of languages, particularly as manifested in individual words; the origin and historical development of a word; the derivation. 

From  the Latin etymologia, from Ancient Greek ἐτυμολογία (etumología), from ἔτυμον (étumon, 'true sense') and -λογία (-logía, 'study of'), from λόγος (lógos, 'word' or 'explanation').

September, 1967. A warm day in late summer in my back garden on Croft Gardens, Hanwell, West London. Our neighbour, Janet, comes to visit me. She is two years above me and has just started her first year at secondary school. We're chatting; I casually remark that something is 'fabulous'.

"Umm!" she replied. "Our teacher says you're not allowed to say 'fabulous' because it comes from the word that means a tale told long ago!" "A fable?" I asked. "Yes", she said. I pondered on this for a while; I had indeed read books of fables but had not connected the word 'fable' with the word 'fabulous'. Nor indeed 'fantastic' with 'fantasy'...

Once I started grammar school, we had the most rigorous teacher of English who introduced us to the concept of (and woe betide any boy who couldn't define or spell) etymology. At the same time, I started learning Latin and French, and new linguistic connections were made, helped out by my knowledge of Polish. This, for example, helped me guess the meaning of châtaigne (chestnut, via the Polish kasztan) or requin (shark, via the Polish rekin). The Latin lessons also came in handy for learning the etymological roots of many words common to English, French and indeed Polish. Sadly, I didn't come into the remotest contact with Ancient Greek, though this is just as handy for an appreciation of etymological roots of modern words as is Latin. 

My father was curious about etymologies, and would ask me from time to time whether I thought word x shared a common root with word y in another language. To the end of his life, he kept a well-thumbed dictionary at his bedside. The book had small Post-It notes inside, and the letter of the alphabet written in highlighter pen on the facing edge.

Happily, along came the internet and with it online dictionaries, thesauruses and other tools to help the linguistically curious. And not just in English; the Oxford English Dictionary, the principle historical dictionary of the language, has been overtaken by Wiktionary in terms of ease of use and speed of update. Not as authoritative, but it is nicely comprehensive. Its Polish equivalent, wolny słowniki wielojęzyczny Wikisłownik carries (here and there) some rudimentary details (often from the online but decidedly clunky Wielki Słownik Języka Polskiego).

All this helps us vastly (or should do!) when it comes to precise writing. Communicating complex thoughts, rich in nuance, requires a reasonable grasp of etymology. We should dive in and check not just a meaning, not just look for synonyms, but discover the etymology too.

Languages evolve; the process of linguistic evolution has been described as memetic in nature. Just as genes carry information from one generation to the next, so memes are the means by which ideas spread. A joke, a gesture, a fashion, a trope, a concept, a saying - if it passes the test of fitness for purpose, if it is reproduced from person to person, it will spread like a virus. It helps if the originator has high status within the group hierarchy, then their idea will travel further and faster. Hence, influencer.

The word meme itself is a neologism coined by Richard Dawkins, in his 1976 book The Selfish Gene. He wrote: "We need a name for the new replicator, a noun that conveys the idea of a unit of cultural transmission, or a unit of imitation. 'Mimeme' comes from a suitable Greek root, but I want a monosyllable that sounds a bit like 'gene'. I hope my classicist friends will forgive me if I abbreviate mimeme to meme. It should be pronounced to rhyme with 'cream'." So there we have it.


This time last year:
Free will, determinism, and the supernatural

This time two years ago:
Hammer of Darkness cubed

This time four years ago:
Magic day, in and around Jakubowizna

This time five years ago:
Warsaw-London-Ealing

This time seven years ago:
With my father and brother in Derbyshire

This time nine years ago:
In praise of Warsaw's trams

This time 12 years ago:
Setting sun in the mountains

This time 13 years ago:
That learning moment

Friday, 17 June 2022

Familiarity, revisited

Me: "There's no direct equivalent in Polish for the word 'familiarity'."

Stock response: "Yes there is - it's znajomość".

Nowhere near, I'd argue. Look at the etymology. 'Familiar' shares the same root as the word 'family'. From the Latin familia, or 'household'; Znajomość, like the word znajomy - acquaintance - has its root in the verb znać, 'to know'. Znajomość is defined as 'relacja osób, opierająca się na utrzymywaniu ogólnych, niezbyt bliskich stosunków' ('relationship of people, based on maintaining general, not very close relationships'). 

"Are you familiar with the works of James Joyce?" "No, but I am acquainted with them." 

There's a big difference.

Familiarity is defined as 'close or habitual acquaintance with someone or something; understanding or recognition acquired from experience'.

It's that second part I want to focus on - 'understanding or recognition acquired from experience'. Familiarity - with a landscape, with music, with taste - with all manner of subjective experience - is a matter of consciousness. Something you intuitively feel - or not. A period of history, a place in space and time - do you feel it - or not? It either clicks, or suits, or falls into place in your consciousness - or it doesn't. The familiar is congruent. It fits. 

Familiarity is important, just as comfort is important. If something is unfamiliar, it can be uncomfortable. But something strange or even eerie can be comfortably familiar. 'Strangely familiar' is itself a familiar term, suggesting a common experience.

My childhood included numerous conscious moments of anomalous familiarity - "where do I know that feeling from?" A snatch of melody, a particular cloud formation, an old motorbike, a scent - intimate experiences, unique to me, outside of ego or imagination, yet instantly familiar to me and only me.

These flashbacks of anomalous familiarity occur to me a couple of times a week, more often when the seasons change. I had one on this evening's walk - I turned west towards a sun setting towards a flat horizon in a cloudless sky, under the wide brim of my bush-hat. Strongly familiar yet not West Ealing or Warwickshire.

They are pleasant and bring me comfort and indeed joy. And with them comes a sense that life is less transient than our physical selves - biological containers for our egos - think it is.

[Update Jan 2023: One suggestion I was offered was bliskość - (literally 'nearness') - good one! And the adjective, for familiar, would be bliski/bliska/bliskie. Thank you, A!]

This time four years ago:
Karczunkowska viaduct - further delays

This time ten years ago:
Russia's going home

This time 15 years ago:
Sun and zenith rising

Tuesday, 28 December 2021

The Person Who Contemplates Not.

One of those Polish words that doesn't click into place with a one-for-one translation into English is zastanawiać się. A reflexive verb in Polish, it translates (roughly) as 'to wonder (about)', 'to reflect (upon)', 'to think (of)', 'to ponder', 'to contemplate', 'to puzzle (over)' something. A Polish synonym would be skłaniać do refleksji, which Google Translate renders as 'to provoke reflection'

So. Człowiek, który nie zastanawia się is 'the person who doesn't wonder (about something); doesn't reflect (on something); doesn't contemplate (something). The English equivalents are non-reflexive. But then an English reflexive verb denotes that the subject and object are the same person ('I wash myself'). Note too:  Stanowić (without any prefix) means 'to constitute' or 'to determine'. Ustanowić means to establish, to enact, to legislate, to appoint. Postanowić means 'to decide'

This, by way of introduction to a thought I jotted down a while ago:

The person who contemplates not? The non-pondering person? What is it that they do not ponder? Well - everything and anything - contemplation is not their thing; it's not what they do. Reflection - self-reflection; "I just get on with it. If I spent all my time contemplating, I'd never get anything done". "You never achieve anything by philosophising about life, the Universe, everything." "I consider myself to be a practical person, not a theorist".

The self-described 'practical person' rarely has time for consideration of the great questions of existence - why are we here, what's the point of it all, why is there something rather than nothing. By not contemplating such existential issues, all that's left with is matter. Materialism. Ownership and status. What I have is who I am [relative to others] - a vain existence devoid of the rich inner world of the observant and curious person whose mind is restless in its zastanowienie. 

Contemplation, over time, honing one's own worldview in light of experience and argument, does lead to a greater peace of mind, a happier and more joyous life. But is this a matter of choice or birth? Nature or nurture?

The feeling of being grateful is essential to living the contemplative life. Whatever you have - spiritual ease, peace of mind, health - be grateful for it and don't lapse into complacency. 

This time three years ago:
2018 - a year in journeys

This time nine years ago:
Wise words about motoring

This time ten years ago:
Hurry up and wait with WizzAir at Luton

Wednesday, 24 November 2021

Sleep - a portal to another Universe?

It's the time of year to obsess about sleep - to get your sleep right; to maximise its effectiveness as the free-of-charge wonder drug that boosts your immune system while rejuvenating you. 

The cusp of wakefulness and sleep, as you slip away, is fascinating - I try to stay conscious so as I can be aware of those odd, almost dream-like thoughts - indeed precursors to dreams - and attempt to parse them... and then nod off as I try.

I am blessed with sound sleep. Typically eight and a quarter hours, waking once or twice in between (depending on evening fluid intake). Optimal sleep (as I wrote here) is bed by 22:00, zonk out, wake at 02:00 after four hours of sleep, 15 minutes interval, then another four hours of sleep and I wake naturally at 06:15. That's how it was last night. 

The pause at the halfway stage is a remnant of pre-industrial times, when our sleep (especially in northern latitudes in winter) would be punctuated by a break of up to two hours, assuming our ancestors went to bed shortly after sunset and rose just before sunrise.

While in the process of dropping off, feeling consciousness slipping away is to be savoured, for it is very much an altered state. One's train of thought is shunted onto a mysterious track and if you find yourself here consciously, and examine it, running it back, you may find it makes no sense at all. Often this would be an examination of the day; I'd find myself worrying about some work not done, or some minor problem... then considering it, I'd discover that it didn't exist at all. 

This is something that intrigues me; this is a phenomenon that sits within the brain/mind problem, on the cusp of the world of classical cause-and-effect physics and quantum mechanics - if Penrose and Hameroff are on the right track by postulating that consciousness is quantum in nature.

Our dreams - what are they really? Are they no more than a subconscious audit of the day's thoughts, concerns and emotions? Or is something stranger going on? Non-local consciousness at play?

I woke at 2am, emptied my bladder, returned to bed - and attempted to connect my consciousness into that of the Universe. The first word that swims unbidden into my consciousness is: 'CONFIRM'. After a while, the second one appears 'SEFTON'. A little later, 'LALE STREET'.  Note - these are not auditory hallucinations; they pop up telepathically, but clearly, unambiguously. I wake at 06:15 and check Google Maps. I find that Sefton, as a place name, appears in the UK (in Merseyside), in New South Wales, New Zealand and Illinois. None has a Lale Street. I check Lale Street. There's but one - on Honolulu. My nocturnal hope of waking to find it and to ascribe significance, just as I did that night in June 2004 when I woke to find the exact wooden hotel, the Zig Zag Inn, in Zig Zag, Oregon. Or the night two years ago when I woke to find the location of my dream of Biarritz.

But in an alternate Universe? Could there be a Lale Street in a place called Sefton but in another dimension? In an alternate timeline? On a parallel plane? Proponents of a multiverse consisting of an infinite number of alternate universes must accept that in one of them there is. The one difference between Sefton and Zig Zag and Biarritz is that the latter two were dreams, while Sefton was only a word that popped into waking consciousness during a brief period between sleep.

On a sleep-related note, I have long been fascinated by the linguistic gaps and overlaps that exist between English and Polish. The following occurred to me yesterday - that the notions of sleeping, dreaming, falling asleep, being asleep - and sleep itself - align themselves differently in the two languages. Sleeping and dreaming seem quite interchangeable in Polish; the notions of dreaming during sleep and dreaming of something while awake (śnić and marzyć respectively) are indistinct in English.

English                part of speech         Polish
dream    noun marzenie
dream    noun sen
sleep    noun sen
sleepy    adjective senn-y/-a/-e
asleep    adverb we śnie
to sleep    verb spać
to fall sleep    verb zasnąć
to dream    verb śnić
to dream    verb
marzyć

This time two years ago:
A month and much progress at Chynów station

This time three years ago:
Tram tips for visiting Edinburgh

This time four years ago:
Warsaw to Edinburgh made easier

This time six years ago:
Stuffocation: the rich-world problem of dealing with too many things

This time nine years ago:
Heroes on the wall (for my father)

This time 11 years ago:
Tax dodge or public service?

This time 12 years ago:
Warsaw's woodlands in autumn

This time 13 years ago:
Still here, the early snow

This time 14 years ago:
Another point of view

Monday, 3 February 2020

Knowing what 'good' looks like

How good is good? When I, as a native English speaker and trained journalist, experienced proof-reader and copywriter/editor look at some attempts by Polish firms to sell their products or services to a British market, I weep.

Lovely brochure or website, great design, photography, spot-varnish, paper... but just read that English! It's often comical - unintentionally so. Why? Because there's no one at the top of the decision-making process that knows what good looks like. Yes, everyone can tell that's great design, photography and printing - but unless you're a native speaker of English*, you don't know whether what's been written in English will resonate in the intended way with the target audience.

A fellow London-born Pole, working in a state-owned institution, was upset by the poor quality of English-language output, aimed at businesses around the world. She took this up with Pani Prezes herself, who told her that "sprawdzone było przez tłumacza przysięgłego" (it was checked by a sworn translator). One could scream and tear out one's hair. That's ass-coveringly bad. Should anyone ever challenge her as to why the English was so poor, there will always be a piece of paper with which to protect yourself - your sworn translator's diploma. But that's not the point...

Another fellow London-born Pole runs a language school and was once asked by a producer of building materials to proof-read a short (around 40 words) text that was to go on an full-page advert destined for the outside back cover of a leading UK weekly magazine for the building trade. The cost of the year-long ad campaign would have run into the low hundreds of thousands of pounds. Yet the text was atrocious. Yes, it would have been memorable - but for the wrong reason. When my friend told the producer how much he wanted to get the slogan right, he was laughed at. "A hundred euro for a few sentences?" Yet the cost of not spending that money would have been vast in terms of reputation and lost opportunity. In the end, the producer saw the light and coughed up.

Very often it's a budget thing - translator A is cheaper than translator B. But it's not about translation - it's about transcreation. Taking things apart, getting at the core message, and rebuilding it in a manner that's familiar to your reader. Familiar means trustworthy and therefore persuasive. To do that, you need to know your readers, know the conventions and patterns of language to which they are familiar. This means immersion in that language for decades, if not since childhood.

Below: can you see the difference? If not, you don't know what good looks like, and you need to bring in a native-speaking copy editor.


You need to know how to be creative with the language - knowing the plays-on-words that will strike a chord. Knowing how to break rules for effect. Often a neat Polish phrase carries no meaning when translated literally into English - yet that's exactly what a sworn translator is paid to do - all well and good in a court of law, but not so clever in the context of marketing and advertising.

How many people in Poland are native speakers of Polish? Over 38 million. How many of those 38 million are professional copywriters or copy editors? Several thousand at best. Maybe 0.02% of the population. Now, how many native speakers of English are there in Poland. Ten thousand? How many of those are professional writers (ie. make a living by stringing together sentences in English?) A tiny handful - and most of those are gainfully employed in high-paying gigs.

* Yes, there are some outstanding Polish writers in English in Poland, who are not natives but who have have spent years studying English and applied linguistics and have working professionally for decades - and can do the job well. But again, we are in the realms of hundreds rather than tens of thousands in the whole of Poland.

There would be a gap in the market if only Pan or Pani Prezes knew what good looked like. Then, they'd be prepared to pay a price that reflects the value that decent copywriting and copy-editing in a foreign language delivers.

This time last year:
Sewer system extended up Trombity

This time two years ago:
What Happened at the Railway Inn (Part II)

This time five years ago:
Demand and inequality in the global economy

This time six years ago:
Sorry, takie mamy koleje

This time seven years ago:
Visit to Warsaw's Jewish Cemetery

This time eight years ago:
Under Rondo Dmowskiego 

This time nine years ago:
My Most favourite bridge

This time ten years ago:
Street lighting under the snow

This time 11 years ago:
Ul. Poloneza - archival video before the S2 was built

This time 12 years ago:
Aerial juxtaposition over Jeziorki

Saturday, 9 February 2019

Fairness, simplicity, taxation and a sustainable society

Walter Scheidel's The Great Leveler: Violence and the History of Inequality from the Stone Age to the Twenty-First Century traces the rise and fall of inequality over the millennia. The Austrian economic historian has concluded that inequality has a natural tendency to increase over time, and that falls in inequality are always dramatic and sudden, and caused by war, pandemic, state collapse or revolution. And that like Kondratieff's Long Wave cycle in economics, they are inevitable.

What's worrying is that Scheidel is suggesting that we're overdue for one of these shake-ups, as the rich are now holding a similar percentage of the world's income as they did before WW2. In the years after WW2, inequality hit a low in the late 1970s; since then it has been rising inexorably. Prof Scheidel shows that events such as smaller wars not involving mass mobilisation, pandemics, civil wars or economic crises do not lead to a reset of the balance between rich and poor. It takes a whopper such as the Black Death, the Great Plague, WWI followed by the Spanish Flu, or the French Revolution to wrest the wealth out of the coffers of society's wealthiest 1% and put it into the pockets of the working man. There was a huge fall in inequality between the late 19th or early 20th century and the late 20th century. For the UK, the share of wealth of the top 1% was around 70%-75% from 1895 to 1906, but bottomed out at 15.2% in 1984.

There's not much we can do about a global pandemic breaking out, but if we don't want wars, state collapse or revolution, we ought to strive to ensure that inequality does not rise again to unsustainable levels. This is nothing to do with an ideological uravnilovka, a levelling-down of society for its own sake; all to do with avoiding social disturbances and bloodshed. Taxation, as Dutch historian Rutger Bregman said at this year's World Economic Forum in Davos, is the answer. Addressing the audience of billionaires, he said: 'It feels like I’m at a firefighters' conference and no one’s allowed to speak about water.' It is, all about paying tax. "The rest," he says, "is bullshit."

It's time to take a structural look at our tax systems. They stand on the cusp of major technological change, as the process of digitising financial transactions continue apace. I can envisage a situation in which all transactions are taxed at point of sale, and reported in real time. This is easier to implement in VAT (split-payment and real-time reporting fiscal cash registers) and PAYE than for corporation tax (CIT); companies have a duty to their shareholders not to over-pay tax - but shareholders should be mindful that tax revenues foregone to state exchequers through base erosion and profit shifting cannot be made up by charitable giving. Wheezes such as the 'double Irish with a Dutch sandwich', a tax avoidance technique employed by some corporates using a combination of Irish and Dutch subsidiary companies to shift profits to low- or no-tax jurisdictions, do not play well with consumers.

As consumers - and voters - gain a better understanding of how their societies function and are funded, egregious tax avoidance from household-name brands becomes less sustainable. But then governments have a duty to spend tax revenues wisely and not on their cronies or pumping public money into party-political propaganda.

On 19 February, we'll be holding a conference at the British Embassy in Warsaw bringing experts from Her Majesty's Revenue and Customs (HMRC) to talk about two aspects of taxation - communicating with taxpayers, and digitisation of tax systems. The audience will consist of Polish tax officials and foreign investors - the discussion should be interesting; I'm hoping for some fruitful exchange of best practice.

One key topic is the balance between fairness and simplicity. As Richard Hawthorne, deputy director of customer communications at HMRC says, if you strive to simplify a tax system, it becomes less fair; if your want to make it fairer, it becomes less simple. In Poland, one can see that a desire for fairness beats simplicity hands down. Every citizen, rich or poor, has the same onerous duties to fulfil regarding the tax authorities, including the annual completion of the PIT 11D tax form. In the UK, if you are an employee on a permanent contract (pay-as-you-earn), you may live your entire life without ever seeing a tax return form.

Another is language. The UK tax system has for decades been focused on improving the ease with which the taxpayer understands what is being requested of them. The Plain English Campaign, launched in 1979, has fought a successful battle with banks, lawyers, insurers, and yes, the taxman, to cement the notion that the writer's responsibility to be understood takes precedence over the reader's responsibility to understand.

The process of rewriting Britain's tax law began in 1997. The rewritten legislation incorporated easier-to-understand language, a more logical structure and shorter sentences, and the Plain English Campaign worked alongside Inland Revenue (as it was then) to make the necessary changes that would be incorporated across all official communications with taxpayers. The UK tax return form has earned its Crystal Mark for clarity. I can attest to this, having filled out my father's tax returns online twice in a row, and on paper the year before that. Unlike the Polish form, one can grasp exactly what the purpose of each question is and what answer is expected.

Simplifying the language used to communicate with taxpayers has clear advantages. In an experiment conducted by the Polish tax authorities (supported by experts from the World Bank) in western Poland in 2015, a letter chasing overdue tax payments, written in straightforward Polish, proved to be 30% more effective than one worded in the traditional way. Yet this experiment remained an experiment. Last year, the Polish tax authorities promoted the notion of '3xP' - proste, przejrzyste, przyjazne - 'straightforward, transparent, friendly' as part of an overall shake-up of the tax system, intended to bring it up to date with EU standards and technological changes. Will that happen? Will missives from the Polish tax authorities cease to be written in the agentless passive? (example: 'zabrania się'). I have long been banging on about the need for a Plain Polish Campaign.

UK experience over the past 20 years shows that implementing a customer-centric approach, driven by clear communication, is not expensive to do and is a good investment in terms of improved collection. It does, however, require a massive change in thinking among all tax-office employees.

The technology issue is also of huge interest. On the one hand, we have seen the full implementation in Poland of the Single Audit File (Tax) ('Jednolity Plik Kontrolny'), and the elimination of most VAT carousels based on the automatic cross-interrogation of invoices. Real-time reporting is raising revenues from sectors where cash-in-hand transactions are the norm (from car washes to hairdressers). But on the other hand, there's the rise of cryptocurrencies like Bitcoin, being used to move money across border under the noses of the tax inspectors. How will this look in the future?

Tax is going to get a whole lot more interesting in coming years - the future stability of society rests upon it.

More about taxation in Poland from me here:

Modern governance for a complex world (Dec 2015)

I'm Payin' Taxes, But What Am I Buyin'? (Oct 2015)

More about Polish officialese from me here:

Translation and cultural difficulties (Apr 2015)

Orwell's Politics and Language and Poland (Mar 2012)

*****************************

This time last year:
Polish beer cans in the UK: new shit has come to light

This time three years ago:
Lent, a time to cleanse and reflect

This time five years ago:
It was 50 years ago today... Beatles arrive in New York

This time seven years ago:
Adventures in the Screen Trade - the truth about Hollywood

This time eight years ago:
The sad end of Andrzej J.

This time ten years ago:
Today's dose of wintery gorgeousness

This time 11 years ago:
First intimations of spring

Saturday, 14 May 2016

Language and politics

I wrote about the Hierarchy vs. the Networks the other day, and wish to return to an aspect of political discourse - again, this applies to more than just to Poland and the UK.

I wrote about Mankind's journey from barbarism towards civilisation; from brute towards angel.

Language is an important aspect of this.

The Language of Absolutes

Watching Donald Trump, in his use of absolutes, confirms this. He defines himself by decrying things he claims to be against in absolute terms. "The worst...", "always...", "never...", "everywhere..." etc. This is the language of the Hierarch, painting the world in simplistic terms to his followers.

The language of the networks is more nuanced. "Usually..", "in most cases...", "one of the better...". The board, or the committee, or the council, prefers precise terminology to sweeping generalisations.

The wilder the assertions, the better it plays with the unsophisticated, partially engaged voter. 'Post-truth politicians', says the Guardian's Jonathan Freedland of Trump and Boris Johnson. For politicians craving personal power for themselves, the truth gets in the way of a good line. "Pedants still hung up on facts and evidence and all that boring stuff are left for dust, their boots barely laced while the lie has spread halfway around the world," writes Mr Freedland.

Both hierarchies and networks have their narratives, but by their nature those spun by the hierarchs are simpler than the more complex, detail-laden narratives that the networks employ.

The Language of the Playground

Hierarchs are happier with the language of the playground. Insults bandied around by 15 year-old boys, designed to trigger aggressive behaviour, are the ritual of forming a hierarchy. Who's tougher. Who's the leader of the gang. Who's top dog.

As we grow up, name-calling is no longer seen as big or mature. Aggressive language is ineffective in the workplace as a management strategy, especially in a knowledge-based economy. Vilification of colleagues or subordinates does not move the business forward. Leaders stooping to such behaviour are merely revealing their weakness.

But in politics, where it's not a workforce that needs to be motivated on an everyday basis, but voters in a four- or five-year cycle. Voters are not as engaged or as knowledgeable about how the state functions compared to employees, who turn up each day and know how the business operates.

The language of anger and hate has no place in the modern political discourse. And yet it's there. How should civilised people react?

Fighting back

All around the world there are good guys and bad guys. The good side (in my book) tend toward networked solutions to human problems. The bad guys seek to perpetuate or re-establish hierarchical structures. The bad guys name-call and simplify complex issues to laughably basic levels. The good guys tend not to retaliate with aggressive language and will often point out that the issues being discussed are more multi-faceted than the hierarchs paint them. Illegal migration from Mexico? Simple! Build a wall. And make Mexico pay. Will calling Trump "a deluded egomaniac" put off swing voters from putting their X against his name? Or is it politically more effective to point out the many practical reasons why building a wall along the Mexican border, financed by Mexico, would be counterproductive?

How best then, to fight back against the powerful forces that hold back Mankind's slow journey towards civilisation? This is something I've not managed to get my head around yet. The Prisoner's Dilemma offers us a powerful algorithm that sets out how we ought to behave toward our fellow man for the optimal outcome. If he gets along with us just fine, we should never do anything against him. Co-existing with him in honest cooperation, we will both flourish. Win-win. Sustainable growth.

Yet what happens when he turns nasty on us? The answer is to punish him - instantly and robustly - and to continue to do so until the moment he asks for mercy, and decides to return to a policy of cooperation. And then cooperate with him, continuing to do so - unless there's a further transgression.

Played out on computers millions of times, the optimal outcome is always the same:
Cooperate - cooperate. Defect - defect. All well and good. But my problem with the Prisoner's Dilemma model is a) how to define 'defect' and b) how to retaliate. The simple answers are a) breach of goodwill and b) proportionately. But these two guidelines need further clarification.

In the political arena, should the civilised Networkers stoop to the level of the Hierarchs, the use the same simplistic language and name-calling back at them? Or fight the battle on a higher plane, appealing to the voters' better instincts?

This time last year:
Trafalgar Square, then and now

This time three years ago:
GM's city car for Europe fails to wow me

This time four years ago:
A biblical sky

This time six years ago:
The parable of the Iron-Filings Factory

This time nine years ago:
Got to get ourselves back to the Garden


Thursday, 23 April 2015

Translation and cultural differences

Saturday's congress of translators gave me the chance to ponder some more on the linguistic and cultural space between Britain and Poland.

The 20th Century saw the English language evolve in the direction of clarity. Winston Churchill and George Orwell both understood the power of clarity in communication. If you want people to listen to you, and act upon what you say, use short words and short sentences, avoid pomposity and get to the point. The Plain English Campaign, launched in 1979, accelerated this direction. The Campaign wages war against gobbledegook and jargon wherever it may appear – in official letters, in the small print of insurance documents, in legal opinions, in press releases, in banks' advertising materials.

The results are there for all to see. Look at the sheer brilliance of the UK government's website, Gov.uk. What's the current threshold for paying VAT in the UK? Three clicks from the homepage and you know. Marvel at the clarity of the information: "You must register for VAT with HM Revenue and Customs (HMRC) if your business’ VAT taxable turnover is more than £82,000." Crystal clear! [I challenge you to find out what the VAT threshold is in Poland from the Ministry of Finance's website. How many clicks away from the homepage?]

It was not always thus; compare today's English with the language as used in Victorian times. Here's Charles Dickens, in full flow; from Dombey and Son (1848): "The Major, standing in the shade of his own apartment, could make out that an air of greater smartness had recently come over Miss Tox's house; that a new cage with gilded wires had been provided for the ancient little canary bird; that divers ornaments, cut out of coloured card-boards and paper, seemed to decorate the chimney-piece and tables; that a plant or two had suddenly sprung up in the windows; that Miss Tox occasionally practised on the harpsichord, whose garland of sweet peas was always displayed ostentatiously, crowned with the Copenhagen and Bird Waltzes in a Music Book of Miss Tox's own copying." This is a single sentence, composed of 104 words. Churchill and Orwell's legacy to the ages is that English literature will never revert to Dickensian logorrhea.

I reach for Moni's copy of Zadie Smith's White Teeth (2000). Crisp prose. No waffle. Average sentence length around 24 words, two lines of 11/13pt Monotype Dante.

The reader of English today – for whatever purpose, business or pleasure, expects that the author will make the effort to make themselves understood. It is no longer the duty of the reader to try to unscramble the author's intent. Writing waffle has become unacceptable.

So – when translating from Polish (where clear writing is not well established) to English (where it is an imperative), how much onus is on the translator to improve the author's original clarity of thought in the source language?

If the intended recipient is someone from Britain, accustomed to clear sentence structure based around a strong verb, will a direct translation of a Polish sentence into English have the intended effect on the reader? A call to action?

From the website of one of Poland's 14 Special Economic Zones... "Following the submission of the Letter of Intent by the Investor as well as its verification, the Zone Manager publishes an invitation to tender (if the tenderer applies in total for a Permit and the acquisition of rights to the real estate or other assets which are located in the Zone) or an invitation to negotiations (if the tenderer applies solely for the Permit, having the legal title to the real estate or other assets located in the Zone, or holding a document which reliably proves the possibility of them obtaining such a title) in the daily international press, on the Zone's website and, possibly, in the foreign press." OK. 109 words. Dickensian. [By the way, where's the principal verb in this sentence?] Yet this is a faithful and accurate translation of what's on the Polish pages of this SEZ's website. 

Ale czy o to chodzi?

The target group of the above text, English-speaking managers of potential investors considering this SEZ, will subconsciously see this merely as proof that procedures for entering the Zone are onerous, formalistic and overly bureaucratic, and therefore probably a waste of time. And invest elsewhere.

My point is this. When translating from Polish into English, the translator – and the author – and the author's ultimate boss – must all understand that cultural barriers need to be bridged. In Britain it is not the sign of intelligence and education to go waffling on at ten to the dozen. Rather the reverse. Waffle is used by intellectually insecure people to hide their inability to think clearly.

And yet when I explained all this in Lublin on Saturday, I was met with some scepticism. "In Poland," one legal translator told me, with an entirely straight face, "clients expect their lawyers to write pages and pages of waffle. It's what they pay them to do."

Clearly then, it is high time for a Plain Polish Campaign. Educating both the writer and the reader as to the benefits of clear written and oral communication is essential. Language can be a source of competitive advantage for those countries that value clarity.

This time two years ago:
The demand for Park + Ride keeps growing

This time three years ago:
Cycle-friendly London

This time four years ago:
The end of the Azure Week

Tuesday, 21 October 2014

Bilingualism benefits the brain

A fascinating article on the Economist's website shows the importance of bilingualism for mental health. No only are native bilinguals better able to focus on mentally demanding tasks, but being bilingual defers the onset of dementia by an average of five years. Note: being able to remember a bit of secondary school Spanish does not count - for the bilingual effect to work, you have to be in a situation where you skip effortlessly from one language to the other on a regular basis. "The effects are weak to nonexistent for those who merely have a passable ability, infrequently used, in a second language", the article says.

Working in a totally bilingual environment, speaking English at home and Polish in the street, this is marvellous news. Good news too for my parents - still mentally as sharp as pins - who spent their working lives talking nothing but English; being immersed in English in the office and in the street while speaking Polish at home has evidently proved valuable for them both.

As I wrote the other day, Poles in general are rapidly improving their English language proficiency - and not only English - Poland has become a mecca for shared services centres for global corporates, because it's so much easier to find German, Russian, Italian or French speakers here than in, say, Bangalore. If you want to get on in life - learn another language - but if you want to live a longer, fuller, life - perfect that language and use it as often as you can. A 50/50 breakdown is ideal. I speak Polish at work (at the expense of my Polish colleagues who speak Polish at work and at home, though who are all able to speak excellent English). So hats off to my English-born colleague Paddy, who is spending all this week speaking nothing but Polish.

Much of the fun of being bilingual resides in those linguistic spaces where on language has a word for something, while the other doesn't - today I spent about ten minutes explaining the word 'fuss' to a student (if you are Polish and are unfamiliar with the word, see this post). When there's a word for which there's no direct translation, the fun starts. 'Cat' = kot, 'wallet' = portfel. But what equals 'fragile', 'reasonable', 'pattern' (as in 'I can see a pattern emerging here...'), 'imposter', 'to fail', 'to bully', 'grumpy', 'underwhelming', for example? The list is long. And were I blogging in Polish, there'd be a similarly long list of Polish words that the English language does not have a direct translation for (brakować, mieć pretensje, kombinować, załatwiać sprawę).

I've been bilingual since the age of three and half, when I started nursery school; armed with the words 'please', 'thank you' and 'toilet', I never experienced any difficulties acquiring English language skills, because my mind was young, and my facial muscles were able to adjust to the strain of extreme English vowel sounds. A huge advantage in life.

Are there any downsides to being bilingual? Until recently, researchers held that a child of above-average intelligence would benefit from being brought up bilingual, while one of below-average intelligence would be held back, confused and handicapped by bilingualism. This is now shown to be untrue - children with two or more languages have lifelong advantages bestowed upon them. Accident of birth in my case, but for my generation (especially those couples who were both British of Polish descent), those who took a conscious decision not to speak Polish to their children as they grew up are now seen as having taken away something that could have been very useful from them.

A personal story about my bilingual upbringing in 1960s West London here. And do click onto the labels 'English language' and 'Polish language' below.

This time last year:
Wine connoisseurs - or wine snobs?

This time four years ago:
Crushed velvet dusk in my City of Dreams II

This time five years ago:
Going North, the quick way

This time six years ago:
Glorious autumn dusk

This time seven years ago:
Last man voting?

Monday, 26 May 2014

Call it what it is: Okęcie

Flying home to Warsaw yesterday, it occurred to me that there's still a huge gap between the official and the vernacular. Despite the fact that over 13 years having elapsed since Okęcie was officially re-named 'Warsaw Chopin Airport', hardly anyone not employed by Polskie Porty Lotnicze (Polish Airports) actually refers to the place as anything other than 'Okęcie' [pron. Ock-ENCH-yeh].

"Okęcie, OK!"
Taxi drivers, local residents, Poles from other towns and cities still say 'Okęcie' rather than 'Lotnisko Chopina' (the genitive form). And they insist on 'Okęcie' with a vengeance. Look up 'Warsaw Chopin Airport' on Wikipedia and you'll find the following words in the article's second paragraph: "Despite the official change, "Okecie" ("Lotnisko Okęcie") remains in popular and industry use, including air traffic and aerodrome references."

Actually, in 2001, Okęcie was re-named Międzynarodowy Port Lotniczy imienia Fryderyka Chopina, (official translation: Frederic Chopin International Airport; literal translation International Aviation Port in the name of Fryderyk's Chopin). This was a name so clunky it had to be changed to Lotnisko Chopina w Warszawie (official translation: Warsaw Chopin Airport; literal translation Airport of Chopin in Warsaw) in January 2010 in the hope of gaining in popularity - it did not.

Celebrating its 80th birthday last year, the airport's administration had to keep quiet about the fact that the airport's official name does not enjoy widespread use, or that for 67 of those 80 years it was officially called something else. Maybe its to do with Mr Chopin being the son of a bloody foreign migrant with a difficult-to-pronounce surname.

In general, the names of few airports named after people have gained traction. Flying to John Lennon? Er, no, Liverpool, actually. Naming airports after people is so un-British. Tel Aviv - Ben who? Toronto -Enough already! Few Poles can say who Kraków's airport is named after (Shame on you!). Two exceptions - Paris CdG, and above all New York's JFK. Globally recognised. Given that Fryderyk Chopin's middle name was Franciszek, maybe 'Warsaw FFC' might catch on? (Or not.)

Helping to make things difficult is the naming convention. In Polish, the genitive form is used - Lotnisko Chopina is literally 'Airport of Chopin' or 'Chopin's Airport'. Adding the extra 'a' to a name that is globally familiar can be disconcerting to foreigners in Warsaw for the first time and seeing the name spelt differently on signposts and stations.

How does one pronounce it? The British pronounce 'Chopin' in a manner approximating to the French way - SHOW-pan. Or Show-PAN if you fancy yourself as an intellectual. But then add the 'a' at the end and you get - what? 'SHOW-pannah', 'Show-PIE-ner' or 'Show-pan-AY'? And how do Poles pronounce 'Chopina'? - Shoh-PEN-uh... This is all very confusing when you're in a hurry to catch your plane. The railways do their bit too. The English language announcement at W-wa Śródmieście talks of the 'train to the Warsaw SHOW-pen airport arriving at Platform 3'.

I'm in a bind over this one. I can understand the authorities' reluctance to backpedal, but Poles are sticking to Okęcie. Maybe rename it after another famous Polish composer? Certainly Wojciech Kilar would not make the shortlist. Or simply rename the composer of the Etude Revolutionaire or Nocturne in E flat major 'Fryderyk Okęcie'. Which I've started doing.

This time last year:
Three stations in need of repair

This time two years ago
Late evening, Śródmieście

This time three years ago:
Ranking a better life

This time five years ago:
Paysages de Varsovie

This time six years ago:
Spring walk, twilight time

Thursday, 3 April 2014

Should schools teach languages - or Language?

Were I to be raising children afresh, the question of which languages (other than Polish and English) should they learn next would be a difficult one. Parents in England, speaking only English, have a tough task. But anywhere in the non-English speaking world, the choice is clear – it must be English, the de facto lingua franca of Planet Earth.

The withering away of foreign language teaching in the UK on the basis that "Wherever I go today, Johnny Foreigner speaks reasonable English" is leading to a dangerously lazy insularity. But it's true - which language gives students the best return on the time they spent learning it? German? The British believe that "Germans all speak English". French? "A spent force." Japanese? "A good idea 30 years ago." Mandarin? "Too complicated". So the default setting becomes "no foreign languages at all". And the blinkers fall upon young eyes.

I offer a proposal for Britain's schools – radical and daring – which would at least prevent Brits from becoming dull monoglots and cultural hegemonists.

Children from first year primary right through to GCSE and 'A' Level should learn but one subject – Language. This course should offer, over the course of 14 years, a thorough overview of the major linguistic groups spoken on this planet, explaining alphabets – Roman, Arabic, Cyrillic, Hebrew, Far Eastern logograms – the main Indo-European linguistic groups, grammar, syntax, etymology, morphology, tone, the importance of context.

In other words - what language is, what languages have in common (doing words, naming words, describing words), what makes languages different (vocabulary, word order, inflections), and how we write in those languages. And the notion of lexical inadequacy – 'missing words' in one language that can be patched up with loanwords (Schadenfreude, chutzpah, déjà vu etc).

So, over the course of 14 years, seven in primary school, seven in secondary school, the pupil will have become familiar with the script and the sound of Mandarin, Arabic, Japanese and Swahili as well as being able to tell German from Dutch, Russian from Ukrainian, Czech from Slovak, Serbian from Croatian, Korean from Vietnamese and Portuguese from Spanish.

Learning basic phrases of use in travel or business – ordering a pizza over the phone or asking the way to the train station – in many languages, rather than being able to read Flaubert or Nietzsche in the original, is more useful in today's globalised economy.

I spent seven years in secondary school learning French. What remains with me to this day? Two quotes from Voltaire's Candide (Pour encourager les autres and il faut cultiver notre jardins). I never used French in my 45 years of working life. 

Rather than choosing one or two languages in great depth (which very few pupils do anyway), the emphasis should be on appreciating the diversity of human language and being equipped with a basic tool kit that gives a broad understanding of the building blocks of verbal and written communication.

This would give the edge to the English-speaking world; the rest of the planet's population would be busily learning English, while native speakers of English could all get to grips with the concept of Language from an early age. They'd never master any foreign language fully, but at least they would not find themselves fish out of water wherever they went, able to decipher a menu in Greek, recognise the Thai for 'fire escape' or say 'good morning' in Welsh.

I'd be very interested to know what you, dear reader, think of my proposal.

This time last year:
More moaning about Karczunkowska's pavement deficit

This time two years ago:
Architectural detail from Edinburgh

This time three years ago:
Spring explodes in Jeziorki
(+18C! Today it's around zero and snowing!)

This time four years ago:
Along the way for Warsaw's southern bypass

This time five years ago:
Quintessential Warsaw vista

This time six years ago:
Jeziorki on Google Earth

This time seven years ago:
Okęcie airport, our near neighbour

Friday, 2 August 2013

What's the Polish for 'sustainability'?

A capital joke that had 'em all laughing in England was about the kid with a GCSE in Kindness who's just got a place at the University of Boy George to study Diversity, Inclusivity and Sustainability. All buzzwords des nos jours, guaranteed to raise the hackles of reactionaries who believe that Britain has focused too much on these trendy theories and while drifting ever futher behind when it comes to international competitiveness.

I'd not come down too harshly on sustainability myself, for this is an important concept rooted in ecology. "Sustainable almonds from sustainable trees, sustainable honey from sustainable bees*". Let us not waste natural resources thoughtlessly. Indeed, let us not waste anything thoughtlessly. Fuel; food; friendship. Sustainability is about the long-term long term; we should squander nothing and think of the future; our great-grandchildren's future and beyond.

From the business point of view, sustainable growth is the antithesis of short-term increases in share price; it's about ensuring that the company is still around in 50 years' time for the benefit of its shareholders, employers, customers and suppliers, as well as the economy. And the environment should not suffer neither.

Sustainability is the antidote to short-termism, which is the alpha-male market-makers' way of getting rich quick at the expense of all of the above.

In other words, sustainability is good. But how do we translate this blessed word into Polish? I've mentioned this before, now to get stuck into the semantics. The usual term, zrównoważony, means 'balanced', which is only part of the story. I'm glad to see utrzymywalny offered as an alternative; trwały is not quite there.

Something that works this year, and next year, and the year after that - it's not just a question of balance - or is it? I'm very keen on balance. It's a hard concept to sell to the electorate or to the shareholders. If there's give and take on both sides, a genuine quid pro quo, seeing both sides of the argument rather than sticking to one's own point of view, you're more likely to get along for the duration.

Yet human progress to date has rather been driven by single-minded, strong-willed individuals, from George Stevenson via Henry Ford to Steve Jobs. They'd tend to dismiss sustainability and balance as bunk. But other strong-willed individuals such as Adolf Hitler, have dragged mankind back towards barbarism.

How wedded are China's rulers to the concept of sustainability, for example? More than one might consider at first glance. Our European experience of one-party states is that of dictatorships that blew over in a couple of generations. China can take the long-term view because it's been around for so long. Environmental protection is more important to a populous nation hemmed in by mountains and deserts than to one spread out across nine time zones (China's population density is 141 inhabitants per square kilometre; Russia's is 8).

I'm trying to do my bit; cycling to work or taking public transport, recycling my rubbish. Let's think a bit beyond super summer hols and a brand-new BMW and a bit more about the long-term future of our planet and our species. Let us then sustain, and abide.

* Can anyone tell me which 1990s UK confectionery advert this samples?

This time last year:
Last chance to see Amber Gold's billboards in Warsaw

This time two years ago:
The Twilight Rambler

Monday, 20 May 2013

A Life in Balance 11: Prescriptive vs. Descriptive

How do you say 'six hundred' Polish? Sześćset, yes - but how do you pronounce that? Most Poles would pronounce it 'Szejset' [SHAYset], when the correct answer is 'sześć-set' ['SHESHCHset'].

Correct answer says who? Prescriptivists, that's who. The folks who will tell you that 'to boldly go where no man has gone before' is wrong because it's a split infinitive, and that 'If I were a rich man' is correct because 'were' is the subjunctive form to the verb 'to be', while you can't say 'Me and John went to the shop' because 'me' is accusative and not nominative. (You can't say 'me went to the shop' so why say 'me and John went to the shop'?) 

A different point of view is taken by Descriptivists. They will say that if the overwhelming balance of Poles go around saying 'szejset', then that is what '600' is. People insisting otherwise are Canutes (incidentally King Canute's mum was daughter of Polish king, Mieszko I), battling spuriously against a rising tide of contemporary usage, and languages are living things after all. Descriptivists will happily accept txtspk ('C U L8R' = 'see you later') as part of the vernacular.

So - where to set the slider between 'thus it is and only thus' and 'anything goes'? This is where I'd put it...


If we go deeper, we will see that a tendency to the prescriptivist shows a leaning towards conservatism - trying to preserve the beauty and order of things as they are, red telephone boxes, 1960s architecture, Ikarus buses, use of liturgical Latin - while the descriptivists are happier with change, indeed want to press on with a world that's continually changing. If prescriptivists are inflexible stick-in-the-muds, descriptivists will bend with the wind blowing from wherever. See this excellent take on the debate in the Economist's Johnson blog.

Sześćset is difficult to say, especially after that number of millilitres of red wine. Szejset is far easier. And so linguistic evolution - or linguistic erosion - is continually taking place. But then if you accept 'szejset' as 600, what's its genitive if not sześciuset?

When I was a small boy, driving in the car with my father, I'd ask him 'Gdzie jedziemy?' (Where are we going?) He'd answer 'W aucie' ('in the car'). What I should have asked him is 'Dokąd jedziemy?' ('Whither are we going?') Now, the word 'whither' has disappeared from common English usage, and I must report that dokąd is heading that way too. (To see how words or phrases come and go over the centuries in several languages - sadly though not Polish yet, have a look at Google's Ngram viewer.) And here, things like 'Ms' for 'Miss'/'Mrs' or the singular 'they' are changes that I'm happy to go along with.

Obviously neologisms must follow human progress, otherwise we'll be unable to give names to new inventions. Note how the Polish for bicycle is 'rower' [from the British manufacturer 'Rover'] rather than the more Latin-derived terms 'welocyped' or 'bicykl'; this would have been determined by popular usage rather than by a committee of linguistic guardians like the Rada Języka Polskiego. 

Like any writer and editor, I take professional pride in writing correctly and in being able to correct mistakes made by others. I make my living from having that slight edge over the majority of the English-speaking world in being able to spot a verb of incomplete predication being incorrectly used (with an adverb rather than with a adjective) or knowing how to use apostrophes correctly.

But - a question for Poles - when does one finally accept FabRYka over FABryka or JAPko over JABŁko?

This is a tricky one, because neither 'anything goes' descriptivists nor fussy stickler prescriptivists are right; you've got to move with the times, but you must maintain certain basic rules without which all descends into chaos. There will always be those who look to set rules, by which all should abide. These rules can be useful, guiding us away from the dangers of Babel and linguistic anarchy; but they can also be restrictive, restraining genuine creativity. Once again, I refer you to another excellent Johnson blog post from the Economist - Shakespeare (whom descriptivists hold up as one of their own) was a veritable motor of neologisms.
Shakespeare ... self-consciously played with the language. He was so good at it that many of his innovations stayed in the language, whereas they would have struck his audience as either new and fresh, or odd, in his day.
The key word here is 'consciously'. You've gotta be, as reggae duo, the Jolly Brothers, observed, be a conscious man (or indeed woman) when toying with language. Explore the boundaries, play with the new, but do so with awareness. Don't break linguistic rules unless you are aware of what you're doing - and do so with good, creative, reason. If what you write, what you say, catches on, it becomes a meme, it spreads, it becomes the new rule. 'The old order changeth, yielding place to new'.

 I'd set the slider somewhere in the middle, but with a small bias towards prescriptivism; it is, after all, my bread and butter.

This time last year:

This time four years ago:
Why Poland can no longer afford to keep the grosz

Friday, 22 February 2013

Why are all the good historians British?


After work I popped by Gazeta Café for a meeting with two eminent British historians, both of whom are having their latest books about the Second World War launched in Polish translation. Antony Beevor (left) and Norman Davies (right).

The event was staged as a question-and-answer session, with both men offering their interpretation of the same historical point. Nothing greatly staggering nor novel in either's answers, until a question came from the audience. "To what do you attribute the success of British historiography? Why are the works of British historians so readily translated into other languages, compared to those of, say, French, German or Russian historians?

A very good question. Why indeed? Antony Beevor replied that he considers history to be "a branch of literature... From Gibbon's Fall of the Roman Empire, there has been a tradition of narrative," he said; the telling of the story is crucial. "European historians are more analytical then British professors, who write in an easy-to-follow manner. History is not science; it cannot be analysed in a laboratory; it cannot be objective."

Norman Davies concurred. "Antony and I were brought up in the same tradition - I went to the same college as Edward Gibbon (Magdalen College, Oxford). There is no conflict between history as knowledge and literature. At Oxford we were taught two things: one - you have to know your subject, and two - you have to be able to convey that knowledge. If you know your stuff, but can't tell it - it's useless. If you can talk well but know little - też beznadziejnie!" (At this point I should add that Norman Davies did the entire event in Polish.)

This is so crucial! It applies not only to historians but also to lawyers and indeed to any group of specialists who have to communicate to a broader public. Having taught Polish lawyers to speak English for many years, I can see that Polish universities do not appreciate the importance of teaching their students how to make their point, how to write clearly.

A propos of which, Student SGH points out that yesterday was International Mother Language Day, and  that if anything threatens the Polish language, its bureaucratic gobbledegook. In the link he sent me, there's a quote from the Mazowsze province governor, Jacek Kozłowski "Why say 'Uzewnętrznienie decyzji w stosunku do strony stwarza nową sytuację procesową', when you can equally well say 'Dopiero po otrzymaniu decyzji, może się Pan od niej odwołać'? (apologies to my non-Polish speaking readers!)

This time last year:
Central Warsaw, evening rush-hour

This two years ago:
Cold and getting colder

This time four years ago:
Uwaga! Sople!

This time five years ago:
Ul. Poloneza at its worst

Tuesday, 5 February 2013

Interpreting, translating and explaining

I admire the work of simultaneous translators, sitting in cabins throughout long and often technical conferences. Equally at home with renewable energy, healthcare reform or financial markets regulation, the interpreter will charge along at the speed of the expert speaker, rendering an accurate Polish (or English) version of the often-ad libbed speech, delivered in English (or Polish).

As a regular moderator of seminars, forums or conferences, I will slip on an ear-piece to the check the quality of what's being interpreted, and more often than not I will be amazed by what I hear. The sheer speed of the interpreters' minds, at being able to turn what's being said in one language into another, is impressive. I'm left thinking - I couldn't do that. "Such an elegant turn of phrase." "Wow! I'd forgotten that word!" "Goodness - I never knew that!"

So whenever I'm signing off a seminar, I always remember to thank the interpreters along with the organisers, hosts, sponsors, and speakers. Simultaneous translation is a high art, and simply knowing two languages does not mean you can do it. Years of experience are needed. I've met interpreters who've done Polish-English for heads of state, members of the Royal Family or prime ministers, and was struck by their humility; they stay in the background rather than try to let their egos shine. An interpreter trying to be a bigger star than the politician or business leader he's translating for will not go far in his career.

I haven't the aptitude to be an interpreter. Translating the written word is a different matter. It's not about instant, there's more time to reflect. My mind is not good at spur-of-the-moment; with me, the penny drops after a while. Whether it's articles or longer pieces, I enjoy the challenge; in particular getting the tone and nuances right. I'll let you into a little secret - these days, I start off copying and pasting into Google Translate, then I spend time getting it right, buffing and polishing the words until they shine. I only translate from Polish into English. My Polish is nowhere near good enough ever be the target language; for me it can only be the source language. Good translation is all about style and tone; the rhythm must be right in the target language. It must sound right to another native speaker when read out aloud. [Deeper thoughts about the subject here]

To translate might not require the same instantaneous presence of mind that interpreting does, but it should still be done quickly. No room here for etymological asides or historical diversions. Get to the point Mr Dembinski, turn those sentences around - we're not in a classroom here, this translation is needed now.

I have learnt that explanations are best left to your students, to the classroom. For those who are genuinely curious as to why it's this and not that, those who require deeper insight into the structure and meaning of language. (And here, more often than not, the internet is a great source of back-up knowledge.) At school, I was taught that there were five verbs of incomplete predication - to be, to look, to appear, to become, to seem. Nonsense! These are all indeed verbs of incomplete predication, but there's more than five ('to sound', for example). What's a verb of incomplete predication? You can't just say 'I become.' You must complete the sentence with an adjective; 'I become happy'. Why not 'I become happily'? 'Happily' is an adverb, adverbs describe verbs (I walk happily). But then 'to walk' is not a verb of incomplete predication... I hope I've explained that clearly!

Clearly. Clarity. Clarity is all - whether you are interpreting, translating or explaining. Communicating clearly what's in your mind to another person. If we could all do that well, the world would be a less exasperating place. Edit. Edit what you're writing - make it sharper, more to the point. And when you're about to speak - edit (in your mind) - get to the point, don't beat about the bush. All this, I have learnt. Or learned.

This time last year:
More than just an Iluzjon

This time two years ago:
Oldschool photochallenge

This time three years ago:
Warsaw's wonderful nooks and crannies

This time four years ago:
Viaduct to the airport at ul. Poleczki almost ready