February 2009 Archives

There is only one scene that is too tidy in Gran Torino. It seems unlikely to me that after committing murder, gang members would hang around waiting for arrest by the police. But this is part of what gives the film its essential Americanness: in the midst of tragedy, the glimmer of a happy ending.

Gran Torino is a study in control, depicting the redemption of an old man who - as a young man - lost self-possession at a crucial moment and did a terrible thing. All the characters cope with the consequences of history in contemporary U.S. society, from the mass displacement of the Hmong because of allying militarily with America against communism in the 1960s to the showmanship of angry young disenfranchised men playing it cool and dangerous on the street. The verbal aggression is shocking, especially the "man talk" of white men that is typically protected from such blatant public display. Parallels with ways of talking that are stereotypically associated with racial minority groups are not difficult to draw. Racial and ethnic labels can - and are - used to express affection just as readily as disdain.

Using anti-politically correct language is not an automatic barrier to developing relationships of trust and respect across cultural difference. Not surprisingly, young people are most adept at recognizing and codeswitching among distinct forms of address. For immigrants, this is well-documented: bilingual children interpret for their parents and grandparents, bridging differences of language while undergoing irrevocable transformations in identity. The little girl who interprets her grandfather's request to remove a wasp's nest is no different from the hearing children of deaf parents, except that her family has no recourse to professional interpretation services. The home maintenance scene is innocent enough, unless one knows the range of situations children can be forced to handle.

Adults cope as best they can, relying on traditional rituals of communication that may or may not translate across contexts and perceptions. Cultures are in contact and conflict: the contrast between the Kowalski's midwestern family dynamics and those of the Hmong family is stark. Despite, for instance, Walt's grotesque violation of cultural norms, family members and friends trust a teenage girl's intuition about inviting this crotchety mean old man for food and beer at a social/ceremonial event. Sue explains some of the cultural differences to Walt, whereas his own son fails to recognize his father's call for help. Walt's personal style of complaining about everything is mirrored in his son, and his self-centeredness is mirrored in his granddaughter. She has her eye on inheriting some of his belongings, and he has his eye on the physical decline of neighbor's houses spoiling his view from the front porch.

Annoyed as he is by feeling imposed upon by his Hmong neighbors, Walt finds a use for the regard he has unexpectedly earned. Grudgingly, but not unwisely, he also allows himself to change, to grow into the opportunities that the situation affords. Circumstances unfold, as they always do, along a mix of predictable and unpredictable contours. In the end, Walt generates the only possible peaceful outcome. He is able to do this not because he is skillful at anticipating or manipulating the passions of others, but because he understands intimately - from the inside out - that fear and threat combine explosively under certain conditions.

The story is a compelling achievement on many levels. As contemporary film, it captures all the volatility of race-based nationalism within increasingly transnational societies. Xenophobia is hardly unique to the United States, and the random violence that once seemed particular to the States is spreading even to Belgium. As a potentially culminating work of art, Clint Eastwood does not offer a one-size-fits-all solution, but he does illustrate a complex set of realistic models from which we can glean inspiration.

This is the best thing I've learned so far about the system of simultaneous interpretation in the Parliament! Ad Personam means the interpretation applies to the person. Here is an institutional counterpart to the established assignment of interpretation services based solely on group membership rather than individual requirement. I like discovering that, institutionally, the Parliament is a step ahead of my educational curve! The program is brand new, just past its pilot phase last fall.

Equal access to language facilities for Members of the European Parliament

12. Considers that 2010 should be a year when the utmost effort must be made so that Members of all nationalities and languages are treated equally in terms of their possibility to carry out their duties and all political activity incumbent upon them in their own language if they so choose;

13. Recognises that, in many instances and particularly at committee and group stages, restrictive deadlines increase the importance of negotiations among the main actors; stresses, nevertheless, the principle of democratic legitimacy through all its composite Members and their right to full multilingualism; therefore considers that this budget can and should be used to work towards this goal and find the correct balance between the multilingualism restrictions and the smooth completion of the legislative procedures;

14. Takes a keen interest in the question of multilingualism and asks the services for a presentation of the current situation and developments foreseen for 2010, including the application of the "Code" and possible room for further practical improvements, the pilot project on ad personam interpretation, including its criteria and usefulness for Members of different language backgrounds and also an overview of how the "physical barriers" to equal treatment (i.e. the absence of suitable meeting rooms, cabins etc.) will be eliminated over time; wishes to be assured as to how the new Parliament will be better equipped in all these matters compared to the situation for Members arriving with the last enlargements;

15. Is also of the opinion that all means must be sought to increase the flexibility of interpretation as a crucial step to ensure good working practices and notes that, in many instances, problems and financial wastage could be avoided if there were a possibility to swap languages at short notice depending on the actual attendance at meetings rather than the planned attendance;

Luiza could not believe her ears. "We're on the grounds of Fontainebleau!"

"What now" is a question I borrow from curricular design, social justice style. First cover the what, then the so what, and finally now what. What is the subject matter? Why should we care about it? How are we going to use this knowledge?

I was ready for three days in France, away from the halls of the European Parliament and the concentration of stimulation. "Scientists," Luiza quoted the director of her thesis, "throw away the most interesting stuff!" I needed the change in place for perspective, knowing that whatever I encounter has the potential to enhance or distract my focus from the essential elements and determinative dynamics of the system of simultaneous interpretation in such a concentrated center of global influence. "What do you think of France?" she asks me. I cannot give a discrete answer: I am treading water, immersed in a sea of history, currents of contemporary discourse, and Jeanette Winterson's The Stone Gods. The evidence, I think, displays a need to worship and the desire for control.

This is not unique to France, of course - it is the story of Europe, perhaps of homo sapiens.

Upon return to Luiza's mod flat, I retreated from the day-trip's high-speed (time)travel to recharge my introvert self. I soaked up the smell of melting then baking chocolate, absorbed the sounds of Dvorak's cello concerto and Yann Tiersen's juxtaposition of strings and piano (Sur le fil), wondered at the juxtaposition of Flemish musical history with Romania's inability to develop (so-called) high culture ("we were too busy being invaded"), and read:

'Is it to be believed . . . that an island abundant in all things necessary has been leveled to this wasteland through the making of a Stone God and then by his destruction?' (2007, p. 133)

Who builds in stone wants to be remembered; no other monument lasts so long or so well. Yet people (governments, organizations, groups of all kinds) also try to fix social reality - relationships, communication itself - as if hardening the rules will determine outcomes, enabling the assertion of final control by banishing all possible space for anarchy.

We hash over linguistics while we eat: attempting to digest the cognitivists, distributionalists, generativists, structuralists, psycholinguists, and sociolinguists all at one go. We sleep. (No one reports dreaming.)

The Islamic Arts Department of the Louvre is closed, so I opt for Near Eastern Antiquities. I learn about the land "between rivers" (Mesopotamia), known to us through the "archeological fortune" of remains from Girsu/Telloh and Mari and (particularly) the reign of Gudea, who poses in all statues with hands piously held across his heart. In one statue, Gudea holds a "gushing vase" from whence stream fish, invoking Geshtinanna, "the goddess of the reviving water."

I note references to Ishtar and Inanna, figurines of women, and circles. I am fascinated by the "oscillation tendency" of the city of Susa to be both "the eastern extension of Mesopotamia" and "the western expression of Iranian mountain civilization." I am as repulsed by the ancient rite of hierogamy as Luiza was by the relatively recent public birthing of royalty. The art of engraving stones, by the way, is called glyptic.

Then, we tiptoed through the Tuileries, sauntered the length of the Avenue de Champs-Elysees to the Arc de Triomphe, past Place de la Concorde, La Madeleine, Napoleon's burial site at the Dome des Invalides, and Grand Palais. We failed to find socks but did stop for sweets at Paul, before heading to The Lab.

The Lab is a treat. Jose dives into musical history, demonstrating how each of the old instruments work and explaining the way scores were written. We even get to see one of the earliest precursors of today's synthesizer. Then we walk through a quiet residential area, hearing birdsong en route to the Eiffel Tower - another impressive artifact of manmade worship. From viewing angles underneath, it looks like a spaceship. How many wonders can a single day hold?

We passed the Pantheon (smart dead people buried here) on the way to dinner (which was absolutely scrumptious), and afterwards the fountain at Place Saint Michel and Notre Dame. Charlemagne looks like the WitchKing of Angmar; there were many times these past few days when I felt as if the statues atop eaves looked down on us mere mortals with bloody demand. How does it come to be that a quote by Napolean accompanies Barack Obama on the cover of Vanity Fair? Riding the Thalys back midday, I read:

"the regrettable acts of war . . . to the broken and the dead, the wounded and maimed, to the exploded and shrapnel-shattered, to minds gone dark, to eyes that have seen agony no tears can wash away, it hardly matters that the dead language of war repeats itself through time. The bodies that can say nothing have the last word" (p. 233-234).

I wondered where we were, as the train hurtled at top speed across a plain toward France's border with Belgium. What "regrettable acts of war" had occurred here, and what can be done to ensure that such "regret" becomes a thing of the past rather than a recurring motif of human history? I know the notion is counterintuitive, but interpreters - professionally trained, 'conference' and 'community,' of any and every language combination - are poised at a liminal opening to societal self-organization that structures difference and equality within the most basic component structure: that of language-based interaction between human beings.

Continuing to gaze out the train window I see the first fresh hints of spring; the trees tinged bright green appear aglow. Earlier, Jose had noticed that the conductor addressed passengers in the language of their destination. The only way to avoid war will be to intertwine economies and social relations so densely that no class interest can benefit from disruption. To keep the system vibrant, differánce must be celebrated in core institutional processes.

I was introduced in this Coordinator's Meeting as a researcher looking at "how we can cope with our language system." This is the first time I've heard someone here characterize my research: that statement boils it down quite nicely!

Coordinator's meetings occur just prior to Committee Meetings with the goal of delineating in advance the lines of engagement from each political group in the imminent debate. Every political group selects an individual to become the group expert on work being done in each of the Parliament's permanent or temporary working committees. Someone (an MEP not present in this meeting) likened the role of a Coordinator to the position of a political commissar in the old Soviet system.

In this particular Coordinator's meeting there were six men and eleven women from various countries, no simultaneous interpretation. The Chair (a position that rotates among the Coordinators - at least in this case) provided an overview of the agenda and invited questions and input. Not everyone spoke, but of those who did their English was readily understandable despite accents, except for one person whose accent became more prominent for a few phrases. In my notes, I recorded this incident as "lapsed into thicker accent, hard to follow (for me)." I remember that I was listening without extra effort, suddenly lost comprehension for a brief span (probably less than ten seconds), and then the words became distinctly audible again. I was not taking content notes at the time, which is why I added the caveat "for me" - someone who was really following the message, and/or knows this person well or is used to their style, and/or knows the topic in detail, may not have experienced a comparable disconnect. No one asked, so I have to presume I was the only one who struggled in that moment - or that there is a culture of not asking, or some criteria as to when one asks and when one does not ask.

A Coordinator provided some background on dynamics between his group's Shadow Rapporteur and the Rapporteur of one of the Reports on the agenda, explaining that there is deviation from usual practice in terms of procedures (respective to the field addressed by the report) and that the Rapporteur is not engaging with the Shadows as much as last year's Rapporteur had done, which this Coordinator characterized as "strange."

Note: The role labels are fantastic, aren't they? The Rapporteur is the person responsible for writing the final Report, which means he or she must coordinate the organization of required data and - especially - the negotiations among the different political parties about differing viewpoints, strategies, and concerns. The Shadow Rapporteurs work as liaisons between the Rapporteur and each political group. As a team altogether, the Shadows and the Rapporteur work out kinks or at least clarify exactly where the sticking points are and what they consist of. The Shadows are specific liaisons from a political group to a particular Report, whereas the Coordinators are liaisons from the political group to a Committee as a whole. (Right? Usually Coordinators are not also Rapporteurs or Shadow Rapporteurs, but sometimes two roles may be assigned to a single person.)

The Coordinators specified what's missing in the current version of the Report that still needs to be addressed, emphasizing the stance of their political group and pointing out which areas are sensitive but nonetheless need to be pressed. A particularly harsh criticism from . . . (I think it was from the European Commission, who is an institutional partner in the crafting of legislation) . . . was noted as "not balanced" and "unacceptable." In short, "we will have to make many amendments."

Another topic was highlighted by the Chair as the one that might become "the most politically sensitive." It was unclear to me, later, whether this same issue was characterized as "the hardest topic" or if that description was being applied to a different - although related - matter. Some praise was given for previous accomplishments that can now be built upon. The praise may have been prelude for mentioning an area that will prove challenging: "I know we won't agree on this, but I put it out." Background information was added on "an on-going thing, not here in the report. I tell you in case it comes up in discussion . . . we fear the usual suspects will bring it in . . ." and an assertion that the point-of-view of those most closely involved is that "we feel no foul play." Finally, a new/breaking concern was shared, including references to previous similar situations and the warning, "this will be the hottest topic for the next months."

While the general conversation was conducted all in English, there were a few side conversations that occurred periodically around the table in other languages. No one was perturbed; I noticed these asides because of the dilemma that kind of interaction sometimes poses for signed language interpreters... when a side conversation is loud enough for many in the room to overhear, do you interpret into signed language so the Deaf person(s) present are privy to the same information? And (more sticky, given the general imbalance of power), do you interpret into spoken language the side conversations among Deaf persons that can be seen and understood by other signers in the room? The twin dilemma of accessibility/power centers around the interpreter's forced choice between the general conversation and the side conversation: which is most important/relevant to be conveyed? Is the interpreter the individual best suited to make this judgment call? And - if not the interpreter, then with whom does the responsibility rest?

As with the Intergroup Meeting I observed, the absence of simultaneous interpretation did not seem to adversely the communication of the group in the immediate interaction, but I wonder about the ripple effect of the loss of contextual information to the interpreters which shapes the nuances and subtleties of the utterances they interpret. Interpreters can hardly orient an interlocutor's text to a precise reference point that the interpreter does not know is implied, such as:

• deviations from past practice


• predictions of political sensitivity or particular difficulty


• issues not in the report but expected to be raised


• perceptions or conclusions regarding those issues


• the intended target of amendments being the continuation of an historical stance or to soften criticism or to provide balance

(BRUSSELS) - The 27-nation European Union, with its 23 official languages, is facing an imminent shortage of interpreters, with English-language linguists at a premium, officials warned Thursday.

While there is a need to find interpreters and translators from the newer EU nations of eastern Europe, it is the English 'lingua franca' which is causing the biggest headache to the European Union's executive.

"The European Commission faces a shortage of translators for a number of language combinations," the commission said in a statement.

"The situation is particularly worrying in the English language department because many officials who joined the commission in the seventies following the accession of the United Kingdom and Ireland are now approaching retirement age."

Brian Fox, director of the EU's interpreting department summed up the shortage, with interpreters present, to reporters in Brussels.

"Everybody says English is everywhere but we are having real problems finding English language professionals" to interpret during official speeches and to translate written items, he said.

"Everyone speaks English and the corollary is that the English don't feel the need to speak anything else," he complained.

EU Institutions will lose at least a third of their English language interpreters by 2015 due to retirement and about half in the next ten years.

The need for interpreters in the European Union is underlined by the figures.

Last year the service worked around 152,000 interpreter days -- "that's about 750 man years," said Cox -- with an average of 750-800 interpreters, some from a freelance roster, employed each day.

In order to tackle the problem, the European Commission's directorate-general for translation announced the launch of a campaign to attract qualified professionals to its translation operation.

"With this in mind, the English language department has already established contact with a number of educational institutions, government departments and language organisations such as the National Centre for Languages (CILT)," the commission said in a statement.

The commission will also boost its presence at careers events and job fairs, in particular across Britain and Ireland.

These are official meetings that occur among representatives of the different European Institutions and can include representatives from interest groups (I am not sure if they qualify as "lobbyists"). No interpretation was requested for the intergroup meeting that I was invited to attend - I understand that this is the norm. Participants in these inter-institutional group meetings decide on a language everyone knows, or can understand, or can bring along/send an assistant who does understand to provide a kind of personalized "interpretation," or simply take notes in their stead. (I do not mean to impugn anyone's language skills, but it seems important to preserve a distinction between trained, professional interpretation and the communication provided by someone who knows the languages involved.) In the case when no common language is available, then interpretation can be requested. If there is more than one language-combination necessary (for instance, if two Members are unable to manage in either French or English, and other Members do not know German, then negotiation ensues as to whether to provide German-French interpretation (because the Lithuanian and the Slovakian Member both have some German) requiring only one team of interpreters, or to provide both Lithuanian-French and Slovakian-French (requiring two teams of interpreters).

Have I got this more-or-less correct?

This meeting was run under Chatham House rules. The Chair announced this stipulation at the beginning of the meeting and returned to it during concluding remarks, saying how "fruitful" the meeting was under these conditions of non-attribution. Demographically, there were nine people present when I arrived and a dozen at the close, roughly two men to each woman, and a range of nationalities: French, Dutch, British, Portuguese, and Polish by accent or an identity statement, possibly a Finn too, although I am not sure. In general I had no trouble following anyone's English. Even the Member whose grammar displayed obvious characteristics of English-as-a-Second-Language was sensible - no one asked for a repetition or clarification, and I felt confident that I understood what was meant. The range of accents did require an additional element of concentration which could become tiring after awhile. In short, I did not notice anything in this meeting that seemed like an obvious reason for having used simultaneous interpretation (SI) instead of a lingua franca.

Nothing obvious.

The non-obvious is another story. In this meeting, criticisms were laid out in direct and unequivocal terms, such as, "We agree in principle but [the enforcement] is too weak to influence [the targeted group of people]." Confrontation was sophisticated, with the logic girding one institution's stance being de-constructed point by point in terms one would have to make an effort to misunderstand. "The will to hide a fundamental fact leads to obscure arguments." Attention was paid to what was missing as well as to what is present in the draft framework. The notion of "simplification" was identified as a term needing definition: "No one ever stood up and said I want things to be complicated, [this does] not equal watering down. We have to solve the underlying problems." "There is something wrong in the philosophy of the penalty," which is what gives evidence of a "fundamental untruth" and hence makes impossible, at present, an effective way to "explain down" to the most remote person to whom the framework regulations will apply.

A linguistic question came up only once - by way of curiosity - "how do you say 'width' in plural?" This is quite different than the example shared with me after the meeting by one of the participants, concerning a resolution some years ago concerning Israel and Palestine, in which the English version included the phrase, "withdraw from the occupied territories." This general statement allows ambiguity which is not possible in French, wherein it must be specified if one is referring to "all" or "some" territories. This linguistic difference, I was told, is itself a "source of conflict." (I would argue the opposite, that this language difference exposes a point of contention - political/emotional in this case, but it can be less volatile and amenable to various forms of creativity in other situations.)

What I kept thinking to myself during this intergroup meeting was that these are the decisive factors for the contours of debate: the core disagreements and issues of concern, as perceived/agreed upon by the primary interlocutors, which the interpreters only have access to as it occurs when Members address this topic in official meetings. Of course the interpreters can prep, but the documents do not spell out these lines of confrontation, only the particular stances of each group or Member as they come to the table.

Meanwhile, I was impressed by the high level of integrity demonstrated by participants in the room. I could not detect anything identifiable as the Hawthorne Effect - when subjects change their behavior because they are under observation. I got the impression that these people are thinking hard about how to design systems that accomplish what they are intended to, and are willing to invest the time and consideration necessary to come up with the most clarity and consensus possible on what that intention should look like on the ground - and how to write it so the law enables the desired outcome rather than something else.

Anne said this last Friday: she was teasing me that none of my friends collected the in-class paperwork for me. My Dutch continues to limp along...

Walking to the tram later that afternoon, I noticed someone had lain flowers at the foot of a statue that I had not paid attention to before. A bouquet on this regular day seemed incongruous, so I took a closer look.

Systems are composed and maintained by tensions of all kinds. With some skill - and a whole lot of luck - the thrust of these forces can be reconfigured with minimal violence. There may not be so many examples, but there are some.

The technical orchestration of twenty-three languages performed by Members of the European Parliament and the cadre of Simultaneous Interpreters assigned to generate spontaneous comprehension is nearly seamless. I sat on the floor during much of the Foreign Affairs Committee Meetings last week, observing communication dynamics concerning the use of languages and thus, the use of the interpretation system. Twenty-one of the 23 official EU languages (except Irish and Maltese) were interpreted, and two non-EU languages as well: the President of the Republic of Tajikstan presumedly spoke Tajik (he brought his own interpreter), and at a particular moment Mr. Konstantin Kosachev from the Russian Duma spoke in Russian (he came with a team of interpreters).

From my seat in the visitor's section, I watched, listened, collected ethnographic data, and thought about what was being generated: both in terms of the microsocial interactions among Members and as a product for mass-media consumption (the meeting was web-streamed ~ although the link for it is down, so maybe this feature is not currently functional? Darn.) For instance, I noted what languages were used, and (roughly) for how long. Here's the run-down, from least to most used during the 510 minutes I was present. All measurements and calculations are approximate.

0 minutes each: Bulgarian, Czech, Finnish, Italian, Latvian, Portuguese, and Slovak
2 minutes each: Danish, Estonian, Romanian, Swedish (.4 % each)
3.5 minutes each: Hungarian, Lithuanian, Slovenian (.7 % each)
10 minutes each: Greek, Spanish (2 % each)
16 minutes: Russian (3.1 %)
17 minutes each: German, Polish (3.3 % each)
19 minutes: French (3.7%)
20 minutes: Tajik (3.9%)
30 minutes: Nederlands (5.8%)
356 minutes: English 70%

Of the total time, 7% was given to non-EU languages (Russian & Tajik), while 23% was given to official EU languages other than English. If the non-EU languages are removed, then the ratio of English to all other official EU languages in this meeting was 3:1 (75%-25%).

All of the interpreters were in their booths ready to go at the scheduled start times, and none of them bolted at the end - even when the meeting went over the announced end time. When there were unplanned recesses or the meeting ended early, there was likewise no rush to get out of the booth. This gave a sense of the interpreters liking their work, their colleagues, and even the atmosphere. I saw a few instances of peer support during retour, which reminded me of working as a team in signed language interpretation where visual confirmation of accuracy is vital. Since concerns have been expressed to me about the process of retour, I was glad to witness it in action on a few occasions. (Retour refers to when a language not widely-known is spoken by a Member, requiring an interpreter who generally interprets only into that language to render an interpretation from it into one of the more commonly-known languages - such as English, French, German, or (sometimes, so I've heard) Polish - in order for the rest of the interpreters to re-interpret into their own respective languages.) Retour is definitely complicated but on the occasions of its use in the AFET meetings I did not notice any indication of distinction in the communication dynamics of the group as a whole.

Most of the labor of ensuring that the right languages get to the right users of those languages seems to be hard-wired into the technical system. Everyone has access to their own set of headphones. Whether or not they use them, and when, is a matter of some consequence, but I will say that the dang things hurt. No doubt one builds up earlobe endurance over time, and the skull adjusts to resisting their pressure, but I was happy to have chances not to wear them! Maybe my sensitivities are more tender than others? There are 27 channels: when a Member begins in a language you don't know, you simply tune your headphones to the channel of the language you prefer to listen to - Members have preferences and reasons for selecting this or that language of interpretation, depending on their own language repertoire, levels of fluency, and experience with which interpretation booths tend to produce performances that meet their criteria (all of which is for another post, one of these days).

If I was mainly concerned with the contents of what is being said, for instance, I would simply leave my headphones tuned to channel 2, which is the English booth. But I whizzed around quite a bit seeking to accurately identify which language was being spoken on the floor (there are few that I recognize by sound, and even those I have a feeling for can be deceptive: sometimes, for instance, Dutch sounds like German and vice-versa). The only thing that was managed live by the hardware technicians (as far as I can guess) was syncing the interpretations of Tajik and Russian from booth/channel 23 to channel 2. (I am sure they are also working with recording and webstreaming but these activities do not affect interactions on the floor among Members in real time.)

I did notice some behaviors characteristic of ignoring the interpreters, such as a couple of guys standing directly in front of the English booth as if there was no need for the interpreters within to be able to see the action on the floor. I suppose it is easy to assume that since the information is mostly auditory (piped through headphones), there is no need for supplementary perceptual information. Likewise, some interpreters-in-training got a bit carried away in one booth, pointing and laughing at something or someone on the floor. If you didn't happen to look up you'd never be aware, but if you did, that was a bit distracting. The glass is darkened but not opaque: you can see which particular interpreter is working by the little red light on their active microphone.

My thoughts as I considered the phenomenological experience produced by this system - especially in terms of broadcasting to a wider audience not physically present in the room - is that it has some parallels with what is described in the literature of online (computer-mediated) communication as cues filtered out. The summary I linked to mentions five different ways researchers have oriented to the different ensemble of communication cues in a technologically-mediated environment compared with face-to-face interactions in a shared physical environment. I think it is not too much of a stretch to make some inferences from that literature to the audiological world being created by all the separate language channels.

Nearly erasing the reality of many different languages being spoken in the room, the sensation of there being only one language present is the phenomenological reality being created and conveyed by the sophisticated merger of human simultaneous interpretation and electronic technical machinery. What goes out to the world, one could say, is stripped of multilingual character and given a monolingual essence. Even in the meeting room, if one simply keeps those earphones firmly in place, the simulation of a monolingual conversation can be produced. A person might remain aware there are more languages being spoken, but (it seems) one tends only to pay attention to the language(s) that one knows - or wants to know.

If the overall system worked less well, then the differences of the different languages would demand recognition. This, I am pretty sure, would ultimately be more democratic, more transparent, more equitable. In fact, there may be a means of using simultaneous interpretation proactively to help create the very relationship between the European Parliament and the citizens of Europe that EU proponents desire.

SUMMARY
Deaf children who in their daily life 'speak' mainly Dutch Sign Language have more difficulties writing in Dutch than deaf and hearing children of the same age who use no sign language. The graduating researcher of Nijmegen (the Netherlands) Liesbeth van Beijsterveldt has studied their writing mistakes. The different types of mistakes seem to be easily explained with the existing theories on learning a second language.

Sign language is not a language you can write. Therefore, deaf people who communicate in Dutch Sign Language (NGT) write in Dutch. NGT doesn't resemble Dutch at all. It has its own grammar and vocabulary, which is quite different from Dutch. Consequently, deaf children who mainly communicate in NTG have difficulty learning to write in Dutch.

At the Radboud University of Nijmegen, Liesbeth van Beijsterveldt has studied the writing skills of deaf children and adults. She has compared texts written by deaf and non-deaf people. In the texts of the deaf she distinguished between the deaf people who mainly speak NTG and those who mostly use Dutch. She discovered that deaf children who chiefly use NTG make more mistakes in their Dutch texts. In most instances, these mistakes can be explained by the NTG background of the child.

This text is written by a deaf girl of 11:
"Formerly I and my class quarrel with other class. That is not nice. Other child says. Mieke is stupid and always boss. Then says Mieke. That are you self. Then other children help on other child. Then my class help on Mieke.
Later go we inside. Then other children say on they teacher. Teacher of other class says on our teacher. Then must we not quarrel and also other children! Then say we sorry. Now quarrel we not, well bit not much. We can make up."

Evaluation
One can easily understand the mistakes that deaf children make in their Dutch texts if one knows more about Dutch Sign Language (NTG). NTG makes no use of articles. Consequently, the research work of Van Beijsterveldt also revealed that deaf children who used mainly NTG left out a lot of articles in their texts. These children also had problems with verb conjugation in the past tense. This is probably due to the fact that in their NTG the past tense is communicated with specific time signs (such as 'yesterday') and not with verb conjugation. These mistakes occurred less frequently with deaf children who mainly use the spoken language.

Another way in which the texts of deaf children who use NTG diverge from the texts of hearing children and deaf children who use no NTG is the expression of evaluation, meaning the information that is provided in the text about the emotions, thoughts and motives of the individual. NTG has more ways of expressing these than the spoken Dutch language. So NTG signers can change the direction of their gaze or the orientation of their body, adapt their signs as to speed or movement, or alter their facial expression. Consequently, deaf children who use a lot of NTG more often enrich their texts with evaluative utterances than the other children.

To be adapted
How well the deaf children wrote in Dutch seemed to be strongly related to their age. The older deaf children (15-16) who used NTG made many fewer mistakes than the younger ones (11-12). And the deaf adults no longer make these mistakes. "These results suggest that the influence of one language on the other decreases with maturation," the researcher says. Why this is so, Van Beijsterveldt can't explain with certainty. "It may be that being exposed longer to the two languages with different grammatical systems has led to more insight into both systems and rules."

According to the graduating researcher, these results point to the fact that the education of the deaf has to be adapted considerably. "I think that deaf children have to learn both languages as they do at present, but I think it is important that attention is given to the differences between the languages", Van Beijsterveldt says. "Teachers could explain to the children how the grammatical systems of both languages work and what the differences are. By doing this, they might help children to move more easily through the stage during which learning two languages at the same time can be confusing."

Liesbeth van Beijsterveldt will defend her thesis 'Written language production in deaf children and adults' on Friday 6th February 2009 at 10:30 in the auditorium of the Radboud University of Nijmegen.

"Are you blogging?!"

Patricia busted me right in the middle of Nederlands 1.2; I was taking notes on the confusion, even in the official language course, between languages. We are not being taught the local Flemish dialect, although Flemish versions sometimes appear in the midst of the officially-sanctioned Dutch. A French word had appeared on a worksheet instead of the Dutch term and the teacher drew our attention to it: this has happened before - not too often, but occasionally. I imagine that this is exactly how the languages are mixed in everyday use outside of the classroom.

Five of us from Cursus Nederlands 1.1 survived to 1.2 in the same classroom, same schedule, with the same stellar teacher. Six if Amin gets his act together and registers! Mahmoud got a job, Bouchra and Tolu have left us for higher levels - following Marse who is so far beyond us now we are lucky to get glimpses of her in the school cafeteria. :-) I am still celebrating the small miracle of passing the level one test!

My struggle with learning Dutch ("very hard for Americans," says virtually everyone) is somewhat similar to the experience of being on the outside of a conversation in a language I don't know, as occurred several times last week in Strasbourg. Usually the other language was French - and I am reminded of the strategic decision last summer to start learning French, and then the practical choice of choosing Dutch because my residence in Antwerp enabled me less-expensive access to high quality intensive lessons. Not that I've been able to take full advantage of the lessons - I may be lucky to consistently attend 1/3 sessions per week this term. During pessimistic moods, I wonder if I was wrong to have prioritized the lessons over tramping the halls of Parliament last fall.

The social (and socializing) function of being with my fellow students in the cursus Nederlands, however, is vital for my sanity. Some of it is pure silliness, such as learning that Topi wears insulated socks (!), and some is wonder at the diversity of human experiences represented by our particular biographies. Marinella, for instance, saw the world as a youngster doing competitive sportshooting before moving from Bulgaria to South Africa for 19 years prior to her arrival here in Belgium.

I also admire the curriculum, and the ways Anne delivers it. Level 1.2 zeros in on two crucial skills: listening and grammar. I was annoyed and grudgingly impressed by the audiotrack we listened to (for answers to fill-in-the-blank questions on a handout) for including a low-level music background track. It was totally distracting - which forces you to concentrate while mimicking life in the real world, where there is always background noise of one form or another. As for the grammar, well, Topi was elegant as usual: "Dat is speciaal." Patricia agreed, "Moelijk!" The entire array of language-learning services is impressive. Amin was very excited about all the resources he had learned about from Atlas, a social service organization whose mandate is to facilitate the acculturation of immigrants into Belgian society. (He enjoyed his appointment with Natalie, especially her enthusiasm.)

In terms of the research project that brings me to Belgium, having one foot in the community of everyday people and the other in the elite reaches of European governance helps me maintain a holistic perspective on the research objectives. How do attitudes and experiences with simultaneous interpretation serve as a lens for comprehending the role of language in Europe today? Is it possible to locate and describe how present-day policies and practices may play out over time? I believe it is possible to make some predictions, because the information about how current policies are affecting current practices are readily available - if we choose to recognize them.

Or are perceptually attuned to recognize them - which is the first matter of concern. Not only am I experiencing the limitations of my own mind to take in and process new information, but I am also observing non-verbal and discursive evidence of other people's inability to either perceive or process new information. For instance, as I talk with Members (of the European Parliament), I am struck by how few of them have ever considered the system of simultaneous interpretation beyond echoing the usual litany of complaints and de rigueur compliments. It is not that they are un-thoughtful, far from it! Their responses when I question the practical realism of the expectations that inspire complaining are quite insightful. But some of the ideas I pose are outside their areas of knowledge - most of them simply admit this (a candor I find appealing and hopeful), some smaller percentage gamely go on along a path I find minor or tangential to my primary point (but nearly always in sync with a concern the Member had previously expressed), and a very few carry on in a way that leads me to suspect they are unaware that another way of thinking is possible.

I do not believe this is a matter of intelligence, at least not in most cases. I think it is a function of (lack of) exposure to different discourses. There seems to be only way to talk about simultaneous interpreting in the European Parliament; other ways of talking elicit responses ranging from curiosity to dismissal, from intrigue to risk - as if talking about interpreting is, in-and-of-itself, a threat.

Anyway, as other friends and I discussed last night, I have neither a magic blue diamond nor a genie to wish worries of "bad karma" away, only the goodwill of friends and those who do sense some value in the knowledge I seek to construct, even if my manner is clumsy as hell.

My sense of urgency about coming to grips with transformations within the field of possibilities for professional interpretation is promoted by various factors, some of which I hope are transient while others are reaffirmed on nearly a daily basis.

One of these days a chapter will be published concerning a dominant theme of interpreter discourse four years ago at the European Parliament, "A Discourse of Danger and Loss: Interpreters on Interpreting for the European Parliament." This year, Members of the European Parliament also refer to "bad English," but few of the Members seem actually upset by it. The neutral label is "Brussels English." The growth of a new argot arising from the interaction of various "Englishes" is inevitable; arguing against it is an outlet for frustration that does little to stop the erosive effect on conference interpreting in this exceptional house.

An announcement about interpretation was included in the "buro telegram" distributed within political group meetings last night:

In order not to prolong the chaos surrounding the 23 different official languages (largely underused) at ACP/EU meetings, a compromise has been reached between the General Secretariat and members of the assembly: translation will be carried out in 6 languages - English, German, French, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese (+ where necessary, the language of the Council presidency). Interpreting into a particular language will only be carried out if at least 3 of the MPs in question confirm their attendance at the latest 2 weeks before the meeting.

My attention is drawn to two features of the language used in making this announcement: negative framing and conflation. "The chaos surrounding . . . largely underused [languages]" continues the negative framing of simultaneous interpretation services in the Parliament (and, by extension, within the European Union as a whole). The conflation caused by using the generic term "translation" to refer specifically to the provision of simultaneous interpreters is a lapse in diction at best, a foreshadowing of the extension of this limited regime to the actual provision of translated documents at worst.

Meanwhile many of the Members that I've spoken with describe constraints on the provision of interpretation services to working groups and delegations, and most are unaware of an experimental initiative piloted last year aimed at providing "personalized interpretation" to rapporteurs. I wonder how many Members may have asked their respective rapporteurs to use this service in order to develop understandings, negotiations, and compromises on matters relevant to their Committee work? I am also curious where the interpreters are in promoting assignments to these smaller-scale venues? The absence of interpreters in the "compromise" statement above may not indicate their literal absence from those negotiations (via appropriate representation), but it certainly reflects the low regard given institutionally to their professional expertise: if they did participate in the decision-making process, this is not transparent.

Please note that I specify institutional regard in the preceding statement! Members are generally satisfied with the high quality of service that is provided by interpreters at the European Parliament and appreciate the incredible task of coordination organized by the Interpreting Directorate. As far as being a tool, the system of simultaneous interpretation in its formal deployment seems to function as well as anyone expects it to. My questions and concerns have more to do with the dynamics surrounding talk about interpretation, and how these dynamics reflect societal trends concerning languages and multilingualism in general.

For instance, I was struck by two behaviors of language use that I observed in the political group meeting that I was allowed to attend. Overall, three languages were primary - French, English, and Italian. I would estimate that each language was used for roughly the same amount of time. Turn-taking was orderly; every now and then interjections were made into a Member's speech, and on a few occasions there was a low-level background murmur as Members dis-attended the designated speaker to conduct private conversations with colleagues. The language of interjections did not always match the language of the designated speaker, nor was there any obvious pattern in the ways languages changed between speaker turns: sometimes Members used a language different than the speaker just before them and sometimes they used the same language as the speaker they followed. With more observation and attention to these details there may be patterns with significant implications. For now I will just mention the possibility of a relation between the two particular aspects that leapt into awareness as I listened.

First was the use of English to assert control. The meeting was called to order in English, and once most Members were paying attention the chairperson then switched to speaking in French. Later, when there was a spurt of quick interjections and repartee, the chair shifted back to English and continued in English, as did Members speaking from the floor, until the burst of energy was contained. English was used a third time in the group to overcome a rising tide of murmurs that swelled into the background during a Member's somewhat lengthy turn (compared with the average time spent speaking up until that point, again estimated rather than timed).

This last occurrence caught my attention, because it was the first time I heard this particular speaker use English instead of Italian. The vice-chairperson had already spoken several times. I had at first assumed she was speaking French (and perhaps some of her turns at the very beginning while calling the meeting to order were in French), but as I watched the working interpreters (behind glass in their booths overlooking the room) I realized she was speaking Italian. It was a bit of a departure then, when she took up her turn following the colleague's long statement and used a combination of the choice of English and a slight increase in volume to quiet the group and draw everyone back to the central, shared task.

Prior to the collective re-focusing of the group, I had noticed that the murmuring - which became louder and more pervasive than any which had preceded it - occurred while the language being spoken was English. As the side conversations increased I wondered - is there more permission and/or ability to be distracted during colleague's use of English than during the use of other languages that may require Members to use the interpretation services? I noticed that very few of those present had their headphones on during this particular turn, and of those that were wearing them it is difficult to confirm whether they were actually listening to the interpretation or not, as the headphones were worn half-cocked (one ear on, one ear off) and/or their attention was directed to a laptop.

I will need to observe more frequently to confirm the following intuition, as there are competing possibilities for the significant drift of concentrated focus, such as disinterest in the particular topic being spoken about or a disaffection for the particular Member speaking, to name the two most obvious possibilities. Perhaps my assumption that the side conversations were deviations from the official topic is completely mistaken and the murmuring constituted serious consultation with colleagues concerning the nuances of the issue as Members thought through their own stances in relation to it?

I think the matter is worth much closer examination, because if the Members were talking about other issues than the one officially on the floor, and the reasons were not explicitly due to the nature of the topic or the speaker, then something peculiar may come into view concerning English as a language of control:

• English is used authoritatively to command attention and


• English is most readily escaped as the locus of attention.

I speculate: is it possible that the widespread familiarity with English - which allows one to avoid the headphones (and therefore any/all interpretation) - also enables the drifting of focused attention? If so, then one of the reasons for choosing interpretation over un-interpreted listening is to enhance individual commitment to the group task.

Fill in the blank:

"What are you doing ___________(here)?"


in Belgium

at the European Parliament

in Europe

on the planet

It always sounds a bit pompous to respond factually, "doing research for my dissertation," or, alternatively, "trying to contribute to a more peaceable world." One needs regular doses of humor to balance out the serious nature of both motivations.

Fortunately I have friends who regularly remind me of the wide range of sensible and insensible interpretations people can draw from particular actions, both recognizing and teasing me simultaneously. For instance, just Friday I received a joke about self-referential interpretation, and was informed that my sudden bursts of energy are like air being released from a balloon. Not bad, I thought, imagining the rapid diffusion of air into the atmosphere as the spread of 'good stuff'. But no, she was referring to the propulsive effect on the balloon itself careening unpredictably in the manner of a ricochet on unseen updrafts, low-hanging fruit, unexpected corners and sudden potholes! (For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction?)

(ahem)

In social situations, I sometimes exaggerate the fact that people usually impose their own meanings on communicative behavior. If I want to join a conversation that is underway (or return to one from which I zoned out temporarily), I'll listen briefly for a few key words and then make something up, as if I know exactly what they're talking about but which I'm sure is rather far from what they actually mean. People who know me well will realize that I'm poking fun, whereas the responses of new acquaintances varies: some catch the joke, most clarify with an explanation, and a few give me a look suggesting they think I am off my rocker. (Always a possibility!)

I've heard it attributed to Freud that we tend to assume that other people understand what we say because we understand ourselves; a nice bit of projection that I often observe. Sometimes I even catch myself - the clue for me is when I have an emotional response that clearly does not match the circumstance, such as being asked for clarification, or when I interpret that the response indicates non-comprehension (wasn't I just perfectly clear?!) or otherwise going in a direction which I did not anticipate (Huh? How does that follow?!). That little emotional buzz is a cue to pay more attention to the meaning-making process. Most of the time I have no problem with being asked for clarification, and most of the time I am not discombobulated by a response that falls outside of expectation (or desire). These interlocutory phenomena keep life interesting and demonstrate the substance of what I study: that communication itself is a fluid process, with meanings in perpetual motion because of real differences between individuals and our respective orientations to the moment(s) of interaction.

The range of factors composing a person's "orientation" to a given communicative action or event is probably finite, but they can never be completely categorized - there are so many influences interacting with consciousness, habit, and perception. For instance: