Translation and the Simulacrum, or the Centrality of Perspective in Translation
Pierre-Alexis Mével & Ali Hocine Dimerdji
French and Francophone Studies
Perspective is essential in translation and translation studies. One might go so far as to say that perspective is in fact both a consequence of the process of translation and a de facto necessity. Indeed, translation does not merely involve a passage from one language to another, but rather, since languages are rarely – never? – strictly parallel to one another, it involves an ideological shift, a subjective transformation/alteration/transposition/translation (and therefore a displacement, a dislocation, and consequently a geographical change of perspective) of the original.
It is essential to note that this displacement is not only geographical, but also ideological, and more generally, cultural. The relationship between language and culture is one that has been widely explored (Kramsch, 1998). It can be said that language has a metonymical relation to culture, and that therefore, to a large extent, language embodies culture. In the process of translation, a change of language thus necessarily impacts on the culture that is being represented. What one ends up with, as a result, can always only be described as a perspective on the original text (also called “source text”. A metaphor that makes the original, not only, the origin, genesis, and starting point but also something one can literally draw substance from). This fact explains the need to re-translate texts again and again, in an attempt to get a new perspective on a text, one that is more in line with contemporary needs or aesthetics. Obviously, this is but a reminder that translating a text goes beyond a mere change of language, and that translation is almost invariably political, that it is always-already ideological, including in the choice of texts to be translated from one language into another.
Translations and translators seem to suffer (the word “suffer” is used here purposefully, and is meant to emphasize the relative lack of recognition of translators, and their problematic relation with authorship) from either contempt – it is a widespread belief that the original is always somehow “better” than the translation – or sheer indifference, and translators have even been described as historically “invisible” (Venuti, 1995), an idea that has never failed to provoke debate and controversy. The idea of translation stems from the belief that any language can express any idea that is expressed in any other language, which, when one thinks about it, is a pretty big ask and would defeat the very purpose of having several languages in the first place, rather than a single one that would be used by everybody. In fact, it only takes very little actual practice of literary translation to find out how problematic some ideas are to convey in another language.
Pushing the reflection further, this often accepted meaning of what the translation process is and involves, defeats translation as a discipline: it is asking the impossible. Languages are not equivalent, or paradigmatically parallel to each other, and the meaning of an original text often has to be challenged, altered or changed in order to make it work with the linguistic means that the target language offers, and ideally without compromising the style. These difficulties stem from various criteria: some words exist in one language and do not have a literal translation in other languages. Languages have developed great levels of syntactical complexity through the course of their evolution, and some concepts in particular cultures do not exist – or sometimes exist partially – in another. And this is where the concept of perspective becomes central to the act of translation about. As a translator, one has to try and find the best perspective, one that is ideally faithful to the original in terms of every imaginable criterion. The term best here is used as shorthand for best at this particular time, in this particular political, social, cultural, context, for the translator.
However, this is only possible insofar as the translator is not confronted by features that are, even remotely, culture-related. When having to deal with culturally-bound features – whether linguistic or conceptual – the translator usually has to choose between two perspectives, in order to preserve semantic coherence, and thereby the suspension of disbelief: one that domesticates the original, it brings it closer to the cultural sphere of readers in the target language (i.e. “euros” in the original become “pounds” for a text translated into English, for a British readership), or one that foreignises it, it makes the target text deliberately culturally alien to the cultural sphere of readers in the target language. So, the translator has a perspective on a text, that will in turn provide a perspective to the readers, or rather, readers will read the text from a certain perspective.
This apparent dichotomy, domestication/forignisation, is not a simple binary. It is a continuum between “bringing a text home”, and making it seem deliberately foreign. In other words, it is a question of more-or-less, rather than either-or. A translation is often leaning towards one or the other pole, and the risk of caricaturing the original always exists. This is why perspective is a concept that is absolutely central to translation: the translator imposes his/her perspective on a text. In other words, a translator is essentially biased (although admittedly, the bias is both necessary and in fact crucial for the outcome) when s/he is translating, and is forced to have a certain stance on a text. Whether this stance is conditioned culturally, ideologically, politically, or in any other way, is another matter – Lawrance Venuti says for example that most translations into English are domesticating, but in the end, this is the reflection of a national ideological approach to translation, which is besides the point here. The translator eventually imposes a certain way to read a text. Once accepted the subjective nature of the activity of translating, and to a certain extent of the very impossibility to translate, in the sense that the target text is not strictly identical to the source text, the focus for translation analysis shifts from the source text to the perspective of the translator. This shift of focus takes us to a point where we can begin to question the notion of authorship and wonder to what extent can the translator be understood to be, and seen as, the author of the target text.
These facts highlight the point that translation is by nature necessarily tied to the ideas of resemblance and difference. The idea of equivalence is one that is central to translation and translation theories, and that is essentially about mimesis. The text that is to be translated must resemble its translation. Although the translation is not the same text as the original, it must display structural properties that are similar, in one way or another, to those of the original to the point that the translation can evoke and invoke the original text. Although different linguistic means in different languages and cultural differences (culminating in shifts of cultural perspectives in translation) mean that a translation is not its original, the two (translation and original) are still very closely related: a translation does not exist without an original, they are like close textual relatives. However, a translation must also fit within the norms, paradigms, and conventions of the target language. This tension between two apparently opposing forces means that there is always a tension between a supposed resemblance to the original and a concrete necessity to “make a difference”, to be different.
There is an important tension that is exposed here between the original text and the translated result. A “good” translation must walk the line between fidelity to the original meaning(s), while making enough difference so that the text can be read in the new language. It is a question of making sense in the new language through playing on its specificities, cultural or otherwise, while not loosing the original intent(s) and connotations of the primary language. In other words, translation is always-already paradoxical. The translated text must always be more than a simple copy of the original, but cannot exist without this original and must strive to be as faithful to it as possible. It must deploy a set of processes that produce a sense of resemblance to the original, while being in fact built on and through the specificities of the translated language. The sense of resemblance must be the effect of the differential processes employed by the translator. Thus, the resemblance to the original is a result of a different internal set of relationships between the signifiers of the other language and culture. The concept of otherness is an interesting one when it comes to translation. Indeed, within the context of translation, “the other” can either be the original text and language, or the target text and language. This fact emphasizes the centrality of the concept of perspective to the act of translation. A translator is trying to simulate similarity through his/her use of difference as the primary force. A useful concept to explain this process and its result is Deleuze’s simulacrum, which he developed in both Difference and Repetition and The Logic of Sense. In a sense, it is useful to think that what the translator is creating is a simulacrum.
The simulacrum is a central concept for Deleuze in his early philosophy. He uses it in order to develop what he calls a philosophy of difference. He is interested in understanding difference as a primary concept and not as a lack of resemblance. His intention is to define a concept of difference in-itself. The simulacrum is essential to this endeavour. It allows him to define and use a host of concepts borrowed from science, philosophy, and the arts and rework them in order to fit within this philosophy of difference. The simulacrum seems to be the focal point that gathers and transforms all of these ideas to create his philosophy. It is a complex concept, which is tied to a series of other concepts that go far beyond the scope of this essay. We will therefore only focus on the aspects of the concept that are necessary to understand it within the context of the importance of perspective within translation.
Deleuze’s point of departure in both Difference and Repetition and The Logic of Sense, is his assessment that difference as a concept has been completely silenced, repressed, and stifled by what he sees as the dominant form of Western thought, namely representation. He argues that within representation difference is always seen as a lack of sameness or resemblance. Difference is always defined negatively, as not the same or not resembling. His quest to define a concept of difference in-itself is thus predicated on a critique of the paradigm of representation. In fact, the concept of the simulacrum provides a powerful tool for him to both criticize representation and to provide a positive definition of difference. He argues that representation is established by Plato’s method of division.[1] He argues that Plato distinguishes between two forms of copies some are good, he calls them icons, and some are bad, he calls them simulacra.
The idea is that, on the one hand, an icon is a faithful representation of the model (in Platonism the model would be the idea or form). The icon captures the essence of the ideal form and thus possesses the highest degree of resemblance to the model. By judging this type of copy as “good”, Plato and then the whole tradition of thought that follows establishes representation as the dominating image of thought within Western thought. That means that sameness and resemblance become the central concepts within that tradition, and identity is seen as primary. Simulacra, on the other hand, simulate any resemblance they exhibit to the model. They are built on disparity and difference. Resemblance becomes an “optical effect” (Deleuze, 1968: xvii) of the deeper play of difference. For Plato simulacra are counterfeits and unfounded copies. He famously considered that the sophist is a simulacrum. Indeed, for Plato a sophist only seems like he possesses knowledge, and only appears to love and desire wisdom, but in fact wants and desires something completely different. In this example, the philosopher would be an icon, since he, unlike the sophist, actually possesses the internal relationship to wisdom and knowledge that makes his claim to love and desire knowledge a good claim.
For Deleuze the simulacrum possesses a subversive power that can challenge representation and provide a rationale for placing difference at the center of his philosophy. The simulacrum provides the framework through which difference in-itself as a positive concept can be expressed and defined. He writes that “the simulacrum is not simply a false copy,” but that, in fact, it “places in question the very notations of copy and model” (Deleuze, 1969: 294). What this means is that the simulacrum does not fit within the simple relationship of copy and model. The model acts as an ideal source for the icon. The icon can never really be the same as the model, but is able to capture within its essence the ideal reality of the model. Thus a philosopher can never fully possess wisdom but he possesses knowledge and loves wisdom. The simulacrum does not capture the essence of the model, but in fact transforms and recasts the model as it simulates it. The simulacrum is always a perspective on the model, a perspective that is conditioned by factors other than the model. The simulacrum does not represent the model. It simulates it in order to fit within a certain social/political/cultural framework.
This idea relates back to the points made above about the problem of authorship in the context of translation, and the process of translation as a political perspective on the source text. Indeed, if we are to understand translation as a simulacral process then the translated text must be understood as questioning its own model. As was shown above, the notion of model and copy is complicated within and through the process of translation. The translator must remain faithful, to some extent, to the original text but s/he must also deviate from it. The target text is not an icon of the source text but always a simulacrum. It is a simulacrum because no translation can ever be a perfect rendition of source text. It is always the translator’s slant on the source text. There is always room for new translations, and in fact, political and cultural evolution dictates that certain texts need retranslating in order to fit different esthetic needs. The act of translation must therefore be understood as the act of creating a simulacrum.
Deleuze writes of the simulacrum that it “implies huge dimensions, depths, and distances that the observer cannot master. It is precisely because he cannot master them that he experiences an impression of resemblance. This simulacrum includes the differential point of view; and the observer becomes part of the simulacrum itself, which is transformed and deformed by his point of view” (Deleuze, 1969: 296). This quotation outlines the way in which the act of simulating resemblance through the use of difference, such as in the act of translating, the perspective of the observer is not simply a passive aspect of simulation but it is a necessary force that transforms and informs the act of simulation, i.e. translation, as well as the object – the text – and the observer –the translator/reader. Perspective is in fact the core aspect of any simulacral project, like translation for example.
A translation’s existence is built on the paradox that although a translation is inherently different from its original, it would not exist without it. A translation is its original (in that it displays properties – mostly structural and artistic – that are reminiscent of its original), while concomitantly it is not (because the very process of translation involves a shift of cultural elements – or of the relationship between readers and the cultural elements of the original). The perspective of the translator is both a curse and a blessing – it is necessary and inescapable, while also offering immense room for creative potential. The simulacrum offers an interesting theoretical framework within which we can attempt to make sense of the process of translation and the essential part played by the concept of perspective within it.
Bibliography
Deleuze, Gilles (1968) Difference and Repetition, Trans. Paul Patton. London: Continuum, 2004.
Deleuze, Gilles (1969) The Logic of Sense, Trans. Mark Lester and Charles Stivale. London: Continuum, 2004.
Kramsch, Claire (1998) Language and Culture, Oxford: OUP.
Venuti, Lawrence (1995) The Translator’s Invisibility, London: Routledge.
