Interpreting: October 2007 Archives

"It is one thing to read in medical school that the ideal doctor-patient-interpreter 'seating configuration' is a right triangle, with the patient and interpreter forming the hypotenuse, and another to recollect the diagram in a roomful of gesticulating Hmong toward the end of a twenty-four-hour shift" (272). The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down.

Interpreters face similar dilemmas when they move from the training ground to the field of independent practice. :-)

When a patient refused surgery for stomach cancer, "I had expected the resident to move heaven and earth to bring in a decent interpreter. instead, I found him in the Preceptor Library, his head bowed over four articles on poorly differentiated gastric adenocarcinoma" (273).

Interesting on several levels: that there was not an interpreter to begin with and/or that the point of crisis invokes the need/desire for interpreters. Also because we see Fadiman's priority (communication with the patient) in contrast with the resident's (learn more about this medical condition).

"At Harvard, all first-year students are required to take a course called "Patient-Doctor I" (significantly, not "Doctor-Patient I") in which they learn to work with interpreters, study Kleinman's eight questions, and ponder...conundrums..." (271)

Fadiman's commentary is on the primary of the doctor's role/personhood instead of the patient's. I am, of course, curious what the students are taught about working with interpreters.

Footnote, p. 266 on "sensitive bicultural interpreting" (photocopy).

"A middle-aged man in Merced, hospitalized for an infection, was asked by an interpreter who was filling out a routine nursing admission form whether he wished, in case of death, to donate his organs. The man, believing that his doctors planned to let him die and take his heart, became highly agitated and announced that he was leaving the hospital immediately. The interpreter managed to calm him and assured him that the doctor's intentions were honorable. The man stayed until his recovery a few days later, and a sympathetic hospital administrator, anticipating similar misunderstandings with other Hmong patients, fought successfully to have the organ donor box removed from the admission form." (264)

The way this passage is framed is fascinating. Did "the interpreter" ask the question, or did the interpreter interpret a question from the form that the hospital asked? Fadiman presents this in a common sense style, but this is a quagmire for interpreters at the level of theory and practice. When & how are we actors in the situation - as in agents with responsibility and accountability for outcomes - and when are we the ("neutral" or "passive") conveyors of other's actions/intentions? How does one distinguish these levels of interaction, when, why, and on the basis of what criteria? Did the interpreter violate the standard code of ethics about not giving opinions or mediate in a culturally-appropriate way? Had the interpreter erred in the presentation/delivery and needed to correct a misunderstanding that they had caused? The problem-solving of the administrator is also remarkable; such accommodations in order to prevent that kind of institutional/cultural clash are rarely undertaken, let alone accomplished.

Fadiman generated a list of "what ifs" that she presented to one of the health care providers, who "was less interested in the Depakene than in the interpreters. However, he believed that the gulf between the Lees and their doctors was unbridgeable, and that nothing could have been done to change the outcome. 'Until I met Lia,' he said, 'I thought if you had a problem you could always settle it if you just sat and talked long enough. But we could have talked to the Lees until we were in blue in the face - we could have sent them to medical school with the world's greatest translator - and they would still think their way was right and ours was wrong'" (259).

The conflation between "interpreter" and "translator" is problematic, even though this is a common sense combination. Technically, interpreters deal with spontaneous language production and reproduction (in speech or sign language), while translators deal with written texts (with the luxury of time for research and thoughtful consideration of parts in relation to the whole). In this context, the assumption may be between "interpretation" as tending toward paraphrase and/or the metaphorical, with "translation" invoking an attitude of literality (as if direct, exact equivalents ever exist).

One of Anne Fadiman's strengths as a writer is stating the culturally obvious in equal and unequivocal terms.

Of course medical practitioners in the US would not know "that when a man named Xiong or Lee or Moua walked into [their office] with a stomachache he was actually complaining that the entire universe was out of balance" (p. 61). It seems to me that one must be a believer in quantum level effects at the scale of the humanly perceptible in order to even conceive of such a possibility. Yes, there may be many linear (diagnosable, predictable and therefore curable) causes of stomachache, but who is to say definitively that those local causes and operations in the universe have absolutely, decisively, no relation to each other?

Much of what intrigues in Fadiman's story of a Hmong family's dreadful encounter with extraordinarily competent and skilled physicians are the breakdowns in understanding: the inability of worldviews to find means of expression even remotely comprehensible to each other. Some of the most poignant pathos are in those instances when mutual understanding was assumed - by one party or another, if not both.

The absence of interpreters mark the earliest and most common meetings between the Lee family and the US medical system. The complaint echos loudly, whoever has "the time and the interpreters to find out" the relevant system of beliefs of persons from another culture? (p. 61)

When no interpreter was present, the doctor and the patient stumbled around together in a dense fog of misunderstanding whose hazards only increased if the patient spoke a little English, enough to lull the doctor into mistakenly believing some useful information had been transferred. When as interpreter was present, the duration of every diagnostic interview automatically doubled. (Or tripled. Or centupled. Because most medical terms had no Hmong equivalents, laborious paraphrases were often necessary. In a recently published Hmong translation for 'parasite' is twenty-four words long; for 'hormone,' thirty-one words; and for 'X-chromosome,' forty-six words.) The prospect of those tortoise-paced interviews struck fear into the heart of every chronically harried resident. And even on the rare occasions when there was a perfect verbatim translation, there was no guarantee either side actually understood the other...'The language barrier was the most obvious problem, but not the most important...the Hmong simply didn't have the same concepts.' (p. 68-69)

This framing of different languages as "a problem" is, itself, a worse problem than the fact of language difference. Letting go the matter of duration (just for a moment!), the obviousness of language difference is merely the easiest difference to latch onto and blame for everything else that requires effort. In fact, having different concepts is "a problem" only to the extent that a desire exists to impose one concept over another, or one's version of a concept as more salient. The exigency of interpretation merely brings this natural process into unavoidable consciousness; it need not complicate the process of communication any further than is already typical (albeit conveniently unawares). I digress: clearly I value the co-creation of mutual understanding above the urgencies of haste, so-called productivity, and routinized/dehumanizing mass service.

Then there are the problems of non-assertive interpretation, such as the doctor who "would try to get an interpreter to ask a Hmong patient these questions [diagnosing pain], and the interpreter would just shrug and say, 'He just says it hurts'" (p. 69). Now, it may well be that there is no precedent for answering these kinds of questions, but this does not exonerate the interpreter from using their own bicultural experiences to creatively instigate a dialogue.

I made a faux paux the other day, responding to Martí Cabré. S/he (as I plunge headlong into another one!) copied a photo I took of an art installation in Istanbul last summer. I was curious. The photo is evocative and in fact reminded me of the struggle some of my juniors are having letting go of being told in order to risk reaching out on their own terms. When I clicked through to see Martí's post, I discovered text in a foreign language and - for some reason - assumed the language was French. I am not sure why, as I do have a passing familiarity with Spanish; had I looked I would probably have made that (just as egregious an) error. At least, my good friend the Wanokip tells me, French and Catalan are both Latin languages.

What I realized, heart-in-mouth, was that I did not "look." My eyes glanced over the unfamiliar script and bounced off, catching no friction. What would have held me was not (in this instance) any quality inherent to the language or the medium (internet computer screen). I was in a hurry. My mind was multitasking, not inattentive but distracted, cast in multiple directions.

Martí kindly provided a synopsis in English:

I was frustrated because my server could not access the blogs area. Everything was fine but the blogs. And I had things to say. I had a need.

So this made me thought about the fragility of communication (the title). We are used to communication in one way (like in TV) where the bond with the viewer is based on the constant stimuli. This is similar to some Internet contents and specifically blogs, where the voidness of the contents is concealed by the amounts of smalltalk.

I try to write things with some sense so some feedback is needed with the readers, to keep learning myself about what I write. It is too complex to be one-way. I need the other side. And if I write sporadically this bond is weak. And if my server does not allow me access to writing, a frustration arises.

This is the content of the text. And, of course, it relates as a metaphor of human communication and your image was perfect.

When I first clicked through to Martí 's site, I was guilty of my own dependence upon "communication in one way": I needed English. (Is this similar to my students expressing the need for oral - not written - instruction?) Certainly I appreciate the desire for feedback, for interaction, for engagement with the complexity of learning ourselves and learning more about subjects of interest. Just this morning, Jose and I discussed leadership as feedback that helps a person adapt...good teachers invest in giving feedback that enables students to adapt.

Martí included links to information about Catalan. Another commenter just provided some sources concerning Esperanto in response to a recent post: No Mother Tongue? Is this an example of (quantum level) relative synchronicity?!

Catalan, language: wikipedia entry
Catalan, people of: wikipedia entry
famous Catalans: wikipedia list

Esperanto, university program website: Esperanto ĉe la Universitato de Roĉestro
Estimated number of current speakers from Ethnologue (which describes Esperanto as "a language of France).
Hoss suggests: "A good scholarly starting point is "Esperanto: Language, Literature and Community" by Pierre Janton." I found a review in Esperantic Studies Number 4 Spring 1994.

Anne Fadiman's "in" to a Hmong family's view of their tragic encounter with the U.S. medical system was accomplished via two crucial individuals: an American psychologist and a Hmong-English interpreter. Dr. Sukey Walker explains why the Hmong community respects her:

"The Hmong and I have a lot in common. I have an anarchist sub-personality. I don't like coercion. I also believe that the long way around is often the shortest way from point A to point B. And I'm not very interested in what is generally called the truth. In my opinion, consensual reality is better than facts." (p. 95)

"Consensual reality is better than facts" strikes me as a way of articulating the value of intentional, conscious co-creation of meaning. Dr. Walker's crucial advice to Ms. Fadiman is to find a qualified interpreter:

"...in [Dr. Walker's] opinion," writes Fadiman, " someone who merely converted Hmong words into English, however accurately, would be of no help to me whatsoever. 'I don't call my staff interpreters,' she told me. 'I call them cultural brokers. They teach me. When I don't know what to do, I ask them. You should go find yourself a cultural broker." (p. 95)

May Ying Xiong was not trained by the interpreting profession, which might be why she was able to act more as a cultural broker than a code-of-ethics-abiding professional. ASL interpreters, for instance, are explicitly forbidden from giving advice during interpretation. The roots of this rule was the need to end paternalism between non-deaf interpreters and deaf individuals who were (and sometimes still are) stereotypically-perceived as less competent at understanding and/or negotiating their way through communication to good decisions. The rule has served to reduce paternalism, but - like many rules - prevents many of other actions too. For instance, answering such as question as "What do I do now?" would be a blatant violation of the national certifying body's Code of Professional Conduct: "Refrain from providing counsel, advice, or personal opinion" (Illustrative Behavior 2.5).

Interpreters are criticized by institutional representatives for any kind of presumed advocacy on behalf of the minority language user. This dynamic is most visible in legal situations, and adversely affects immigrants much more so than members of established minority-language communities. The travesties of miscommunication which heap more violation, degradation, and pain upon refugees and asylum-seekers leap to mind. If only more members of dominant language groups would ask how to proceed, rather than assuming that they know!

In keeping with Kenneth Burke's mission to purify war, the use of social science to shift problem-solving from violence to conversation is a welcome development.

Burke says, "language... [is] the 'critical moment' at which human motives take form" (from GM 318, in Kenneth Burke: Rhetoric, Subjectivity, Postmodernism by Robert Wess).

Army Enlists Anthropology in War Zones, a feature story from the NYTimes, has demonstrated the "ability to understand subtle points of tribal relations," enabling soldiers "to focus more on improving security, health care and education for the population."

This kind of humanitarian army is the cooperation that our world needs. We must learn to eat with our enemies. Liberal leftists (I assume?) are criticizing the experimental military program for institutionalizing yet another way to coerce local peoples to accept occupation. My initial lean, however, is that the military does not "'yet have the skill sets to implement' a coherent nonmilitary strategy," as explained by United Nations' official Tom Gregg (download a Real Audio interview by CBC radio, June 2007). One of the critics, Roberto, J. González, might characterize himself as an empowered critic of western domination. He is of course correct that the military machines have deviously misused social scientists. Are we not, collectively, less naive now than in history? Perpetuating the same old oppressive frameworks through social criticism is as devastating as popular propaganda.

Rhona Trauvitch complicates the usual equation that the first language learned establishes cultural ways of thought. Her spoken English rarely evinces signs indicative of a non-native user, although the trace of an accent suggests she did not learn English in the U.S. or United Kingdom.

We spoke after our professor promised to make her famous. Stephen introduced us to the thought of Matteo Bartoli, the figural teacher of Antonio Gramsci.

"Bartoli says all languages are the result of sociocultural conflict. Words are in competition with one another; words and languages are grammatical structures in competition with each other and cannot coexist: language is a battleground. There is always conflict between languages, and conflict within languages. Conflict conflict conflict, that's what language is and what language is about. Words are always vying for position in language. [Bartoli] does not mean disembodied words, but that what we are doing in language is deciding 'what will be the word for this? what will resonate?'" {From notes typed during lecture.]

Bartoli called his work neolinguistics, and then spatial linguistics. His phrase, "pattern of irradiations" caught my attention. Whatever the limitations of mathematical thinking (particularly its assumptions of permanence and predictability), physics is an amazing metaphor for human relations. Why irradiation not radiation? My own simplification: Radiation is the (natural) medium; irradiation the (man-made) use/effect. The term is applied in risk communication regarding food safety, industry (e.g., manufacture of foam, insulation, jewelry/gemstones), and medicine. Specificallly, irradiation refers to a process of ionizing radiation intended for a purpose, explicitly in contrast with the normal backdrop of daily exposure to background radiation.

In the context of this graduate seminar, Language as Action and Performance, Bartoli's combination of geography with language use is a revolutionary conception of how language makes human interrelations visible. The patterns of linguistic survival illustrate material conquest, yet - even more so - when one stops using the mother/native tongue, abandoning the cultural language in favor of the dominating language of power, then one has truly conceded to colonization. Ouch.

We spent some time discussing solutions (from Gramsci's view, linking with Bakhtin and Burke) to the dilemma of needing to learn the language(s) of power in order to work within them to preserve one's own heritage language(s) and the worldviews and wisdoms they contain. During class discussion, Gramsci's abhorrence of Esperanto was raised. His objection is rooted in the fact of Esperanto's formal rules: its refusal to accommodate innovation - the natural flexibility of languages to adapt and grow in accordance with human experiences. Rhona's moment of inspiration was describing Esperanto being "born a dead language." Her logic was comparing its rigidification to the stale preservation of languages no longer spoken - preserved only in ancient texts.

This particular session was one of the best to date. The subjectivity of my read is based largely on the subject matter: grasping ways of conceiving of languages (specifically when, how, and where they are used, by whom) as a way of mapping power relations and imagining how the continued use of diverse languages is a necessary and vital corrective to entrenched hegemony.

~~~~~

Rhona presented Flying Through Walls: Magical Realism in Literature and Advertisements this past April at Cross-Over Arts: Intermediality, a seminar in Puebla, Mexico that she attended with colleagues from the Comparative Literature Department at UMass Amherst. She placed 91st in her age/gender class in a 10km Road Race in Athens, 2005.

Professor Stephen Olbrys Gencarella is (among numerous accomplishments) a co-signer of a letter to Lingua Franca in defense of Folklore, co-author of Working with Tradition: towards a partnership model of fieldwork, and is a member of the editorial board for Liminalities: A journal of performance studies. Stephen describes his pedagogy in The Ivory Tower, Apathy, and the Art of Citizenship (available as a pdf from Best Practices).

I have always felt that the action most worth watching is not at the center of things but where edges meet.

Anne Fadiman. The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down.
1997. (Preface, p. viii.)

The Review linked above does criticize Fadiman for overromanticizing some aspects of Hmong culture, history, and customs; what reviewer Mai Na M. Lee calls "the bigger issues." In particular, she criticizes Fadiman's conclusion that Hmong are "differently ethical." The phrasing itself is curious, requiring some serious parsing. The way I read the phrase, Fadiman is asserting that ethics are as foundational and valued among the Hmong as within any people. The use of "differently" (instead of the starker label of "different") - refers to the ethics being performed or based "in a different manner." It seems to me this opens up comparision on the basis of more, rather then less, similarity. Dr. Lee did not read the phrase this way, interpreting its meaning as more distancing (differencing?) than joining.

Dr. Lee has the benefit of context; I have not yet read that far. There is a Bakhtinian movement discernable here: the counterplay of centripetal and centrifugal forces in the utterances of Fadiman's book and Dr. Lee's review.