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The idea of translation : exploring linguistic and cultural interstices in educational contexts 2005

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THE IDEA OF TRANSLATION: EXPLORING LINGUISTIC A N D C U L T U R A L INTERSTICES IN EDUCATIONAL CONTEXTS by Sujniko Nishizawa B.A. Japan Women's University, 1978 M . A . The University of British Columbia, 1997 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE D E G R E E OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY in THE F A C U L T Y OF G R A D U A T E STUDIES Language and Literacy Education THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA March 2005 ©Sumiko Nishizawa, 2005 Abstract The number of overseas and immigrant students enrolled in post-secondary institutions has been increasing throughout North America, resulting in culturally and linguistically diverse classrooms. In response to this major social change, Canadian college and university educators seek ways to integrate students of diverse linguistic and cultural backgrounds and nurture mutual understanding. The challenge of educators, as well as both native English-speaking and English language learning students, is to understand how norms and values shaped by language and embedded in texts, classroom tasks, and interpersonal relationships are translated across cultures. This idea of translation offers a lens through which the intersections of languages and cultures may be richly explored. This study examines how different conceptions of translation operate in socioculturally diverse classroom spaces, while pointing to strategies for reducing barriers to productive and harmonious learning. The study first analyzes various conceptions of translation. It focuses on a hermeneutic concept of language as interpretation, helping us perceive an emerging new space where languages and cultures meet and interrelate. The study also analyzes sociocultural and political effects of translation, in particular, approaches derived from cultural studies and postcolonial studies. Using translations between Japanese and English as examples, the study examines how asymmetrical relations of power construct national identities. Then the focus shifts to post- secondary education. The study examines and interprets the conceptions of translation reflected in textbooks and literature in two curricula areas—college preparatory E L L courses, and first-year English literature courses—in order to clarify how these texts embody particular educational principles and values. As applied in this study, the hermeneutic conceptions of translation illuminate the educational potentialities of texts. Conceptions of translation derived from postcolonial and cultural studies demonstrate how texts can manipulate representation of power and historicity, and hinder opportunities to embrace differences and to create inclusive learning environments. Conceptions of translation with hermeneutic interest, on the other hand, suggest that texts can open up a border world—a third, in-between space—where newness can emerge. The study illustrates how this space, a borderless generative space and a locus to share and appreciate difference, can enrich the educational experience of students and teachers alike. I V TABLE OF CONTENTS Abstract ii Table of contents iv Acknowledgements vii Prologue 1 Chapter One The Ground of Inquiry 4 1.1. Departure 4 1.2. The Purpose of My Study: Exploring How Language Constructs Difference 8 1.3. Research Focus: Exploring the Border World through Translation 13 1.4. Inquiry 16 1.5. Analyzing Texts through the Conceptions of Translation 19 1.6. Lost in Translation 24 1.7. Mapping the Journey of Inquiry 3 0 Chapter Two The Paths of Inquiry 33 ILL Translation Studies 33 11.2. Hermeneutic Approaches 36 11.2.1. Hermeneutic Motion . 40 11.2.2. Post-structuralist and Deconstructionist Approaches 43 11.2.3. Metonymy 48 11.2.4. Box Effect 53 11.2.5. Polysystem Theory 57 11.3. Sociocultural/Political Approaches 59 II 3.1. Third Space 60 11.3.2. Translating Nationhood 63 11.3.3. Transforming Self 65 11.3.4. Post-colonial Translation 69 V Chapter Three Translation in Japan 79 II. 1. Living in Translation 79 III. 2. Issues 81 111.3. Developments: Seeking "pure language" 82 111.4. Creating Language at the Border 88 111.5. Empire of Signs: Translation in Metonymic Centre-less Space 93 111.6. Ambivalent Post-colonial Japan 98 111.7. Translating Japanese Literature: Construction of Nation and Race 101 III. 8. Translating the Identity of the East 109 III. 9. Contemporary Literature/not Literature 114 III. 10. Third Space 118 III. 11. Future of Ambivalence 123 Chapter Four Texts and Tasks: College Preparatory E L L Courses 128 IV. 1. Second Language Learning Theories 129 IV. 1.1. Lost in Second Language Acquisition Canon 130 IV. 1.2. Functional and Sociocultural Perspectives 136 IV.2. What E L L Students Read in the Classroom 144 IV.3. Translating/Translated Texts 147 IV.4. Japan as a Lost Sign 161 IV.5. Possibility/Impossibility of Creating a Space 170 IV. 6. Using Literature in the E L L classroom 179 IV.6.1. Creating a Space for Students' Translation 182 IV. 6.2. Analyzing Texts 187 IV.6.2.1. The Other Family 187 IV.6.2.2. The Border World 193 Chapter Five Texts and Tasks: First-Year English Literature Courses 200 V. l . The Literature Classroom • 202 V.2. Theory, Interpretation, and Translation 206 V.3. Intertextuality as Translation 213 V.4. A Post-colonial Approach 217 V.5. Translation in the Classroom 219 V. 5.1. Translation in the Classroom: The Role of the Text 219 V I V.5.2. Translation in the Classroom: The Role of the Student 226 V.6. Literary Texts and Translation 231 V.6.1. Current Literary Anthologies 232 V.6.2. Self-Translation: Framer and Framed 235 V.6.3. Much Ado About Noticing 243 V.6.4. The Flow of the River: Heart of Darkness 251 V. 6.5. Post-colonial Literature: Blurring Borderlines 262 V. 7. Future: Translation as Lived Experience 275 Chapter Six Implications 278 VI. 1. Hermeneutic Conceptions of Translation and Educational Agendas 278 VI. 1.1. Ambiguities of Language 279 VI. 1.2. Cultural Imperialism in Translation 281 VI.2. Hermeneutic Conceptions of Translation Enacted in the Classroom 289 VI.3. Research Implications 295 VI.4. Towards Globalization 297 Epilogue 304 References 308 vii Acknowledgements This dissertation began one sunny morning on April 28, 1992, when I arrived at the Vancouver airport with two big suitcases and student visa. I would not have made this long journey without the support of many people—friends, teachers, students, even strangers—who have enriched my life in various ways and contributed to transforming my perspectives and values as well as to my undertaking this work. From them I have learned that no self can be completed without the Other. I would like to acknowledge and thank my Committee members, John Willinsky, Margaret Early, and Ted Aoki, for their interest in my research and support through a long period of intellectual struggle. John Willinsky, my supervisor, whose book Learning to Divide the World inspired me originally to develop my ideas, provided me with his abundant knowledge, experiences, vision, and understanding of issues related to socio-cultural aspects of language, literacy, and literature, anti-racism, post-structuralism and post-colonialism. His doctoral seminars enabled me to learn about many writers and thinkers in diverse fields; their texts and words formed the foundation of my work. He himself is an exceptional writer who has been my primary source of guidance. Margaret Early, my first professor at the University of British Columbia, has supported me academically and personally since I embarked on my challenging journey at the university ten years ago. I am always appreciative of her advice and her expertise in the field of language education. Ted Aoki has been my inspiration. He introduced me to the works of Homi Bhabha, Derrida, and others of whom I had had little understanding, and guided my exploration of spaces between languages and cultures, helping me to appreciate my first language, Japanese, as a source of insight rather than as an impediment. His warmth, understanding, and contribution in shaping my ideas and exploring with me translation theories and studies have enriched this work immensely. Without the V l l l support and encouragement of these three Committee members, I would not have been able to complete this dissertation. I feel privileged and grateful for the connection to their professional and personal lives. I would also like to thank my university examiners, Drs. Patricia Duff, Karen Meyer, and external examiner, Sherry Simon, whose constructive feedback helped me complete the final dissertation. Dr. Duff was one of my first professors at UBC, and her classes, publications, and approach to research helped me build the foundation of my research. Dr. Meyer encouraged me in her graduate seminar to reflect upon my own experiences when I was in the early stage of my dissertation. Many friends deserve my gratitude for their constant moral support and intellectual guidance. In particular, I owe special thanks to Janet Allwork for her friendship, intelligence, and selfless support. She has been my instructor of English literature, my editor, and best friend. She has read the numerous drafts of the dissertation over take-out Chinese food, tea and cookies for years and has provided me with her wonderful editing skills and feedback. I also thank Tom Whalley for his professional knowledge and personal experience in intercultural communication and English language education. His understanding of Japanese language and culture also helped me develop ideas and reexamine issues related to Japan. Terry Loughrey read my draft and provided me with his expertise in English language education and literature. My close friend, Melanie Yip, has helped me with her computer skills and friendship. The photograph of the three girls was only possible because of her. I also thank former students of Dr. Ted Aoki—Pat Palulis, Anne Bruce, Franc Feng, Bruce Russell, and Craig Worthing—for their insights and support. I cherish the memory of our gatherings at Pat's apartment where, snowed under with books, we shared and discussed ideas. This dissertation would not have been possible without the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada Doctoral Fellowship, for which I am very thankful. ix Finally, I would like to thank my family whose love and understanding have helped me reach this memorable step in a never-ending journey. In particular, my deepest gratitude goes to my late father and my mother who, from their home across the Pacific Ocean, never failed to believe in me. 1 Prologue In two continents separated by the Pacific Ocean, three girls were born in the 1950s. These three girls—Melanie, Janet, and Sumiko—met in Vancouver some thirty years later. Their stories are nothing extraordinary, similar to those of many people in North America today. Melanie's great grandfather, Yip Sang, from China, settled in Vancouver as a trading businessman in the late 1800s and built the first brick building constructed in Chinatown. His descendants have established themselves in the Asian community as prominent business people (Francis, 2000). At a Yip family reunion, more than a hundred people gather. Melanie's parents were born in Canada, but her mother was sent back to China where she lived until she was sixteen due to World War II; when she came back, she had to sit in the back of a classroom with the 7-year olds, because there was no ESL classroom back then. Melanie was born and raised in Vancouver, and learned to speak Cantonese from her grandmother at home. Later she went to a school where there were very few non-Caucasian children. Janet's parents came from London, England in 1947 and settled in Vancouver when the British made up almost 70% of British Columbia's population (Francis, 2000). Unlike her older siblings who were born in England, Janet was born and raised in Vancouver. Now all her immediate family live in Canada, but she still has relatives in England. Sumiko was born and raised in Tokyo, as Japan underwent significant changes resulting from the devastation of World War II. She came to Vancouver as an international student after quitting her teaching position and later, establishing her life on new soil, became an immigrant, one among 24.3% of British Columbia's immigrant population in 1996 (ibid.). When they were little, the lives of these three little girls seemed simpler. Life was not full of surprises. They went to school with friends who were much like them. Their spaces were familiar, secure, solid. They look content within their frames. When these girls met later in their lives, they liked each other. They found many things in common such as favorite books and music. But, at the same time, they sometimes thought the other was different. For example, the expectations of friendship were different. Their concept of "private" was different. Language differences made things more difficult. They confronted things considered not common or usual within their framed space, because they had already learned what was common and usual. They had learned to see the world within their frames. What did these frames do? Did these solid lines belong to the inside or the outside or neither? The frame prevented the outside from coming in and the inside from going out. Within the frame, they had learned about people who lived outside, but it was just knowledge constructed within their frames, a curriculum taught them so to speak. About these frames, John Willinsky (1998) writes that we learn to divide the world. We "are schooled in differences great and small, in borderlines and boundaries, in historical struggles and exotic practices, all of which extend the 3 meaning of difference. We are taught to discriminate in both the most innocent and fateful ways so that we can appreciate the differences between civilized and primitive, West and East, first and third world" (p. 1). We translate each other. "Trans" suggests a journey, a searching for new space. "Transing," however, can be futile and dangerous. Walter Benjamin (1968) in his "The Task of the Translator" says that "[a]ny translation which intends to perform a transmitting function cannot transmit anything but information—hence, something inessential. This is the hallmark of bad translation" (p. 69). Is that what we have learned? 4 Chapter One The Ground of Inquiry The man who finds his homeland sweet is still a tender beginner; he to whom every soil is as his native one is already strong; but he is perfect to whom the entire world is as a foreign land Hugo (qtd. in Said, 1979, p. 259) 1.1. Departure For some decades now, the number of overseas and immigrant students in post-secondary education has been increasing throughout North America. Not only have Canadian colleges and universities experienced changes in enrollments, they have also experienced rapid change due to globalization and immigration, resulting in culturally and linguistically diverse populations in classrooms and the wider community (Cummins, 1996). These students and their communities have brought diverse sociopolitical, socioeducational, and sociolinguistic forces into Canadian society, reshaping and recharacterizing learning. A United Nations report has declared Toronto, for example, the world's most multicultural city, where "in some urban schools, fifty to sixty different languages can be heard in the hallways" (Kooy& Chiu, 1998, p. 80). Canadian colleges and universities as learning organizations are therefore in the grip of social change. Educators, in particular instructors within these post-secondary school classrooms, are expected to respond, integrating students of diverse cultural backgrounds into classrooms, and nurturing mutual understanding and communication in a complex learning environment. Students too are expected to share with other students their different experiences and perspectives and participate in constructing an inclusive learning environment. The challenge is that instructors too have acquired particular norms and values, a particular 5 philosophy of learning, and particular classroom practices so natural to them that they may not even recognize these as culturally specific. These cultural norms and values are reflected in classroom tasks and activities and relationships between teacher and student. As a result, overseas and immigrant students participating in these classrooms may find themselves in what feels like an alien environment. In addition to linguistic challenges, students face sociocultural differences which create invisible boundaries they may feel unable to transcend. Discouraged, these students may tend to fall into silence, decline to participate, or retreat into their own cultural groups. The boundaries are reinforced by national stereotypes, and media often contribute to disseminating those stereotypes. Educators and students must work together to overcome such negative images, analyze the situations and their causes, and find possible solutions to cultivate a learning environment and society to which everyone can belong. Living in Canada has helped me reconceptualize my perspectives of myself as a Japanese woman and my role in Japanese and Canadian societies. In the last ten years, I have felt challenged to break many internal boundaries shaped and formed in Japanese society and to cross borders to meet and share with people of diverse ethnic backgrounds, perspectives, values, and beliefs. As I challenge boundaries and cross borders, I travel between times and spaces, and discover moments and spaces I have failed to recognize. When I was teaching in Japan, I met only a few "foreign" students in my classes. I first met a Korean-Japanese student in my grade one class. Through her, I realized how the Koreans in Japan had been oppressed. In kindergarten, she and her parents had used a Japanese name to protect her from racial discrimination. But a stronger realization came after coming to Canada, when I met a young Korean-Japanese college student who shared with me her experiences. She is a fluent Japanese speaker; I did not know her Korean nationality until she told me. She was discriminated against in Japan, and her classmates bullied her. She could not understand why she was treated 6 differently, even though she spoke Japanese and did not look different from other Japanese students. She left Japan because she did not see any potential for building her career there. She was happy studying at a community college in Canada and had no intention of going back to Japan. In Vancouver, she was just a young Asian student. No wonder another male Korean student said that he could never marry a Japanese woman; it was unthinkable. Chinese students also told me what they learned about Japan in their Asian history classes in China or Taiwan; Japanese were invaders, enemies. I was shocked to realize from these incidents that for them this was not past history but a living reality. A few summers ago, I was given an opportunity to teach a group of Japanese university students who came to Vancouver to study the English language and Canadian culture. I chose "people" as one of the themes of their Canadian studies. We discussed people who are part of Canadian society, and how and what they have contributed to constructing Canada today. Students shared their experiences living and studying in Vancouver and were able to appreciate how people from diverse cultures have enriched Canadian society. We later watched the video produced by the British Columbia Teachers' Federation (BCTF), Life without Fear, portraying racism in Canada from the perspectives of students, teachers, counselors, and professors, analyzing problems and seeking possible solutions. I wanted to help these Japanese students reflect upon their lives in Japan and discuss the problem of racism in Japan. What struck me, however, was that the majority of Japanese students had little awareness of the existing racism in Japan. One student even wrote "I wasn't aware of issues of racism in Canada, because we don't have racism in Japan." How could they be so oblivious to the reality? Racism creates higher and deeper borderlines and forces people to entrench mental boundaries or frames. Within these boundaries, many Japanese feel protected and secure. I too 7 had felt protected and secure, a Japanese woman comfortably established in Japanese society. How could I not have known? Like these Japanese university students today, my sixteen years of elite private school education did not acquaint me with the essential realities of my country's history. But I wonder who is responsible and whom we can blame. Politicians? Educators? Yet, I was once an educator who was supposed to know and be able to teach social justice to children. I feel ashamed. I didn't. Japanese teachers today talk about globalization in education. However, they do not seem to feel that introducing anti-racism is a way to reach such goals, perhaps because they fear facing a problem they do not know how to deal with. Even though Japanese scholars recently have begun to examine Japan through a post-colonial perspective—considering the colonization of China, Taiwan, and Korea, and the displacement of aboriginal peoples from their original lands—their research has not yet helped educators transform the content and pedagogy of Japanese education. Many Canadian educators, however, are transforming educational content and pedagogy. Canadian classrooms can offer rich prospects for learning, and educators have promoted multicultural education, trying to help teachers and students understand and embrace cultural differences. Working with educators in different fields, the BCTF has, for example, published many resource books to raise teachers' awareness and aid their lessons. The federal and provincial governments have funded projects, such as the Asia Pacific Initiative, to encourage multicultural education in the classroom. Multicultural education maintains that "cultural diversity is a valuable resource that should be preserved and extended," and that the "maintenance of cultural diversity is crucial to the survival of democracy," seeking "justice for all students" (Blackman, 1992, p. 6). In response, schools have implemented a variety of projects for students to increase awareness and promote harmony through videos, books, games, fine arts, and food. They plan festivals of various cultures, add ethnic food to their 8 lunch menus, or teach different languages. A challenging question remains, however. How much do these projects really help students not only understand difference but also transcend boundaries and share the same space with students of other languages and cultures? Trying sushi, or participating in Chinese New Year celebrations may be enjoyable but rarely help students transform their perspectives, a goal educators espouse. As Neil Bissoondath, a Trinidad-born Canadian writer, points out, such multicultural efforts are often "superficial and exhibitionistic," "indulging] in stereotype, depending] on it for a dash of colour and the flash of dance" (1990, p. 190). In some instances, recognizing differences may even deepen them, reinforcing stereotypes or increasing racism. In today's classrooms, there are many Janets, Melanies, Sumikos, and more, sharing the same space and time, or so it seems. And yet, they might not be sharing as much as we hope, because of the solid frame within which they have learned to live. In the same classroom, sitting next to each other, they might continue to be just learning the distance between countries, cultures, and people. Or, they might feel left alone outside of the frame, and thus be struggling in vain to enter into somebody else's frame. The frame continues to exclude, even though it seems there is a lot of space available between frames. Why can't they meet there? Can't they create a different frame—a porous frame so that they can go beyond divisions? 1.2. The Purpose of My Study: Exploring How Language Constructs Difference This study explores how language constructs difference: first, through investigating the nature of language, and second, through examining the sociocultural construction of language, as it appears in textbooks and literature often chosen for study in college preparatory English language learning (ELL) and English literature classrooms. The historical construction 9 of language inevitably shapes images and perceptions which interract and create solid frames around us, dividing the world. Language is fundamental, enabling us to create and communicate ideas. Thoughts cannot be formed or expressed without language. Without language, there is an accumulation of feelings and emotions which I would not be able to describe or even recognize. The "meaning of a word is its use in the language," Wittgenstein (1958, p. 20e) suggests in his Philosophical Investigations. Language does not have immediate access to reality, but it dictates our relationships with the world. No wonder a word like "learning" evokes different images and different spaces to different people. He also states that "naming is like attaching a label to a thing," (p. 7e) and as a name is used, the thing begins to take on the meaning. We can think of students' attempts to understand each other, to interact comfortably, as a process of constantly translating/interpreting others and being translated by others. They do so through language, spoken or thought. Even when they speak the same language, English or english (with accents and grammatical errors), they might not speak the same language, because the meaning of a word in use varies depending on cultural backgrounds. Words are embedded in a culture where the meaning is constructed though use. Once students are in regular college/university courses, they are expected to communicate in North American English, and there is no other english recognized. This may create barriers and miscommunication when students perform tasks, discuss issues, and write papers. For some, "classroom" means a place to sit quietly, listening to the lecture and taking notes, while for others it means a place to discuss issues and exchange ideas. As Foucault argues, a discourse is a socially constructed system of statements within which the world is understood, and it determines the relationship among people. Language thus creates socio-cultural boundaries. Babies begin to interact with people 1 0 surrounding them, whose language helps them shape reality, and understand ideas, thoughts and feelings. As their grandparents, parents, teachers, friends, and other people in society tell stories to them and instill in them what is right, good, and appropriate, language constructs norms and values, helping them perceive who they are in their society. They also read and watch stories. They live in the narrative of society and the myriad social interactions unfolding among them as they narrate their lives to construct/re-construct their identities. German philosopher Friedrich Schleiermacher (1992) wrote of a man that the "form of his concepts, the way and means of connecting them, is outlined for him through the language in which he is born and educated" (p. 38). When it is acquired we are framed within the power of language: "Every human being is.. in the power of the language he speaks; he and his whole thinking are a product of it. He cannot, with complete certainty, think anything that lies outside the limits of language" (ibid.). Language shapes our lives, and helps us define who we are, where we are, and how we live. Ashcroft (2001) thus defines language as "a social medium for individuals rather than a self-sufficient system of inner relationships" (p. 65). When these spaces change, however, when for example, people move across boundaries into a space constructed by a different language, their lives can become chaotic, because "to have a language is to have a particular kind of world, a world that is simply not communicable in any other language" (Ashcroft, 2001, p. 59). In this new world, a new language maintains different norms, beliefs, values, and ideas. Even a simple word like "friend" requires newcomers to understand expectations different from what they may have associated with the word "friend" in their own language. A new language begins to perform in their lives and to narrate unfamiliar stories, surprising them, and confusing them. Despite their attempts to move from "here" to "there," they often lose their location. Both students and educators need to explore the process of how meaning is constructed in different cultures, which in turn 1 1 provides them with valuable opportunities to learn about people from other cultures and share boundaries with them. In her work with First Nations, Celia Haig-Brown (1990) discusses the notion of boundary. She suggests that the border world is a world in which non-Native people and First Nations peoples work together to bring change to the existing conflicts and struggles pertaining to First Nations. They "negotiate reality" and mutually create reality in their intersecting worlds; their "reality is mutually constructed in the border world" they inhabit (pp. 239-240), and creates the space they share. Not only does language construct society and people's identities, it also constructs the identity of the Other and excludes that Other outside the boundaries. Or perhaps the Other is within a frame, but shut out from majority discourse. Recalling his childhood experience when he was left behind by other children in a deep hole at a construction site, Barthes (1977) captures such feeling. Being excluded is not always being outside; it is being alone in a hole, confined in the dark, helpless, even though he can see blue sky above him. Language is capable of labeling and categorizing Others, making stereotypes, and building particular images. Edward Said's Orientalism (1979) is a pioneer work examining this issue, suggesting that the Orient was constituted by the European mind. He writes that the "Orient is an idea that has a history and a tradition of thought, imagery, and vocabulary that have given it reality and presence in and for the West" (p. 5). Influenced by Foucault's notion of discourse as a socially constructed system of statements within which the world is understood, and that determines the relationships amongst people, Said discusses the power of the English language—a language of the empire, once used as an instrument of colonial domination—and its production of "truth." In his Learning to Divide the World, Willinsky (1998a) discusses this power of English pertaining to the current North American classroom and specifically to language education, suggesting that students need to understand "how the world was divided by the 12 intellectual project of imperialism and how those divisions continue to weigh on our thinking about, in this case, native speakers and the learning of English" (p. 194). Pennycook (1998), in his English and the Discourse of Colonialism, also argues for "the importance of understanding English in its colonial context," (p. 19) asserting that English language teaching theories and practices are products of colonialism, derived from "broader European cultures and ideologies that themselves are products of colonialism" (p. 19): [Colonialism and post-colonial struggles] have produced and reduced nations, massacred populations, dispossessed people of their land, culture, language and history, shifted vast numbers of people from one place to another. And they are also the ground on which European/Western images of the Self and Other have been constructed, the place where constructions of Superiority and Inferiority were produced.(p. 19) Using language to exercise power and maintain control is not limited to English. Just as British colonialism enforced English education in India, the Japanese language was a tool used to colonize Korea and China and the other nations included in "the Greater East Asia Coprosperity Sphere"; so were French, Dutch, and Portuguese in Africa. Language is essential for constructing and disseminating ideas of democracy and globalization, but can be a dangerous instrument for dominating countries, overpowering people and creating hierarchy among them. Investigating as well as theorizing language are thus the central issues of my research. The notions discussed above have helped me make sense of what I have experienced. Wittgenstein's concerns with language help me realize that reality is not only described by language, but language constructs "reality." I have learned and acquired knowledge in Canada, knowledge which I did not possess in my first language, Japanese. I have learned the ways in which the English language is utilized. On first coming to Canada, I tried hard to become another person, one who speaks English beautifully; understands history, politics, and society; 13 and has a fulfilling career. I wanted to be somebody who was comfortably invisible, whom nobody would ask where I was born or what I ate for breakfast. But it was impossible. Not only my English, but also my Japaneseness constantly reminded me of boundaries 1 could not cross. And yet I became a somewhat different "me"; I was no longer within the Japanese boundaries when I visited my family and friends in Tokyo. This realization first made me miserable; I belonged nowhere. But at the same time, I felt I began to develop a space of possibilities through my friends, colleagues, and studies. Kondo (1990) writes about what I have experienced: "Identity is not a fixed 'thing,' it is negotiated, open, shifting, ambiguous, the result of culturally available meanings and the open-ended, power-laden enactments of those meanings in everyday situations" (p. 23). When I encountered a concept like the border world, my experience suddenly started to make sense. I have been transformed in the space between languages and cultures where I am no longer a stranger, now sharing life with people who were, I thought, on the other side of a border. 1.3. Research Focus: Exploring the Border World through Translation I would like to explore how language has been utilized to create boundaries throughout history, and how, if at all, the border world has been constructed/deconstructed in education. I choose translation as a lens for understanding how difference operates, because translation theories and studies have theoretical links to intercultural studies and to the philosophical investigation of language, which remains as the fundamental focus here. Translation has been discussed through linguistic, socio-cultural, historical, political, and economic perspectives, all of which are closely related to international and immigrant students' experiences. In its fusion of two worlds, the act of translation is the act of situating oneself on a border, a border from which emerges an independent entity that is at once neither and both of 14 its constituent parts. Translation is thus closely linked to educational issues today, as the classroom is occupied by students with diverse cultural and linguistic backgrounds. Also, language learning involves translation. Octavio Paz (1992) writes that when "we learn to speak, we are learning to translate; the child who asks his mother the meaning of a word is really asking her to translate the unfamiliar term into the simple words he already knows" (p. 152). Translation between two languages is, he suggests, thus "not essentially different from translation between two tongues" (ibid.). When learning vocabulary, expressions, and their usages, students are constantly translating words between their first and target languages. They often depend on dictionary translation, being unaware of historical, social, or political connotations of language. Language educators, whose backgrounds are often related to linguistics, tend to be concerned with teaching students how to speak grammatically correctly with little accent, just like applied linguists who "aim to determine the kind of'equivalence' that makes a 'good' translation" (France, 2000, p. 6). France (2000) points out that two elements of criticism in translation have prevailed—accuracy and acceptability. Similarly, language teachers are likely to require their students to speak and write accurately, in speech acceptable to the target culture. Teachers may not be as concerned about what is happening for students in the process of translation. On the other hand, students who learn a new language constantly encounter barriers caused by the social construction of language. Dictionaries do not always help them acquire the language appropriate to their new society. They might have to deconstruct or reexamine norms, values, beliefs, and learn when and how to speak properly. They struggle, trying hard to transform themselves into someone who can speak and write the "right" language, and learn adequate, acceptable usage, which seems the only way for them to assimilate successfully into 15 their new society. At the same time, they may find themselves in their target language as Other. The language has constructed their identities, and people perceive them accordingly. They have little choice but to accept this construction of themselves as Other—to appropriate this identity constructed for themselves by others. The target language, particularly English, imposes on them its power, resulting in their first language, including its sociocultural norms and values, becoming inadequate, even inferior. A translation theory "always rests on particular assumptions about language use," (Venuti, 2000, p. 5) and language use in an educational context can be said to rest on theories of translation. When translating, one language is interpreted to another language. But because two languages maintain different historical, political, social, and cultural contexts, there is no objective, accurate, equal translation possible. Since the 1970s, translation research has developed theoretical perspectives, including the viewpoint of minorities in history, such as colonized peoples, and has considered the inherent political power in language, especially in the English language. Educational theory and practice, as well as students' experiences are not static but fluid and changing. Language helps us analyze and evaluate such processes and enables us to craft transformation. Examining different conceptions of translation will allow me to investigate the intersections of language historically, politically, and culturally in order to explore future educational possibilities. Because of its nature of crossing boundaries between different languages and cultures, re/searching translation will also help me explore the possibility of generative space between languages and cultures. 16 1.4. Inquiry I would like to explore the different ways in which translation is conceptualized in English-language teaching/learning for post-secondary students and within higher education more generally as well as the ways in which translation conceptualizations appear, and fail to appear, in classroom resources. Translation is one lens through which to examine how cultural difference is being cast, and to appreciate its consequences for students who are living in the third space of an additional language. The reason why translation offers content which is pertinent for us to discuss in education today is that any study Of translation includes an investigation of the nature of language, includes the critical analysis of transferring difference (linguistic, historical, social, and cultural), and includes an examination of self and other. Learners of English tend to be absorbed by its historically-constructed power; they may even feel compelled, in order to cross borders, to abandon their first language and culture as inferior. This, however, is impossible, since in the English language, they belong to the Other and dwell on the other side of the border. A major barrier to the success of integrating native English-speaking (NE) and English language learning (ELL) students is the challenge, both for educators and for students, to understand how norms and values, shaped by language and embedded in texts, classroom tasks, and interpersonal relationships, are translated across cultures. Some researchers of language teaching and learning have viewed the process of language learning as social, and have explored the social construction of the learners' identities through using the target language in the classroom while engaging with the task of language learning, helping educators perceive how learners' identities are constantly re/constructed. Various conceptions of translation may also provide educators with ways of creating possible spaces for students, spaces in which students speak their own "englishes" and share whatever difference their "englishes" can communicate. 17 Translation has received little attention in educational settings to date. Thus, I will examine how different conceptions of translation operate in socioculturally diverse classroom spaces in ways that pose frames^arriers to productive and harmonious learning. Underlying these explorations are the following questions: 1. What are the prevailing ideas about translation, especially as these relate to a sense of a socio-cultural interactive space? 2. How are the various conceptions of translation implicitly enacted in educational settings, in particular, through teaching/learning of the English language and through literature in translation? 3. How might concepts of translation derived from post-colonial and cultural studies help us construct the border world/third space where difference meets and is shared? I will take a qualitative approach to research which assumes that processes and meanings derive from the socially-constructed nature of reality based on relationships between the researcher and the researched (Denzin & Lincoln, 1994). My research is linked to the positions of hermeneutics and critical theory, as both maintain that understanding and meaning are constructed through social life. Hermeneutics perceives the fluidity of present situations and interprets cultures from given situations and contexts, while cultural theory perceives reality as shaped by "a congeries of social, political, cultural, economic, ethnic, and gender factors . . . crystallized (reified) into a series of structures that are now (inappropriately) taken as 'real,' that is, natural and immutable" (Guba & Lincoln, 1994, p. 110). Hermeneutics, or interpretation, is "the very condition of human inquiry itself (Schwandt, 1994, p. 119). Hermeneutics today is understood as the "theory of textual interpretation and analysis" (Sedgwick, 1999, p. 165). I also take the stance of a critical researcher, concerned with socially- and historically-constructed power relations which make the relationship between signifier and signified unstable. The following quotation from Kincheloe and McLaren (1994) 18 summarizes the position of "a criticalist. . .as a researcher or theorist who attempts to use her or his work as a form of social or cultural criticism and who accepts certain basic assumptions" (p. 139): That all thought is fundamentally mediated by power relations that are social and historically constituted; that facts can never be isolated from the domain of values or removed from some form of ideological inscription; that the relationship between concept and object and between signifier and signified is never stable or fixed and is often mediated by the social relations of capitalist production and consumption; that language is central to the formation of subjectivity (conscious and unconscious awareness); that certain groups in any society are privileged over others and, although the reasons for this privileging may vary widely, the oppression that characterizes contemporary societies is most forcefully reproduced when subordinates accept their social status as natural, necessary, or inevitable; that oppression has many faces and that focusing on only one at the expense of others (e.g., class oppression versus racism) often elides the interconnections among them; and finally, that mainstream research practices are generally, although most often unwittingly, implicated in the reproduction of systems of class, race, and gender oppression, (pp. 139-140). Critical theory's epistemology is to assume that the researcher and the researched object are interactively linked, with "the values of the investigator (and of situated 'others') inevitably influencing the inquiry," and findings "therefore value mediated' (ibid). Critical theorists take dialogic/dialectical methodology to "transform ignorance and misapprehensions (accepting historically mediated structures as immutable) into more informed consciousness (seeing how the structures might be changed and comprehending the actions required to effect change)" (ibid.). Similarly, Norton Peirce (1995) discusses critical research as a researcher of language education. She points out that critical research "rejects the view that any research can claim to be objective or unbiased" (p. 570). It assumes that "inequities of gender, race, class, ethnicity, and sexual orientation produce and are produced by unequal power relations in society" (pp. 570-571). This study will not examine all of these but will consider one small aspect of them such as race and ethnicity. Critical researchers locate "their research within a historical 19 context," aim to examine "the complex relationship between social structure" and "human agency," and are interested "in the way individuals make sense of their own experience" (pp. 571-572). And the goal of their educational research is "social and educational change" (p. 572). Hermeneutics, and critical theory and research, as described by these researchers have helped me formulate research methods, questions, analyses, and my position as a researcher. A poststructuralist theory of language also encourages me to take this journey; it maintains that "linguistic communities are perceived to be heterogeneous arenas in which language is implicated in the struggle over meaning, access, and power" (Norton Peirce, 1990, p. 108). Norton Peirce (1990) discusses the poststructuralists' position, suggesting that for poststructuralists, meaning "is not 'owned' by the speaker/writer, by the linguistic system, or by the hearer/reader; it is a product of speaker, sign, and hearer, all of which are enmeshed in time, place and society" (p. 111). This approach to language helps me investigate the nature of language and its power which is able not only to construct boundaries, but also to embrace the possibility of constructing the border world. 1.5. Analyzing Texts through Conceptions of Translation In this study, I will examine, interpret, and analyze written texts through which I will explore pedagogical implications arising from conceptions of translation and consider educational possibilities that translation can bring into post-secondary classrooms. I will primarily examine textbooks used in college preparatory E L L (English language learning) courses,1 and first-year college and university English courses. Textbooks embody particular 1 I use the term "ELL," found in the work of Marylyn Low (1999) who resists the commonly used term, ESL, arguing that ESL "has the potential to connotate second as inferior, substandard, not first, supplementary, 20 educational goals and values to which students are exposed and by which they are influenced. In Understanding Curriculum, Pinar et al. (1995) writes that "textbooks are the beginning": It is an understatement to observe that curriculum is not simply those materials made by experts or by textbook writers; textbooks are the beginning ... .What is in question is what the reconceived field has studied: what has been made, what is made, what can be made, what might be made of human knowledge in our time, for our ends, given the great political, racial, aesthetic, and gender issues of our day? There is no devaluation of the "tradition" when we use the simple and bureaucratic word "textbooks." Tradition and textbooks are the ground against which, in honor of which, all curriculum study can be said to occur and proceed, (p. 858) An educator's role is to help students move beyond what is written in the textbooks and explore what kind of knowledge they provide, what is hidden, what is missing, and how they can reexamine their understanding of the world. Translation can help us to perceive such possibility. My conceptual analysis takes a position derived from both content and narrative analysis, in particular, feminist research. Different disciplines emphasize different elements in examining and analyzing a text: "content analysis," "discourse analysis," "archival research," "literary criticism" (Reinharz, 1992). In her Feminist Methods in Social Research, Shulamit Reinharz (1992) discusses feminist content analysis and points out that analysis of texts "has become a significant enterprise in feminist scholarship" (p. 150). She suggests that many feminist scholars use content analysis to challenge "the cultural expression, production, and perpetuation of patriarchy, ageism, and racism" (ibid.) through which gender is socially constructed. Such scholars use personal diaries, biographies, children's books, fiction, articles from magazines and newspapers, billboards, and other texts to identify underlying social norms and values. Indeed, Reinharz (1992) points out that disciplinary boundaries are fluid, and she subsidiary, subordinate," and that "the quantification of second languages and cultures . . . detracts from the richness of language and cultural complexities in which all language learners dwell" (p. 3). I support her perspective. Furthermore, for many students, English may be their third or fourth language, and thus ELL 21 emphasizes the importance of production of knowledge over rigid ideas of discipline boundaries. Such fluidity also implies that a theory of qualitative textual analysis is underdeveloped and other theories must be relied upon such as "literary criticism, linguistics, computer science, and cognitive psychology for models for assessing the quality of documents" (Manning & Cullum-Swan, 1994, p. 463). Another model found in sociology recognizes three types of text analysis—content analysis, discourse analysis, and narrative analysis. Content analysis, here understood differently from the feminist researchers' sense, is "a quantitatively-oriented technique by which standardized measurements are applied to metrically defined units," and "has been unable to capture the context within which a written text has meaning" (p. 464). Discourse analysis, often used by language educational researchers as well, is the "functional analysis of discourse" which is defined as a communicative event involving either or both oral and written language in context, to "show and to interpret the relationship between . . . regularities and the meanings and purposes expressed through discourse" (Nunan, 1993, p. 118). It is often used to analyze the different types of interactions that occur in language classrooms. Narrative analysis, the third type of text analysis, takes various analytic forms perhaps emphasizing "the role of form in conveying meaning in a narrative," or, more systematically, using rules and principles to "seek to exhaust the meaning of a text" (Manning & Culllum-Swan, 1994, p. 464). In narrative analysis, it is therefore important to recognize that the researcher is also the interpreter of the text. This relationship between text and reader is significant. My reading and analyzing texts will take the poststructuralists' position that the meaning of a text is constructed less by the author's own consciousness than by the text's seems a more appropriate term than ESL. 22 place within linguistic-cultural systems, systems in which the very idea of translation plays a strong role in how meaning emerges when working across languages. Attention must be paid to the reader, as Barthes suggests. The author's being in a particular space and time—the different social, political, and narrative circumstances at particular moments in history—shapes language and text. Ashcroft (2001) writes about the significance of language in post-colonial discourse, stating that "to have a language is to have a particular kind of world," and that the "written text is a social situation" (p. 59): The binary between the 'sender' of meaning and the 'receiver' of meaning tends towards a view of meaning itself as fixed by the sender, and invokes an ostensive and static view of the meaning process. Without a view of language as transformable, we can have no proper theory of transformation, (p. 59) This is the issue of translation, in particular, post-colonial translation, challenging the power of language and questioning the possibility of conveying a different culture in "colonizer's English." The various conceptions of translation help me perceive which social situations and cultural values and beliefs are communicated in the texts, and how these particular views influence and shape students' learning. Examining the conceptions of translation reflected in texts is thus relevant. I will approach texts hermeneutically; as people and society are changing constantly, interpreting cultures within given situations and contexts is more appropriate than seeking grounded understanding within a universal framework. As I have my own sociocultural background which informs my interpretation of the world through language, the notion of intertextuality applies to how I read and interpret a text within the framework offered by my research questions; the text is "the performance by author and reader of a multitude of writings that cross and interact on the site of the text.... it exists in the continuing time of its intertextual production, which includes the texts of its future" (Heath, 1998, p. 259). As Denzin (1994) writes of qualitative social science research, "there is only 23 interpretation" (p. 500). Different paradigms and perspectives exist, and the function of each piece of writing differs, but my approach is similar to that of the post-structuralists (e.g., Denzin, 1994; Norton, 1995; Richardson, 1991) and non-modernists (e.g. Aoki, 1993). Denzin and Lincoln (1994) summarize this position and mine: There is no single interpretive truth. Interpretations are narrative, or storied, accounts. Interpretation-as-storytelling may privilege any of a number of different narrative positions. These positions refer back to the major paradigms and interpretive positions, (p. 481) Denzin (1994) discusses post-structural interpretive styles, particularly cultural studies perspectives, feminist perspectives and interpretive interactionism, and suggests that "poststructuralists celebrate uncertainty and attempt to construct texts that do not impose theoretical frameworks on the world" and "are sensitive to voices and to multiple perspectives" (p. 511). As I read books and listen to stories, I interpret and construct meanings. Certain words may invoke certain memories and emotions, which might affect my analysis. Denzin (1994) states that interpretation is an artful political process, producing "understanding that [is] shaped by genre, narrative, stylistic, personal, cultural, and paradigmatic conventions" (p. 507). The writer's gender, race, ethnicity, and class position provide him/her with a "unique self in the text, a self that claims to have some authority over the subject matter that is being interpreted" (p. 502). Richardson (1994) suggests that writing is "a method of inquiry, a way of finding [my]self and [my] topic" (p. 516) and writes about the significant role that language plays: Although we usually think about writing as a mode of "telling" about the social world, writing is not just a mopping-up activity at the end of a research project. Writing is also a way of "knowing"—a method of discovery and analysis. By writing different ways, we discover new aspects of our topic and our relationship to it. Form and content are inseparable, (ibid.) Language "does not 'reflect' social reality, but produces meaning, creates social reality" (p. 24 518). This study aims to discern what social reality the language of textbooks provides: "Language is how social organization and power are defined and contested and the place where our sense of selves, our subjectivity is constructed" (ibid, emphasis original). Language is how educational social scientists inform their research and develop new knowledge and understanding, and, through language, educators gain insights into students' learning processes and effective teaching practices. My interpretation seeks not to provide solutions but to play a role akin to discovery or posing. Interpretive texts allow us to participate in their discussions and encourage us to reflect upon our perspectives and values. I would like to invite readers to interact with my research and develop dialogues with it. In this way, my interpretive research will help us construct and reconstruct meaning, and knowledge will thus be constructed collaboratively. 1.6. L o s t in T rans la t ion The post-secondary classroom today includes students from diverse cultural and linguistic backgrounds, many of whose first languages are not English. The classrooms in North America can thus be said to consist of "translators" from many cultures and languages. When they read a text, they are always at work between languages, trying to search for the meanings in English, which are socially constructed and often vertically defined—signifier and signified—within a particular frame. The problem with this work is, as Eva Hoffman (1997), born in Poland but resident in Canada from age fourteen, writes, that "the signifier has become severed from the signified" (p. 114). A word, she argues, is just a sign and does not carry a meaning. This is clear when, in her autobiographical narrative Lost in Translation, she reflects on learning English: 25 The words I learn now don't stand for things in the same unquestioned way they did in my native tongue. "River" in Polish was a vital sound, energized with the essence of riverhood, of my rivers, of my being immersed in rivers. "River" in English is cold—a word without an aura. It has no accumulated associations for me, and it does not give off the radiating haze of connotation. It does not evoke, (p. 114) A dictionary gives her the concept of river in English, but her translation of river moves away from dictionary definitions, because her Polish "river" was conceptualized through her life in Poland. As she is unable to translate her Polish river to an English one, she has to move between languages and experiences to create her own river. Her translation of river shifts from the vertically defined one to the horizontally expanding one—without finding a space to settle. Hoffman's voice echoes with that of an E L L student in my own research (Nishizawa, 1997), who describes how English had become her language: I write a diary. I started to write it in English after I came here. I recently realized that I can feel English. When I wrote "I'm depressed," I didn't really feel I'm depressed.. .you know what I mean. But, now sometimes when I write "I'm depressed," I can get the sense of how it feels like. (p. 167) Her translation of the feeling of depression cannot be found in a dictionary, as she initially does not feel the word. Her experiences do not translate back to the English word. She moves between languages and begins to find the space in between where her feelings and words are connected. In this instance, this student is moving beyond the phase of what Pavlenko and Lantolf (1997) identify through Hoffman's voice as "loss of the frame of reference and the link between the signifier and the signified" (p. 1). Gerda Lerner (2003) shares a similar experience moving from one language to another. Her experience helps us realize how significant a role translation plays in E L L students' lives. Lerner came to the United States from Austria in 1939 when she was eighteen, fleeing from anti-Semitic violence. After undergoing obstacles many immigrants experience, she became a prominent scholar and university professor. She recalls thinking that "losing one's mother 26 tongue is inconceivable" (p. 275). Yet, language "is not a dead body of knowledge; language changes year by year, minute by minute; it lives and grows" (ibid.). Like Hoffman, she lost her native German language in order to claim her life in a world of English. Translation helped her make that possible, as she has "worked for years on translations and lived for decades in translation" (p. 274). She writes that "German, like most European languages which developed through centuries of feudalism, has a rich variety of dialect and intonations, which mark not only region but also class. British English of the upper classes and the cockney speech of the lower London classes retain that function, but English in America reflects region more than class," (p. 276) which made it difficult for her to translate what she heard: "I usually could not catch the exact meaning without doing the translation... .1 had to guess at the whole meaning. For a person like me, who is committed to precise definition and precise expression, this was a form of torture" (ibid.). Both Hoffman and Lerner suggest that when E L L students study English, they have to translate while searching for meaning. But this struggle is often futile since there is no exact word in their "mother tongue" that conveys the same meaning. Even when a dictionary gives meanings of the word, the word does not come to E L L students, because of their different experiences and the norms and attitudes specific to their cultures. The English word "hug," for example, does not exactly exist in Japanese. Although Japanese people hug babies and children, they do not usually hug each other in the way that North Americans or Europeans do. Even after eleven years living in Canada, I still do not hug my Japanese friends, my sister, or my parents, because that is not the way I feel I can express my love. I have other ways to communicate my feelings for them. When I look in my English-Japanese dictionary, it tells me the meaning of hug: an embrace, tight squeeze. These are actions, but a dictionary cannot explain the emotions and feelings attached to the word or evoked by the word. A Japanese 27 "embrace" is a much more private gesture. This is one reason that E L L teachers often tell students not to translate. But students have to do so in the process of learning English and encounter difficulty due to socially-constructed meanings. Lerner's experience further suggests how language is politically situated in society. After World War II began, Lerner felt that her native language of German was something to be ashamed of, and her rejection of German became strong: "I no longer wanted to speak German; I was repelled by the sound of it; for me as for other Americans it had become the language of the enemy" (p. 277). Acquiring English was exciting and made "a qualitative difference in the way I lived" (ibid.). What she speaks about is the power that language holds, reflecting social and political circumstances. Different languages are not equal, as they reflect the divisions of nation and race. People are judged by what language they speak, which in turn shapes their self-perception and the perception others hold of them. Lerner's English is marked by her accent, so she was never completely included in an English-speaking frame. She also had to accept mispronunciation of her German name, saying of the mispronunciation, "I came to use it myself and have done so for fifty years" (p. 279). Although her ethnicity is marked by language, the very identification of herself—her name—cannot be truly identified. By accepting a mispronunciation as her name, she is like many E L L students who change their names in English, surrendering their identities to the authority of English. They are always in a space of translation. What helped Lerner transcend her negative feelings towards her German self, it seems, was returning to her German ties, and realizing an in-between space created by translation. Lerner gave up speaking, writing, thinking, and feeling in German. She spent nearly twelve years writing in English a semi-autobiographical novel, which was ironically first published with success not in English but in Austria in a German translation. This experience made her 28 recognize how translation reunites people once disconnected by the war. Her reunion with her younger sister also reminded her of her roots. They were separated through emigration, and her sister went to Switzerland, England, and Israel. First they communicated only through English, as her sister speaks Hebrew at home. What reunited them was music. Their childhood memories and familiar yet forgotten songs brought them back together in the German language. They sang in German with their memories together and began to share in German their lives since separation. But their German was no longer the same German they spoke and sang when they were little. Their language was a language created through translating German, English, and Hebrew. This is the language which now speaks their lives. Although few E L L students will become professional writers like Lerner or Hoffman, Lerner's and Hoffman's struggles between German or Polish and English overlap with students' experiences of drifting between frames of languages. Hoffman experiences the impossibility of translating one language to another. Lerner first abandons German.to become an "English writer," but translating languages has made her realize where she likes to dwell. Hoffman's river in English rests in a space of river/not river. Similarly, Lerner writes English which is created by a space intersecting German and English and perhaps her sister's Hebrew. Where is this space? This is an important issue in translation as well as in education. Thus, while this study will explore conceptions of translation, it will also help educators and students comprehend the process of students' learning experiences, which may lead them to approach teaching and learning differently. Just as Lerner abandons German in order to establish her identity as a speaker of English, other language learners construct/reconstruct their identities, an identity that Norton (2000) defines as "how a person understands his or her relationship to the world, how that relationship is constructed across time and space and how the person understands the 29 possibilities of the future" (p. 5). This identity reconstruction requires decisions. Pavlenko and Lantolf (2000) suggest that either by necessity or by choice "adult bilingualism requires agency and intentionality (similar to crossing class lines)" (p. 174): It is through intentional social interactions with members of the other culture, through continuous attempts to construct new meanings through new discourses, that one becomes an equal participant in new discursive spaces, but apparently not without a cost, (ibid.) Lerner concurs: "I was young enough to start anew. . . . But there is a cost to it, greater than I ever wanted to admit to myself (p. 275). Lerner has recovered part of what she lost. But many E L L students' losses may never be recovered unless they become aware of what they have lost and gained and why. If they have control over their decision-making processes, their losses may be minimized. This study thus employs translation as a lens through which to examine education, demonstrating how the classroom has been divided by language, and how it can be re/formed through the active embrace of the different races, nations, and cultures that constitute it. Translation tends to be narrowly conceived as a primarily linguistic activity,2 whereas a hermeneutic approach addresses the meaning of language as sociocultural/political production. Viewed hermeneutically, translation becomes a process of .aligning, though imperfectly, different worlds constructed by different languages. This thesis argues that linguistic approaches to translation, to English translation in particular, may have needlessly exacerbated the sense of boundaries between races, nations, and cultures, while those ideas of translation derived from hermeneutics offer opportunities for educators and students to reduce barriers to understanding self and other, and to create a space in which they can redefine the meaning of language in a way that articulates the lived experience of all students. 2 Linguistics here means the scientific study of language and its structure, distinct from sociolinguistics 30 1.7. Mapping the Journey of Inquiry In this Chapter, I described how my journey has begun, leading me to cross the Pacific Ocean and enabling me to see the world through translation. As a Japanese woman, immigrant, student, and teacher, I have attempted to locate barriers and challenges that Canadian educators and students are exposed to and to discuss how the idea of translation can help dismantle barriers. Because I have moved from Japan to Canada, and because I have chosen to speak English, I am able to see a space between languages and cultures, a space that is now a significant site to be examined. I believe that the idea of translation helps me find ways to make sense of this space I am in. Although I speak english with a Japanese accent and make many errors, my english is the very language that has made it possible for me to translate and transform my perspectives of myself and others and to explore possibilities in socioculturally diverse classroom spaces. In Chapter Two, various conceptions of translation are analyzed. The history of translation, as George Steiner (1998) writes, goes back to Cicero and Horace, but this study focuses on the last four decades, since translation studies only became an academic discipline in the 1970s. The study mainly explores a hermeneutic approach to language use, rather than viewing language as the instrumental communication of objective information, in which "meanings are either based on reference to an empirical reality or derived from a context that is primarily linguistic" (Venuti, 2000, p. 6). I will show how such conventional approaches to translation often create asymmetrical power relations and define national identities as though they were static.3 Hermeneutic conceptions of translation, in contrast, perceive language as which is the study of language in use (Mitchell & Myles, 1998). 3 Ruth Evans (2000) writes that, conventionally, "translated texts are believed to provide a transparent window onto the cultures they represent and to facilitate cross-cultural understanding" (p. 153). A post-colonial approach to translation argues against such a view by examining "the role of translated texts in 31 socially and historically constructed, thereby helping us explore a space in between languages and cultures. In Chapter Three, the study discusses translations between Japanese and English as examples and explores the impact of different conceptions of translation. Translation has been essential for Japan and Japanese people to learn about and emulate the world, both East and West, and Japanese scholars have examined the roles of translation for decades. However, their works have few connections to translation studies in the West, and their ideas have hardly been discussed outside of Japan. Translations between English and Japanese illustrate how the practice of translation has contributed to the production of a particular kind of knowledge about self and other. The study can highlight challenges bridging languages and cultures, and power relationships constructing particular images and stereotypes as national identities. In Chapter Four, the inquiry narrows to post-secondary education. In this chapter, the study examines and interprets the conceptions of translation reflected in textbooks and literature for E L L students. I will discuss conceptions of translation operating in the classroom through textbooks and/or literature and what these mean for learning. Since the main objectives of language learning are to acquire linguistic and pragmatic competence, and to help students adapt to a new social environment, textbooks may reinforce the world view through an Anglo-American perspective, which in turn may locate E L L students on the periphery as Other. Hermeneutic conceptions help us re-examine textbooks and explore how they can be used to encourage students to reflect upon their own experiences and feel they are equal imposing hegemonic cultural values and masking colonial violence" (ibid.). Correspondingly, some scholars in English language education have also examined "the accelerating global spread of English, and the urgent socio-economic, ideological and ecological issues raised as a consequence of this spread (Seidlhofer, 2003, p. 7). The issues of language varieties and standard language (e.g., Quirk, 1990) and of English as a tool of linguistic and cultural domination (e.g., Phillipson, 1992) have remained controversial in applied linguistics and language education (Seidlhofer, 2003). 32 participants in the society. In Chapter Five, the study examines and interprets the conceptions of translation reflected in anthologies and literature for students of first-year English literature courses. As translation can bridge cultures, applying hermeneutic conceptions of translation to literature may help students develop awareness of how norms and values are shaped by the historically- and socioculturally-constructed frames, which may lead students to perceive their identities as shifting and emerging through interaction with others. Literature provides students with an effective learning environment, as they encounter many characters' lives in different frames and times. Chapter Six concludes the study by offering possibilities for culturally diverse post-secondary classrooms today. I will discuss the pedagogical and research implications of the study as well as suggestions for future research. I will show how hermeneutic conceptions of translation are closely related to educational agendas and curricular issues today, and how they help us understand the educational experience of learning across languages. The study may be able to help students realize the cultural and linguistic spaces in which they dwell, and in which they transform their identity as they interact with each other. This is just the beginning of my new journey. I have found a space to dwell, but now I face a new challenge through which I need to find ways to help other educators and students to come out from their own frames and encourage them to dwell in a shared space where all worlds, their own included, are "foreign land." 33 Chapter Two Path of Inquiry One should never pass over in silence the question of the tongue in which the question of the tongue is raised and into which a discourse on translation is translated. (Derrida, 1985, p. 166) ILL Translation studies An early recorded account suggesting the need for translation is the biblical story of the Tower of Babel (Genesis 11: 1-9), when we are told that the Lord scattered different languages abroad over the face of all the earth. But translation studies have been an academic discipline only since the 1970s, beginning with works of James Holmes (1972) and George Steiner (1975). The label "Translation Studies" was first introduced by Andre Lefevere in 1978, who suggested that this discipline is concerned with issues raised by the production and description of translation (Bassnette, 1991). Before that, the examination of the processes of translation was not perceived to be a significant field of study. As Susan Bassnett (1991) writes in her Translation Studies, translation "has rarely been studied for its own sake" (p. 1) and has been "perceived as a secondary activity, as a 'mechanical' rather than a 'creative' process, within the competence of anyone with a basic grounding in a language other than their own" (p. 2). The translated text was considered to be inferior to the original text. In recent decades, however, translation studies have been developed, and multiple theories have emerged, akin to the proliferation of literary theories such as formalism and structuralism, concentrating on the nature of language and its structures in contrast with reader-oriented theories emphasizing readers' experience and interpretation. Much of the work is still based on formal linguistics and, as English professor and translator, Lawrence Venuti (2000) suggests, has tended to "assume a scientific or value-free treatment of language," (p. 4) 34 such as exploring the relationship between source language and target language. Polysystem theory, initiated by Itamar Evan-Zohar from Tel Aviv, however, draws attention to the fact that translation was "ignored by historians of culture" (Bassnett, 1993, p. 141) and offers a systematic assessment of such questions as "why do some cultures translate more and some less?"; "[w]hat kinds of texts get translated" (p. 142).4 In the 1980s and the 1990s, post-structuralists have observed problems inherent in translation's political power, and thus translation has come to be seen as an issue of political struggle. Many women writers have also begun to discuss translation from feminist perspectives which challenge "the old binary notion of translation" and focus "on the interactive space between [original and translated] texts" (Bassnett, 1993, p. 156). In this chapter, I will analyze several conceptions of translation developed during the last four decades. I will focus on "interlingual translation," the term introduced by Roman Jakobson's often-cited essay (2000) "On Linguistic Aspects of Translation." Jakobson takes a semiotic approach to translation, stating that "the meaning of any linguistic sign is its translation into some further alternative sign" (p. 114). He categorizes translation into "three ways of interpreting a verbal sign" (ibid.)—intralingual, interlingual, and intersemiotic translation. Interlingual translation, my concern here, is "an interpretation of verbal signs by means of some other language," (ibid.) the process by which the source language (SL) is translated into the target language (TL). In this process of transfer, Jacobson argues that "there is ordinarily no full equivalence between code-units, while messages may serve as adequate interpretations of alien code-units or messages," stating that equivalence "in difference is the 4 Lawrence Venuti (1998) points out that translation patterns indicate the "overwhelming domination of English-language cultures" (p. 160). For example, the United States in 1994 published 51,863 books of which 2.74 percent were translations. Among these 1,484 translated books, 374 books were from French originals, followed by 362 from German, Chinese at 55, and Arabic at 17, showing the relatively small 35 cardinal problem of language and the pivotal concern of linguistics" (ibid.). Equivalence relates to accuracy or correctness. Equivalence is one of the key concepts pertaining to the development of translation theories (Venuti, 2000), though Jakobson regards it as irrelevant and unattainable. Other key concepts are autonomy which relates to "the textual features and operations or strategies that distinguish it from the foreign text and from texts initially written in the translating language," (Venuti, 2000, p. 5) and function, which suggests "the potentiality of the translated text to release diverse effects" (ibid.) including the communication of information, the production of a response, and issues related to "cultural, economic, and political agendas" (ibid). Theories of interlingual translation, Venuti (2000) suggests, always rest "on particular assumptions about language use," (p. 5) and those assumptions can be divided into two categories: instrumental and hermeneutic: An instrumental concept of language leads to translation theories that privilege the communication of objective information and formulate typologies of equivalence, minimizing and sometimes excluding altogether any question of function beyond communication. A hermeneutic concept of language leads to translation theories that privilege the interpretation of creative values and therefore describe the target-language inscription in the foreign text, often explaining it on the basis of social functions and effects, (p. 6) This study places emphasis on the latter—a hermeneutic conception of language—which I believe is essential in education. In particular, concerning linguistically and culturally diverse classrooms, language involves multiple perspectives through which delivering "objective" information seems impossible. As Jacobson suggests, all types of translation involve interpretation; we communicate with each other through interpreting, constantly searching for the meaning of what we hear or read. Interpretation can vary among people who have different linguistic and cultural backgrounds. This study first explores several conceptions among interest of publishers in such languages. 3 6 hermeneutic approaches to translation, and second, explores a sociocultural approach to translation in which "translation" is interpreted not just literally but as an idea, in order to examine how language performs when moving from one culture to another. (In subsequent chapters, the broader term "hermeneutic conceptions of translation" will be used to embrace both these approaches.) Analyzing the conceptions of translation hermeneutically shows us the dangers inherent in traditional approaches to translation which risk creating asymmetrical power relations and defining national identities as though they were fixed. Hermeneutic conceptions of translation, on the other hand, open up a space in which the meaning of language can be both contested and deconstructed. This opening allows educators and students to reexamine their knowledge and perceptions of the world and the Other.5 II.2. He rmeneu t i c App roaches Although the study focuses on the last four decades, I would like to begin this section with an earlier study in hermeneutics. In the nineteenth to early twentieth centuries, translation theory was "rooted in German literary and philosophical traditions, in Romanticism, hermeneutics, and existential phenomenology," (Venuti, 2000, p. 11) which helped to develop the idea of autonomy of translation, considering the translated work as independent from the original text. Among works of theorists and practitioners, Walter Benjamin's 1923 essay, The Task of the Translator has influenced many scholars in its hermeneutic approach to translation 5 Lacan distinguished "the other" and "the Other." The other (small "o") "resembles the self which the child discovers when it looks in the mirror and becomes aware of itself as a separate being," being used to define "the identity of the subject" or "the colonized others who are marginalized by imperial discourse" (Ashcroft, Griffiths, & Tiffin, 1999, p. 170). On the other hand, "the Other (capital "0")" is called "grande-autre" in "whose gaze the subject gains identity," used to discuss the "subjectivity of the colonized... continually located in the gaze of the imperial other" (ibid., pp. 170-171). • 37 studies. Hermeneutics originates with Hermes, "the messenger god of the Greeks, and suggests a multiplicity of meanings" (Mueller-Vollmer, 2000, p. 1); Hermes had to understand and interpret the gods' messages and translate their intentions to mortals. The term is related to the Greek word hermeneuein, meaning to understand (Robinson, 2001). Hermeneutics derived from Friedrich Schleiermacher and has been developed by followers such as Wilhelm Dilthey, Martin Heidegger, and Hans-Georg Gadamer. Friedrich Schleiermacher writes that hermeneutics is the art of understanding. He suggests that psychological interpretation and grammatical interpretation are equally important, and that the "successful practice of the art depends on the talent for language and the talent for knowledge of individual people" (cited by Bowie, 1998, p. 11): By the former we do not mean the ease of learning foreign languages, the difference between mother tongue and foreign tongue does not matter for the moment,—but rather the living awareness of language, the sense of analogy and difference, etc. (ibid.) In "On the Different Methods of Translating," Schleiermacher (1992) writes about the relationship among author, translator, and reader, saying there are two paths for a translator who wants to bring the author and the reader together: "Either the translator leaves the writer alone as much as possible and moves the reader toward the writer, or he leaves the reader alone as much as possible and moves the writer toward the reader" (p. 42). He prefers the former as he is concerned with the cultural context of the original texts, though the latter is a common practice.6 Nineteenth-century theorists like Schleiermacher were already concerned about cultural and social functions of language, and accepted the creative nature of translation. 6 This issue of domesticating or foreignizing strategies is discussed in the later section of this Chapter about 38 Bowie (1998) suggests that hermeneutics maintains a tension between "the idea that the interpreting subject should surrender to the transformative power of the text and the idea that the meaning of a text can only emerge via the creative initiatives of its interpreters," (p. 241) and this tension has been seen as "the heart of philosophy" (ibid.). Sedgwick (1999) points out that the discussion of the Other can be linked to interpretation, which is the product of reconstructing the interpreter's preconceptions, and that interpretation is "an unlimited, open-ended process" (p. 167). Meaning is thus not fixed but fluid, negotiated. One hundred years later, Gadamer (1999) writes that language is the medium of hermeneutic experience, and considers translation as interpretation: The translator must translate the meaning to be understood into the context in which the other speaker lives. . . . the meaning must be preserved, but since it must be understood within a new language world, it must establish its validity within it in a new way. Thus every translation is at the same time an interpretation . . . . the translation is the culmination of the interpretation that the translator has made of the words given him. (p. 384) He also embraces the connection to "the other world": "the other world we encounter is not only foreign but is also related to us. It has not only its own truth in itself but also its own truth for us" (p. 442, italics original). Bowie (1998) writes that the "power of Gadamer's position lies in its valorization of the open encounter with the 'Other,' whether simply as other people, great art, or other cultures, which is able to transform the subject who engages with that other" (P- 243). Linked to Schleiermacher's insight into the translation process, Walter Benjamin maintains the autonomy of translation, assuming the translated text's status as independent from the original. This is discussed in his work The Task of the Translator in 1923, first written as the preface to his translation of Baudelaire's Tableaux Parisiens. He suggests that post-colonial translation. 3 9 translation creates an in-between space at the boundaries between languages and cultures. His essay has influenced the works of many thinkers and critics interested in the nature of translation. His concern is with the afterlife of translation: A translation comes later than the original, and since the important works of world literature never find their chosen translators at the time of their origin, their translation marks their stage of continued life. The idea of afterlife in works of art should be regarded with an entirely unmetaphorical objectivity. (Benjamin, 1968, p. 71) Benjamin (1968) argues that languages "are not strangers to one another, but are, a priori and apart from all historical relationships, interrelated in what they want to express" (p. 72). He takes an example of the German word, brot, and French word, pain, to say that these words " 'intend' the same object (bread), but the modes of this intention are not the same" (p. 74). These words are therefore not interchangeable; however, they mean the same thing as they refer to the same object: "Al l suprahistorical kinship of languages rests in the intention underlying each language as a whole—an intention, however, which no single language can attain by itself but which is realized only by the totality of their intentions supplementing each other: pure language" (Benjamin, 1968, p. 74). Pure language is hidden for Benjamin, and the task of the translator is not to restore or preserve the original but to reach out to pure language; "it is translation which catches fire on the eternal life of the works and the perpetual renewal of language" (ibid.). Pure language thus departs from current standard usage of language, "reviving Schleiermacher's notion of foreignizing translation, wherein the reader of translated text is brought as close as possible to the foreign one through close renderings that transform the translating language" (Venuti, 200, p. 12). The language emerged through translation is neither one nor the other, but exists in an in-between space created by the connection between languages. Benjamin's work has influenced post-structuralist thinkers such as Derrida (1985), 40 Paul de Man (1986),7 and later the post-colonial translation theorist and critic, Tejaswini Niranjana (1992) who states that "Benjamin's notion of historicity may help us to deconstruct the totality of history that Derrida sees as a founding metaphor of logocentrism" (p. 162). Peter Bush (2001) suggests that "the impurity of his pure language becomes part of a materialist reading of language and a championing of the hybridity of culture" (p. 196). Works rooted in Benjamin and developed by post-structural and post-colonial thinkers thus help educators perceive the possibility that a new space can be created by students of diverse language and cultural backgrounds. n.2.1 Hermeneutic Motion The thinkers discussed above have led others in the last four decades to perceive that translation studies have theoretical links to philosophical investigations of language and intercultural studies (Gentzler, 2001). In his 1975 work, After Babel, George Steiner, following Benjamin's work, has made a significant contribution to translation studies, offering a hermeneutic approach to language. His conception of translation is significant as it indicates the nature of language and implies the potential power relationship between SL and TL. Benjamin distinguishes between words as a reference to a concrete object and words as having potential within themselves, independent of user and object and belonging to language which the translator seeks to grasp, leading Steiner to discuss the nature of language. Steiner (1998) writes that the "use of language is the use of a system of rules. These rules must be consistent if the propositions which they inform are to have meaning" (p. 170). Steiner argues that 7 In referring to Benjamin's pure language, Paul de Man (1986) writes: "this movement of the original is a wandering, an errance, a kind of permanent exile if you wish, but it is not really an exile, for there is no homeland, nothing from which it has been exiled. Least of all is there something like... a pure language (p. 92). 41 language is not "instrumental in communicating meaning but constitutive in reconstructing it," and "it is the individualistic aspects of language, 'the privacies of individual usage,' that resist interpretation and escape the universalizing concepts of linguistics" (Venuti, 2000, p. 124). For him, it is the use of language which constructs the meaning. Steiner's perception of language is articulated by Wittgenstein. In his Philosophical Investigations, Wittgenstein (1958) is concerned with the nature of language and makes a claim which helps us understand the limits of language and its potential power. He takes an example of language use between a builder and an assistant to describe the term "language-game" and suggests that this language-game consists of "language and the action into which it is woven" (p. 5e); thus, "to imagine a language means to imagine a form of life" (p. 8e). His concerns with language help us realize that reality is not described by language, but language can construct "reality." Ashcroft (2001) writes that worlds "exist by means of languages, their horizons extending as far as the processes of neologism, innovation, tropes and imagination will allow the horizons of the language itself to be extended" (p. 70). In a way, we cannot live in a world outside of language, yet language may enable us to extend our world. Steiner approaches translation from the concept of "hermeneutic motion," "the act of elicitation and appropriative transfer of meaning" (1998, p. 312) to describe four stages through translation. First there is "initiative trust," that "something . . . to be understood" (p. 312), which is "at once most hazardous and most pronounced where the translator aims to convey meaning between remote languages and cultures" (p. 371) such as Japanese in the context of English translation. The second movement is "aggression" where the translator is "incursive and extractive" (p. 312). Steiner refers to Heidegger's notion of understanding as "an act, on the access, inherently appropriative and therefore violent" (ibid.). This aggression or penetration seems to suggest the imperialistic nature of translation. The third movement is 42 "incorporation" or embodiment; he notes though that while "all decipherment is aggressive and, at one level, destructive, there are differences in the motive of appropriation and in the context of'the bringing back'" (p. 315). However, this is incomplete; "having caused disequilibrium.. the hermeneutic act must compensate" (p. 316) in order to restore balance, which is the final stage, "restitution": The original text gains from the orders of diverse relationship and distance established between itself and the translations. The reciprocity is dialectic: new 'formats' of significance are initiated by distance and by contiguity, (p. 317) In this work, Steiner not only delineates the process of translation but also suggests how power relations between languages may perform. In particular, if the translator ends his/her work at the second or third movement, source culture can be aggressively appropriated. English translation of other languages may likely end here, pointing to the same danger that educators face when they "translate" the student's language based on their own sociocultural framework. Steiner's final stage, restitution, can, however, bring both distance and contiguity into equilibrium, which suggests that the restitution movement can reach the "contact zone" discussed by Mary Louise Pratt (1991). In her Imperial Eyes: Travel Writing and Transculturalion, Pratt perceives the space between colonizer and colonized as significant. She uses the term "contact zone" to "refer to the space of colonial encounters, the space in which peoples geographically and historically separated come into contact with each other and establish ongoing relations, usually involving conditions of coercion, radical inequality, and intractable conflict" (p. 6). Through this contact zone, colonized people's "traditional lifeways" (p. 54) have been disrupted, and "the violence and destruction" (p. 55) have been glimpsed: "Contact zone" is an attempt to invoke the spatial and temporal copresence of subjects previously separated by geographic and historical disjunctures, and whose trajectories now intersect. By using the term "contact," I aim to foreground the 43 interactive, improvisational dimensions of colonial encounters so easily ignored or suppressed by diffusionist accounts of conquest and domination. A "contact" perspective emphasizes how subjects are constituted in and by their relations to each other. It treats the relations among colonizers and colonized, or travelers and "travelees," not in terms of separateness or apartheid, but in terms of copresence, interaction, interlocking understandings and practices, often within radically asymmetrical relations of power. (P- 6) Translation may be a "contact zone" where languages and cultures interact.8 Steiner's hermeneutic motion illustrates the path of such interaction. Applying this contact zone notion to translation in Quebec, Sherry Simon (1999) writes: We "find that Western society as a whole has turned into an immense contact zone, where intercultural relations contribute to the internal life of all national cultures" (p. 59). These notions help to analyze the phenomenon of translation, in particular, the translations between English and "remote" languages, as Steiner describes. Steiner's work remains important, since "by exploring the geopolitical, ideological, and social-psychological aspects of translation," he has helped "recent studies of translation as imperialism" (Robinson, 1997, p. 99).9 This sociopolitical development of translation will be discussed in later sections. n.2.2. A Post-structuralist and Deconstructionist Approach Both Benjamin and Steiner view translation as an independent form of writing. This "relative autonomy" has become the common theoretical assumption of those who perceive translation as "enacting its own processes of signification which answer to different linguistic Pratt (1991) writes in "Arts of the Contact Zone" that the "idea of the contact zone is intended in part to contrast with ideas of community that underlie much of the thinking about language, communication, and culture that gets done in the academy" (p. 179). 9 In contrast to Steiner, some feminist scholars, such as Nicole Brossard and Kathy Mezei, reject writer-oriented or reader-oriented criticism. They perceive the translator as both reader and writer: "I write 44 and cultural contexts" (Venuti, 2000, p. 215). More importantly, the movement of post-structuralism and its impact on psychoanalysis, Marxism, and feminism have made "theorists more aware of the hierarchies and exclusions in language use and thereby point to the ideological effects of translation, to the economic and political interests served by its representations of foreign texts" (p. 219). Bowie (1998) suggests that the development of hermeneutics has led post-structuralism to consider itself as "renouncing hermeneutics' metaphysical goal of finding the text's original meaning" (p. 241). Since structuralists see "the world as having no absolute existence at all but as being entirely constructed by the text," they would not allow non-textual experience of the world, nor potentially, for any world outside the text" (Ashcroft, 2001, p. 64). Ashcroft asserts that "the text is crucial in the way we 'have' a world, but the world does exist, and the worldiness is constructed within the text" (ibid.). This is the time when a deconstruction and post-colonial reflection upon translation emerges, challenging classical Western philosophical notions of reality and knowledge to say that reality and knowledge are productions of certain discourses. These movements challenge, as well as deconstruct, fundamental notions of translation.10 The meaning of a word defined in a dictionary is established through how language has been used in the past: "the structure of a language, its system of norms and regularities, is a product of events, the result of prior speech acts" (Culler, 1982, p. 95): The possibility of meaning something by an utterance is already inscribed in the structure of the language. The structures themselves are always products, but however far back we try to push, even when we try to imagine the "birth" of language and describe an originary event that might have produced the first structure, we discover that we must assume prior organization, prior differentiation. (Culler, 1982, pp. 95-96) my reading and the reading has rewritten my writing" (Bassnett, 1993, p. 156). 1 0 I use the term "deconstruction" discussed in Edwin Gentzler (2001). Gentzler writes that while "certain practitioners distance themselves from the term 'deconstruction' in favor of 'affirmative productivity' (Vance, 1985: 135-6), for the sake of clarity I will use the term deconstruction" (p. 145). 45 This ambiguity of meaning is reflected in readings, interpretations, and translations, and discussed in Jacques Derrida's deconstruction of translation in his Des Tours de Babel (1985). He "translates" Benjamin's Task of the Translator and complements his text "with regard to some larger whole, some wider context, some purer language" (Graham, 1985, p. 26). As the title suggests, he begins with questioning "Babel," saying that the '"tower of Babel' does not merely figure the irreducible multiplicity of tongues"11 but "exhibits an incompletion, the impossibility of finishing, of totalizing, of saturating, of completing something on the order of edification, architectural construction, system and architectonics" (p. 165). Babel represents "not only the multiplicity of languages but also the impossibility of a certain construction or completion due to something like a formal l i m i t . . . . of the word, for Babel is precisely the confusion of meaning and reference" (Graham, 1985, p. 27). Derrida's theoretical point, Gentzler (2001) writes, is that "there is no pure meaning, no thing to be presented behind language, nothing (in an absolute sense) to be represented," and accordingly translation is seen as "a process constantly in operation in single languages" (p. 167, emphasis in original). Meaning is never present as it is differential and deferred: "differance" "designates both a 'passive' difference already in place as the condition of signification and an act of differing which produces differences" (Culler, 1982, p. 97). Octavio Paz (1999) sees translation from the perspective of Derrida's deconstruction as a chain of signification: On the one hand, the world is presented to us as a collection of similarities; on the other, as a growing heap of texts, each slightly different from the one that came before it: translations of translations of translations. Each text is unique, yet at the same time it is the translation of another text. No text can be completely original 1 1 The translator of this text notes that "tongue" is used mostly to translate the French "langue," and the singular language is used to translate "langage." In English, a single word, "language," covers both French "langue" and "langage." 46 because language itself, in its very essence, is already a translation—first from the nonverbal world, and then, because such sign and each phrase is a translation of another sign, another phrase, (p. 154). His view suggests that translation is not a marginal or subordinate activity but a primary one, and that it is the only possibility. He further contends that literal translation is not translation; rather, it is "a mechanism, a string of words that helps us read the text in its original language" (ibid.). Thus the "original text never reappears in the new language.. .yet it is ever present because of the translation" (p. 155). Niranjana (1992) also suggests that Derrida's essay delineates the colonial use of translation, and that the work of Benjamin has become important to post-structuralists. Deconstructionists "go so far as to suggest that perhaps the translated text writes us (emphasis in original) and not we the translated text," (Gentzler, 2001, p. 146) thus undermining the authorship and authority of the original: While not offering a specific "translation theory" on its own, deconstruction.. .does "use" translation often both to raise questions regarding the nature of language and "being-in-language" as well as to suggest that in the process of translating texts, one can come as close as is possible to that elusive notion or experience of differance, which "underlies" their approach, (ibid.) Deconstruction can be seen as a reading strategy that resists Western universalist discourses by refusing to accept the authority of the original. Foucault is also influential as he challenges such discourses. In his essay "What Is an Author?" in Language, Counter-memory, Practice (1977), he addresses authorship and deconstructs traditional notions of original authorship, of original texts, and of translation equivalence. He discusses the author as "the unifying principle in a particular group of writings or statements, lying at the origins of their significance, as the seat of their coherence" (Foucault, 1977, p. 14). He thus argues that the author is a function of discourse; "the function of an 47 author is to characterize the existence, circulation, and operation of certain discourses within a society" (Foucault, 1977, p. 124). Gentzler (2001) suggests that "Foucault prefers not to think of the author as an actual individual, but as a series of subjective positions, determined not by any single harmony of effects, but by gaps, discontinuities, and breakages," (p. 150) and Foucault's conception of "the Modern versus the Classical Age" (p. 150) articulates the movement of translation theories. He helps us challenge the notion that translation is inferior to the original. The relationship between the original and translation, however, has been established through the notion that an author is the owner, as Foucault suggests, ignoring the role of a translator. For Foucault, the author is the ideological figure, allowing readers to believe that the meaning of language is clearly defined and understood. Asserting the death of the author suggests that language does not posit a simple ultimate meaning, helping educators to see the opening of a space where multiple meanings can be negotiated and shared by students. Expanding his critique of language, in his The Order of Things, Foucault (1994) argues that in the Classical period "to know nature is, in fact, to build upon the basis of language a true language, one that will reveal that conditions in which all language is possible and the limits within which it can have a domain validity" (p. 161); "language was a form of knowing and knowing was automatically discourse . . . . it was only by the medium of language that the things of the world could be known" (p. 296). Language, however, has since the end of the eighteenth century become "one object of knowledge among others, on the same level as living beings, wealth and value, and the history of events and men" (ibid.). As the author becomes a function of discourse, "dissolving into the text writing itself," (Gentzler, 2001, p. 152) the question becomes where the discourse of the text emerges. For Foucault, a discourse is a socially-constructed system of statements within which the world is understood, and it 48 determines the relationships among people. For translation studies, Foucault's work raises the question of the originality of the initial text, and thus "other determining factors emerge with regard to what can and cannot be thought within a particular discourse" (Gentzler, 2001, p. 153). The ideas developed by deconstructionists such as Derrida and post-structuralists such as Foucault make "interpretation a process of free association in which anything goes, though it does concentrate on conceptual and figural implications rather than on authorical intentions" (Culler, 1982, p. 110). DI.2.3. Metonymy Within semiotics, the conception of metonymy is derived from linguists such as Ferdinand de Saussure and Roman Jakobson, and psychoanalyst Jacques Lacan. Jakobson (1990) in On Language establishes the two structural relations in code and message—similarity (equivalence) and contiguity (temporal and spatial neighborhood)—and the corresponding tropes of metaphor (similarity) and metonymy (contiguity). Discussing the tension between the two, he suggests that they are the fundamental functions of language in operation. Jakobson argues that poetry is metaphorical while prose is metonymic. The conception of metonymy is not defined within the work of translation; however, it provides us with a valuable perspective for translating languages. Together with metaphor, it can delineate how language defines a space and how a space allows language to perform. Octavio Paz (1992) sees Jakobson's notion in translation, saying that all translation "utilizes the two modes of expression to which.. .all literary procedures are reduced: metonym and metaphor" (pp. 154-155): The original text never reappears in the new language (this would be impossible), yet 49 it is ever present because the translation, without saying it, expresses it constantly, or else converts it into a verbal object that, although different, reproduces it: metonym or metaphor. Both, unlike explicative translations and paraphrase, are rigorous forms that are in no way inconsistent with accuracy. The metonym is an indirect description, and the metaphor a verbal equation, (ibid., p. 155) The notion of metonymy can be found long before Jakobson in relation to translation, when, in 1813, Schleiermacher wrote a treatise, later published and translated as "On the Different Methods of Translation." Schleiermacher (1992) writes that the activity of translating is different from merely interpreting due to a translator's ambiguous relationship to language. In order to help readers to comprehend "the spirit of the language that was native to the writer" and to see "his peculiar way of thinking and feeling," the translator can offer only "his language" (p. 39). Schleiermacher points out that there are two approaches—paraphrase and imitation—that a translator might take; neither in his opinion can be regarded as good translation. However, paraphrase and imitation can be linked with Jakobson's metaphor and metonymy: Paraphrase seeks to overcome the irrationality of languages . . . . labors its way through an accumulation of loosely defined details, vacillating between a cumbersome "too much" and a tormenting "too little." In this way it can perhaps render the content with limited precision, but it completely abandons the impression made by the original... .Imitation, on the other hand, submits to the irrationality of languages. It concedes that no replica of a verbal work of art can be produced in another language that would correspond exactly in its individual parts to the individual parts of the original... .A work of this kind, taking into account the difference of language, morals and education, is supposed to be, as much as possible the same thing for its readers as the original was for its own readers; by trying to maintain this sameness of reaction, one sacrifices the identity of the work, (pp. 40-41) Paraphrase, like metaphor, is a vertical space within which the translated work conveys "limited precision" but "completely abandons" the spirit of the original. Imitation, like metonymy, is a horizontal space which provides an impression similar to the original but loses "the identity of the work" (ibid., p. 41). Although he did not explore the connection of the two, 5 0 he suggests that translation involves both vertical and horizontal movements between languages. The intersecting two movements, in other words, the relationship between metaphor and metonymy, is conceptualized by Lacan, following the work of Jakobson: Lacan is in fact attempting to deal with specific linguistic concepts employed by Saussure and other linguists, the "vertical" paradigmatic mode of language and the "linear" (horizontal) syntagmatic mode, which is another way of stating the opposition of synchrony ("the axis of simultaneities") to diachrony ("the axis of successivities"). (Wilden, 1981, p. 247). Through the interaction of metaphor (condensation, similarity, the paradigmatic) and metonymy (displacement, contiguity, the paradigmatic), signification or meaning is created: Metonymy represents the connection of "word to word" (mot a mot) in the signifying chain, or the combination of signifier to signifier (S... S'), and represents the subject's desire: metaphor—the substitution of "one word for another one" in which the first signifier is occulted and falls to the level of the signified while retaining its metonymic connection with the rest of the chain—represents the symptomatic passage across the bar of the Lacanian algorithm (s/s'). (Wilden, 1981, p. 113) Although this conception has not been discussed in translation studies, it helps to locate language in vertical (metaphor) and horizontal (metonymy) ways, indicating the process of translation and framing. Vertical translation creates a frame around language, whereas horizontal translation allows a space to expand, and the intersection of the two provides us with possibilities for shared space. In this intersection of metaphor and metonymy, identified as "Metonymy" with a capital " M , " Ted Aoki (1999) encourages educators and students to dwell: It is in this space of between that our teachers.. dwell, likely finding it a space of ambiguity, ambivalence, and uncertainty but simultaneously a vibrant site. It looks like a simple oppositional binary space, but it is not. It is a space of doubling;, where we slip into the language of "both this and that, but neither this nor that." (p. 181) Derrida's Aporias (1993) unfolds such language of "both this and that, but neither this nor that"—experiences of the borderworld: "the nonpassage, the impasse or aporia, stems from the fact that there is no limit. There is not yet or there is no longer a border to cross, no opposition 51 between two sides... .There is no longer a home [chez soi] and a not-home [chez I'autre]" (p. 20). Metonymy for Lacan is a displacement from signifier to signifier, which is the necessary condition for metaphor. Displacement through language is the translator's struggle. This struggle can be found in E L L students who lose their ways in a horizontal space, searching for meaning in English while teachers and NES students dwell in a vertical space, framed by English. Roland Barthes in his Mythologies discusses the role that metonymy can play. Barthes (2000) states that "myth is a language" (p. 11): in semiology, myths are conceived as sign systems, a relationship between signifier and signified through which cultural values and beliefs are defined. He writes about a semiological chain through three dimensional patterns—the signifier, the signified, and the sign, using the example of a sentence written in the Latin textbook, simply meaning "because my name is lion," which signifies "something else": I am faced with a particular, greater, semiological system, since it is co-existensive with the language: there is, indeed, a signifier, but this signifier is itself formed by a sum of signs, it is in itself a first semiological system (my name is lion). Thereafter, the formal pattern is correctly unfolded: there is a signified (I am a grammatical example) and there is a global signification which is none other than the correlation of the signifier and the signified; for neither the naming of the lion nor the grammatical example are given separately, (p. 124) He argues that the signifier presents itself in an ambiguous way: it is at the same time meaning and form, one full (the meaning) and one empty (the linguistic form), and the signified is "determined"; "it is at once historical and intentional; it is the motivation which causes the myth to be uttered" (p. 118). The concept "can spread over a very large expanse of signifier'" just as a word can "serve as a signifier to a concept filled with a very rich history," (p. 120) suggesting metonymy: We constantly drift between the object and its demystification, powerless to render its wholeness. For if we penetrate the object, we liberate it but we destroy it; and if we acknowledge its full weight, we respect it, but we restore it to a state which is still 52 mystified, (p. 159) The interpretive movement assumes the possibility that any sign can reinforce the value or belief embedded in language of a particular culture. The metonymic function is important for a post-colonial perspective. In The Empire Writes Back, Ashcroft, Griffiths, and Tiffin (1989) suggest that the concept of metonymy offers the possibility for transforming dominant discourse. Citing Bhabha's analysis of metaphor and metonymy, they write that the text as metaphor "imposes a universalist reading because metaphor makes no concessions to the cultural specificity of text" while the text as metonymy "symptomatizes the text, reading through its features the social, cultural and political forces which traverse it" (p. 52). They argue that language variance as metonymy of cultural difference is "a feature of all post-colonial texts" (p. 59): The writer "function" meets the reader "function" in the writing itself which dwells at the intersection of a vast array of cultural conditions. Such writing neither represents culture nor gives rise to a world-view, but sets the scene of a constitution of meaning. The strategies which such writing employs to maintain distance and otherness while appropriating the language are therefore a constant demonstration of the dynamic possibilities available to writing within the tension of'centre' and 'margin.' (p. 59) Translating language metonymically thus creates a space for language variance and allows translators/readers to examine a constitution of meaning. The conception of metonymy can be found in literary criticism. In her reading of Proust, Kristeva (1996) sees Metonymic doubling. She suggests that the process that Proust refers to as an 'analogy' or a 'metaphor' is quite different from the process that formal rhetoricians have described," (p. 212) implying the ambivalent character of the metaphor. She writes that "a Proustian analogy forms a condensation between two attributes, it functions as a metonymy... .a spatial connection—the by-product of the sign—provides a metonymic basis for most of Proust's metaphors" (p. 216). Although metonymy is intrinsic to metaphor, if 53 metonymy allows "action to occur within the space it creates, it requires characters who can fulfill their destiny through that very action" (p. 217). Ashcroft (2001) in his discussion of post-colonial literature writes that the "historical privileging of metaphor in identity is manifested yet again by this propensity to see truth predicated on a process of cultural incorporation. Such uses of language are metonymic" (pp. 78-79). This use of metonymy "overturns an attractive but decidedly Eurocentric theory of language development" (ibid. p. 79). Aoyagi (2003) agrees, saying that Bakhtin's carnivalesque is the embodiment of metonymy, producing a revolutionary space, by breaking a metaphoric vertical space. Metonymy thus plays a crucial role for transforming the framed dominant discourse. In the classroom , especially in E L L classes, languages and cultures are often approached metaphorically, assuming a definite meaning carried by language. But if students are given an opportunity to provide or even contest for such vertically signified meaning, they—both native- and non-native speakers of English—may be able to analyze language critically and reexamine their perspectives through different frames. H.2.4. Box Effect The conception of "box effect," or "Cassette Effect" in Japanese, was named and introduced by Yanabu Akira (1976), a Japanese scholar of translation and intercultural communication. (The conception "Cassette Effect" is loosely translated as "box effect" from the French "cassette" or small box.) Yanabu's theory has been developed from structuralism and from existing translated work. The box effect illustrates the translation process by which an idea new to a culture remote from the SL (source language) is introduced. Yanabu perceives the ambiguity of language which performs within a metonymic space through translation. 54 When a new idea is delivered through translation, there is no existing word to capture its meaning; so, a new word is created to translate the idea. Since the idea is new, so is the word; the meaning of the word is not clearly defined. Its novelty attracts people who begin to try it out, and eventually such a new word finds a place in society. Remember Wittgenstein. Language shifts and expands its meaning within the box that holds it, because the meaning of language is unstable while its meaning is ambiguous. Yanabu examines Eugene Nida's "science" of translation where equivalence is the focus. Nida applies Chomsky's generative grammar to translation based on biblical texts and suggests that a religious message is often difficult to communicate because of different cultural contexts: "meaning cannot be divorced from the personal experience and the conceptual framework of the person receiving the message" (Gentzler, 2001, p. 52). The difference between Nida and Chomsky is that Nida is concerned with cultural context. In seeking "to find the closest possible "equivalence," (Nida, 2000, p. 129) Nida discusses two basic orientations: first, formal equivalence and second, dynamic equivalence. Formal equivalence focuses on the form and content of TL, and "one is concerned that the message in the receptor language should match as closely as possible the different elements in the source language" (ibid.). Dynamic equivalence, on the other hand, is concerned that the "relationship between receptor and message should be substantially the same as that which existed between the original receptors and the message" (ibid.). Nida argues for dynamic equivalence and points out that "the linguistic and cultural distance between the codes used to convey the messages" (p. 130) is significant, in particular, when the distance is remote such as between English and Japanese. Gentzler (2001) observes that Nida "does not trust the readers to make up their own minds; in order to achieve the intended response, he has license to change, streamline, and simplify," and thus he "provides an excellent model for translation that involves a manipulation of a text to 55 serve the interests of a religious belief, but he fails to provide the groundwork for what the West in general conceives of as a 'science'" (p. 59). Nida, however, fails to consider the fact that language can shift its meaning as it is being used. Yanabu recognizes that fluidity of language. Dynamic equivalence is preferable, Yanabu argues, but existing Japanese words created by translation often result from pursuing formal equivalence (intentionally or forcefully). In translating English to Japanese, translators have traditionally translated noun to noun, verb to verb, adjective to adjective (or adverb in Japanese). New pronouns have been created in Japanese as there were originally few. A sentence structure (subject-verb) has also been established to reflect a typical translated sentence. However, as Nida contends, when language moves from one frame to another, one context to another, the meaning has to be transformed. Consider the word "futon," originally Japanese but now commonly used in English. The Japanese futon, traditional bedding used over centuries, is defined as follows: A thick bedquilt and a mattress; A set of mattress and quilt bedcover, both stuffed thick with cotton wool. They are spread on the tatami floor at night when one sleeps, and stowed away in a large closet in the morning. A blanket is also used together with the futon in cold weather (Yamaguchi & Kojima, 1979, p. 141) The idea of the English futon (phonologically the same as Japanese) was imported, and because there was no existing language to capture such an idea, the word "futon" was maintained. However, the sign, futon, has produced a meaning different from its original Japanese as it is used and adapted to North American culture: A futon is a piece of furniture which consists of a thin mattress on a low wooden frame which can be used as a bed or folded up to make a chair. (Collins Cobuild English Dictionary, 1995, p. 691) Although both the Japanese futon and English futon function as bedding, the English fiiton does not exist in the Japanese context, nor the Japanese futon in the English context. The 56 meaning of "sushi," a popular Japanese food in North America, also has shifted, expanded, and evolved within Yanabu's box, a space created by translation. North Americans may think that Japanese people often prepare and eat sushi at home. But in Japan, sushi comes in far fewer varieties, is usually prepared by professionals, and is eaten on special occasions. The English word, sushi, thus signifies a different entity from the Japanese word, sushi. Sushi has become hybrid as it has been adapted for North American culture. Futon or sushi appear to be cases of formal equivalence, as they deal with noun to noun translation of the same concept—bedding or food. Yanabu suggests, however, as these examples illustrate, that such equivalence is impossible, because language performs not within a vertically framed space but in a horizontal metonymic space in the process of translation. Umberto Eco (2001) would agree: "Uttered in different countries, [translated words] produce different effects and they are used to refer to different habits. They produce different stories" (p. 18). Yanabu argues that our world is framed where the meaning of language is vertically defined. When encountering a new idea or sign, people try to adjust to it within a closed framework because that makes them comfortable and secure, but they are often not aware of a space generated by the chain of signification. The idea of the box shows that translation is not transformation which originates from the same structure, he contends, but is rather deconstruction in which nothing is definite behind language. Yanabu demonstrates that E L L students might understand the meaning of language differently from the dictionary definition, which may prevent them from delivering their thoughts the way they intend. Instead of expecting E L L students to acquire vertically defined meanings of language, educators, together with students, should explore how the meanings of language can be constructed. Yanabu's theory will be examined further in Chapter Three. 57 n.2.5. Polysystem Theory Polysystem theory was developed by Itamar Even-Zohar, a scholar from Tel Aviv, in the early 1970's. He and his colleagues, focusing on the role of translated literature in a particular literary system, define literature as a polysystem of "interrelated forms and canons that constitute 'norms' constraining the translator's choices and strategies (Venuti, 2000, p. 123). Considering the translation's socio-cultural dimension, polysystem theory refers "to the entire network of correlated systems—literary and extraliterary—within society, and developed and approached.. .to attempt to explain the function of all kinds of writing within a given culture—from the central canonical texts to the most marginal non-canonical texts" (Gentzler, 2001, p. 114). The theory emerges not from "major" literatures or languages such as German, French, or Anglo-American, but from "minor" literatures and languages such as Hebrew where, due to lack of a canon of literary work, people have to depend upon translated texts to provide depth and variety: To "understand one's past, one's identity, an understanding of translation in and of itself is crucial; translation ceases to be an elite intellectual 'game,' a footnote to literary scholarship, but becomes fundamental to the lives and livelihood of everyone in the entire region (and maybe the world)" (Gentzler, 2001, p. 105). Because of its origin, polysystem theory helps us to examine translation particularly involving "minor" languages and literatures, such as Japanese. In "The Position of Translated Literature within the Literary Polysystem," Even-Zohar (2000) argues for the importance of considering translated literature as a system: "I conceive of translated literature not only as an integral system within any literary polysystem, but as a most active system within it... .Whether translated literature becomes central or peripheral, and whether this position is connected with innovatory ("primary") or conservatory ("secondary") repertoires, depends on the specific constellation of the polysystem under study" 58 (p. 193). Literature, through translation, can bring new features (both principles and elements) into home literature. He discusses three circumstances in which translated literature can take a central position: first, when "a literature is "young," in the process of being established"; second, when "a literature is either 'peripheral' (with a large group of correlated literatures) or 'weak,' or both"; and finally, when "there are turning points, crises, or literary vacuums in a literature" (p. 194). For instance, in the Hebrew literary polysystem, between the two world wars literature translated from the Russian assumed an unmistakable central position, while works translated from English, German, Polish, and other languages assumed an obviously peripheral one. Moreover, since the major and most innovatory translational norms were produced by translations from the Russian, other translated literature adhered to the models and norms elaborated by those translations, (pp. 195-196) Shuttleworth (2001) suggests that polysystem theory provides scholars with important insight: "to view translation as one specific instance of the more general phenomenon of inter-systematic transfer"; "to focus on the translated text as an entity existing in the target polysystem in its own right"; "to suggest explanations for translation phenomena.. within the more general context of inter-systemic transfer" (p. 178). Polysystem theory offers educational potential, as it provides educators with a new way of exploring what E L L students can bring to the classroom, taking their part in shaping new ideas and thoughts. Some scholars (e.g., Lefevere, 1983; Genzler, 2001) point out the incompleteness of polysystem theory; nevertheless, it demonstrates "an advance in the development of translation studies, specifically, and translation theory in general" (Genzler, 2001, p. 123): By expanding the theoretical boundaries of traditional translation theory, based all too frequently on linguistic models or underdeveloped literary theories, and embedding translated literature into a larger cultural context, Even-Zohar opened the way for translation theory to advance beyond perspective aesthetics, (ibid.) Even-Zohar writes that "not only is the socio-literary status of translation dependent upon its position within the polysystem, but the very practice of translation is also strongly subordinated 59 to that position" (p. 197). His conception helps to analyze translated literature in relation to the development of literature within the target language. Polysystem theory has recently addressed the issues of imperialistic translation, questioning ideology in translation (e.g., Robyns, 1994).12 A hermeneutic approach to conceptions of translation reveals the ambiguous nature of language particularly when crossing borderlines between frames. Such ambiguities are often unnoticed because one language tends to define the meaning vertically, commonly accepted by native speakers of the language; however, they vanish when language performs across cultures. If ambiguities are realized, critically examined, and shared among students from different linguistic and cultural backgrounds, the classroom can become a frameless space where students can equally contribute to build knowledge. The following section explores further how these ambiguities are created historically and culturally. II.3. Sociocultural/Political Approaches This section expands its focus on language that creates a generative space to include in that space sociocultural and political elements. Exploring language as historically and ideologically constructed helps educators analyze the student's sense of cultural hierarchy which may place some students outside of the frame. The following conceptions are not always directly concerned with practical translation activities; yet, they address issues crucial to education while being linked to the conceptions of translation discussed in the previous section. Because language produces meaning as it is used, and because language constructs a world view, translating nation, self, or culture is problematic. This section is divided into four 1 2 Robyns is regarded as a descriptive theorist, and "it would be wrong to conclude that there is an 60 sub-sections; however, the issues overlap and evolve into a final sub-section on post-colonial translation studies as they address ideological concerns and inequities in translation. n.3.1. Third Space Because it evokes interaction, translation has the potential to crack the solid lines of a frame and create a new space—a border world, the contact zone. Homi Bhabha (1990) offers a way of theorizing this space which he calls a Third Space, the space produced by the process of displacement and transformation within and across cultures. His conception of Third Space is interpreted by translation scholars as an interstitial space created by translation.13 Bhabha (1994) suggests that multiculturalism implies a host society or dominant culture which defines itself within its own "grid" and defines everyone else—everyone culturally "different"—as outside the grid. Third Space, he argues, has "a colonial or post-colonial provenance" (p. 38): "For a willingness to descend into that alien territory.. .may reveal that the theoretical recognition of the split-space of enunciation may open the way to conceptualizing an z'wfernational culture, based . . . on the inscription and articulation of culture's hybridity" (ibid.). He (1990a) asserts that the "articulation of culture is possible not because of the familiarity or similarity of contents, but because all cultures are symbol-forming and subject-constituting, interpellative practices" (p. 210): Cultures are only constituted in relation to that otherness internal to their own symbol-forming activity which makes them decentred structures—though that displacement or liminality opens up the possibility of articulating different, even incommensurable, cultural practices and priorities, (pp. 210-211) He argues further that "the act of cultural translation denies the essentialism of a prior given isomorphism between descriptive theorists" and post-colonial theorists. (Evans, 2001, p. 153). 1 3 See, for example, Michaela Wolf (2000) "The Third Space in Postcolonial Representation," or Yangsheng Guo (2002) Chinese Translation of the West: A History for a Global Era. 61 original or originary culture," which enables us to see that "all forms of culture are continually in a process of hybridity"; "the importance of hybridity is not to be able to trace two original moments from which the third emerges"; rather it "is the 'third space' which enables other positions to emerge" (p.211). Bhabha's Third Space is not an identity but an identification, "a process of identifying with and through another object, and object of otherness, at which point the agency of identification—the subject—is itself always ambivalent, because of the intervention of that otherness" (ibid.). Hybridity "bears the traces of those feelings and practices which inform it, just like a translation, so that hybridity puts together the traces of certain other meanings or discourses," and the process of hybridity gives rise to "a new arena of negotiation of meaning and representation" (ibid.).14 If a complete translation of subjects or of form of culture is impossible, his notion of Third Space is what translation might be able to offer, as Bhabha (1994) suggests: [Translation] is the performative nature of cultural communication. It is language in actu (enunciation, positionality) rather than language in situ {enonce, or propositionality). And the sign of translation continually tells, or 'tolls' the different times and spaces between cultural authority and its performative practices, (p. 228) In his discussion of The Satanic Verses, Bhabha writes that if "hybridity is heresy, then to blaspheme is to dream... .it is the dream of translation as 'survival' as Derrida translates the 'time' of Benjamin's concept of the after-life of translation, as sur-vivre, the act of living on borderlines" (p. 227).1 5 He suggests that the newness of migrant or minority discourse as 1 4 Ashcroft (2001) terms hybridity "horizontal," as it demonstrates "the complexity of subjectivity and the potency available to any questioning of boundaries" (p. 187). This horizontality can help us perceive the "blurring of boundaries as a strategy of empowerment" (p. 188). 1 5 Translation can be a dangerous task, as it may open up "a space of discursive contestation" (Bhabha, 1994, p. 226). Consider the Japanese scholar and translator, Igarashi Hitoshi, who translated Salmon Rushdie's The Satanic Verses, and was killed in his university office in 1991, a year after it was published in Japan. Another Japanese scholar, Imaba Shigemi (1996) writes that Igarashi translated the book, as Igarashi, as a Japanese, was searching for a space of conciliation between the conflicting Anglo-American world and the Islamic world; he could mediate between the binary opposition of right and wrong, and help achieve real internationalization—not an international control. He, as a translator, might have hoped to create a third 62 cultural translation is similar to Benjamin's "foreignness of languages," which describes the "performativity of translation as the staging of cultural difference" (p. 227). Bhabha moves into the performativity of translation as the possibilities of survival: I am more engaged with the 'foreign' element that reveals the interstitial; insists in the textile superfluity of folds and wrinkles, and becomes the 'unstable element of linkage,' the indeterminate temporality of the in-between, that has to be engaged in creating the conditions through which 'newness comes into the world, (ibid.) Bhabha (1994) suggests that "it is the 'inter'—the cutting edge of translation and negotiation, the in-between space—that carries the burden of the meaning of culture," and by exploring a "Third Space, we may elude the politics of polarity and emerge as the others of ourselves" (p. 39). If we can become "the others of ourselves," a place would be frameless. Searching for and building such in-between spaces—the border world or the third space—holds hope for future education. For Celia Haig-Brown or Mary Louise Pratt, this border world might be the intersecting space created by colonizer and colonized.16 Ted Aoki (1996) writes about a bridge between spaces, such as East and West, saying that educators and business people tend to think about crossing a bridge between two places, but that "we are in no hurry to cross over; in fact, such bridges urge us to linger," because they "are dwelling places for people," inviting them "to transcend instrumentalism, to understand what it means to dwell together humanly" (p. 6). The Third space provides educators with a new perspective, suggesting that the classroom can be a generative space in which students become hybrid, observing otherness as a part of themselves. space, searching for fragments of Benjamin's vessel. This cost him his life. 1 6 Pratt (1991) does not discuss the contact zone in terms of Bhabha's exact sense of generative third space, "the complexities of interaction in the contact zone," (p. 44) but maintains the possible space created by both the colonizer and the colonized. 63 n.3.2. Translating Nationhood If translation can create a third space, translation can release nation and race from a rigid frame. Hermeneutic conceptions of translation uncover the complexity of nationhood in relation to race. For example, if someone is biologically "pure" Japanese or even "mixed" Japanese, recognized by her physical attributes, she is perceived as a member of the Japanese race and thus belongs to the framework of Japan. One's race, religion or ethnic origin is commonly (and often wrongly) considered to identify the individual and to fix where they belong. A flag or national anthem may symbolize the United States, Canada, or Japan, but even within a nation where diverse ethnic groups coexist, such symbols do not always translate as an individual's nationhood. What does it mean to be Japanese then? As meaning, "Japanese" has been constructed geographically, historically, and politically through Western dominant discourse. Barthes writes (2000) that the "meaning is already complete, it postulates a kind of knowledge, a past, a memory, a comparative order of facts, ideas, decisions. When it becomes form, the meaning leaves its contingency behind; it empties itself, it becomes impoverished, history evaporates, only the letter remains" (p. 117). The emptiness of the form calls us into constructing meaning. Nationhood is a construct of the dominant culture; the "oriental" subject is the result of the European imperialist desire to conceptualize the identity of colonized subject. By creating stereotypes, and constructing inaccurate cultural attributes, the imperial power is able to control the identity of the Other. Even after "Western society as a whole has turned into an immense contact zone, where intercultural relations contribute to the internal life of all national cultures," (Simon, 1999, p. 58) race is what divides people into the hierarchical framework and continues to reinforce the static link between race and nation. The media or translated books contribute to the production of the stereotyped images. 64 This "immense contact zone" has created the identities of individuals whose race or nationality is lost in the untranslatable. In his "Turning In, Turning Out: The Shifting Formation of'Japanese Canadian' from Uprooting to Redress," Roy Miki (2003), who was born in Winnipeg in 1942 as a sansei (the third generation of Japanese descent) and is a writer as well as professor of English writes about hyphenated Japanese-Canadian identity: Even if "Japanese Canadian" (JC) has been a given—or what has been given [him]—for more years than memory can safely retrieve, it has never remained static and autonomous; rather it has been contingent and mobile, producing in its mediated relationships a network of signifying effects—effects that have been unpredictable, sometimes turbulent, sometimes imprisoning, sometimes liberating, and sometimes dumbfounding, (p. 25) Miki examines the history of how the "Japanese Canadian" identity has been constructed and shifted through "negotiations with a powerful network of social, political and cultural formations already premised on their 'alien' status" (p. 31). "Japanese Canadian" was a construct reflecting the political maneuver of multiculturalism; once "enemy alien" they later became "friendly Canadianized alien" (p. 29). The naming he suggests is powerful: As many cultural theorists have cautioned, naming is always a situated act with differential consequences depending on who is doing the naming, who is being named, and how the name signifies in its social, political, and cultural effects. As a naming of a group of Canadian subjects, "Japanese Canadian" needs to be approached as a construct that has never been stable in its referential reach, and yet it has also been historically attached to those who have both identified themselves and have been identified through its circulation, (p. 41) The term "Japanese" is equally unstable, and for Miki signifies a meaning different from mine. In the 1970s, he went to Japan and lived there, making him realize that he would never be Japanese in the crowd of Tokyo, even though he "was transparent" with his "Japanese-identified body" (p. 27). At this point he turned away "from Japan as a point of origin" and came back to "Canada as the site of future critical work" as a Japanese Canadian (ibid). How can the individual translate the self? The concept of nation as equal to race does 65 not help Miki to translate who he is. It not only works against those whose physical attributes differentiate them from the dominant culture, but also, in Miki 's case, those who look like the dominant culture. In his Nation and Narration, Bhabha (1990) writes that nations, "like narratives, lose their origins in the myths of time and only fully realize their horizons in the mind's eye" (p. 1): Such an image of the nation—or narration—might seem impossibly romantic and excessively metaphorical, but it is from those traditions of political thought and literary language that the nation emerges as a powerful historical idea in the west. An idea whose cultural compulsion lies in the impossible unity of the nation as a symbolic force, (ibid.) He reminds us that the construction of discourse of the nation is "the Janus-faced ambivalence of language" (p. 3). The nation-space is always "in the process of articulation of elements," and thus understanding "the performativity of language in the narratives of the nation" is critical (ibid). Education systems too often drive a nationalism which excludes the other, reminding educators of the significance of freeing language from such a force. n.3.3. Transforming Self The idea of translation is used to explore issues related to identity. When moving from one culture to another, one language to another, not only a world changes, but also identities shift. Many E L L students may experience an "identity crisis," a concept introduced by Erik Erikson (1963) to describe the sense of loss resulting from being separated from their home culture. Who am I? Many philosophers have searched for the answer. Plato in the Phaedo argues that we are made of body which is seen and changing, and soul which is unseen and unchanging; soul is eternal. For Descartes, "I think therefore I am" (cogito ergo sum). The self is independent and thus one's mind establishes absolute certainty about oneself. Others argue 66 the unstable nature of the self. Hume argues that "I" is a bundle of sensations, constantly changing as one has new experiences; Merleau-Ponty explores human experience and the identity of "the subject—the experiencing 'self—with the bodily organism" (Abram, 1997, p. 45): Most of us are accustomed to consider the self, our innermost essence, as something incorporeal. Yet, consider: Without this body, without this tongue or these ears, you could neither speak nor hear another's voice. Nor could you have anything to speak about, or even to reflect on, or to think, since without any contact, any encounter, without any glimmer of sensory experience, there could be nothing to question or to know, (ibid.) For Merleau-Ponty, the experience is thus not independent from the body, but the body—"the sensuous and sentient life" (ibid.)—experiences the world. Translating oneself challenges not only the fluidity of the self but also the uncertainty of whether or not "I" is a completely free and equal individual. George Mead (1977) analyzes the self which is constructed through interacting with others: the " T becomes self-conscious only in so far as it can imagine how it is seen by others, and responds accordingly" (Edger, 2001, p. 185). Naoki Sakai (1999) agrees: the "relation to the self cannot be determined unless the relation to the other has already been determined"; "when dealing with the problem of identity in cultural and social contexts.. the relation to the other logically precedes that to the self—the process in which "the comparative framework of Japan (the self) and the West (the other) is installed" (p. 51). The sociologist Emile Durkheim also questions the liberalist concept of the individual, arguing that the individual is "a product of society" (Edger, 2001, p. 184). Foucault's works on madness and sexuality suggests that the self is constructed within discourses (the dominant group in society constructs the identity of the self and the other), leading to Said's analysis of Orientalism. In translating herself, Fan Shen (1998) writes of her experience of learning English, an 67 experience which has shaped her identity. She writes that her ideological (the system of values that she acquired through her sociocultural background as Chinese) and logical (the natural way she organizes and expresses her thoughts in writing) identities had to be modified and redefined in studying English composition. To "be yourself," as many writing instructors suggest, is a cultural value promoting individuality which she finds difficult to grasp: In China, "I" is always subordinated to "We"—be it the working class, the Party, the country, or some other collective body. Both political pressure and literary tradition require that "I" be somewhat hidden or buried in writing and speeches; presenting the "self too obviously would give people the impression of being disrespectful of the Communist Party in political writing and boastful in scholarly writings. The word "I" has become a synonym for selfishness in China, (p. 124) As a "Chinese person, in the fullest sense of the term, with a Chinese identity already fully formed" (p. 127), she has to learn what it means to be "I" and "self in a society where people speak English. When she writes a composition in English she has to "wrestle with and abandon . . . the whole system of ideology which previously defined" her (p. 125). She writes that learning to write in English is "in fact a process of creating and defining a new identity and balancing it with the old identity" and suggests that the traditional advice of E L L instructors such as "Be yourself or "Don't translate" is not helpful to Asian students, as it implies that students should abandon their original language and culture. Her experience illustrates how conceptions of translation can help us reconsider the ways in which we approach language in educational settings. In "Second Language Learning as Participation and the (Re)construction of Selves," Pavlenko and Lantolf (2000) analyze language learning from a sociocultural perspective.17 They follow George Mead's argument that "because of the personal agency involved in shaping a life, it was necessary to develop a methodology 'that would provide information 1 7 See Chapter Four for further discussion. 68 about the person's own self-interpretation of his or her actions'" (p. 158). Examining autobiographical works of writers whose English is not their first language, they discuss the path to self-translation. They argue that this "border crossing" is "a profound struggle to reconstruct a self (p. 174). The participants of their study have to translate themselves in narratives from old to new; "crossing a cultural border is about 'renarratizing' a life" (ibid.): Their personal narratives and, consequently, their 'self were constructed in a time and place constrained by conventions that differ from conventions of their present time and place . . . . To overcome this difficulty, they are forced to reorganize, and in some cases, organize anew, the plots of their life stories in line with the new set of conventions and social relationships sanctioned by the new community in which they find themselves, (p. 172) Rushdie (2001) would agree: "[b]orn into one language, Urdu, I've made my life and work in another. Anyone who has crossed a language frontier will readily understand that such a journey involves a form of shape-shifting, or self-translation" (p. 374). As Spivak (2000) writes, "language may be one of many elements that allow us to make sense of things, of ourselves . . . . Making sense of ourselves is what produces identity" (p. 397). The struggle to translate the self is similar to the translator's struggle. As language shifts, meaning shifts. As the relationships with others change, meanings change. The self is almost a chain of translation. The individual, if such a concept exists in society, perceives the self by translating/interpreting the relationship with other people within the culture through language. In a sense, the self is already a product of translation. When border-crossing occurs, the individual is forced not only to translate the self into a new language, but also the relationship with people in a new culture where she is translated by other people, which is in turn translated by her. In his discussion about Merleau-Ponty, David Abram (1997) ponders "the event of perception," (p. 50) reflecting on the impossibility of perceiving "the interior density" beneath the surface. He talks about the clay bowl resting on the table: 69 While examining its outer surface I have caught only a glimpse of the smooth and finely glazed inside of the bowl. When I stand up to look down into that interior, which gleams with curved reflections from the skylight overhead, I can no longer see the unglazed outer surface . . . . There can be no question of ever totally exhausting the presence of the bowl with my perception; its very existence as a bowl ensures that there are dimensions wholly inaccessible to me—most obviously the patterns hidden between its glazed and unglazed surfaces, the interior density of its clay body. If I break it into pieces, in hopes of discovering these interior patterns or the delicate structure of its molecular dimensions, I will have destroyed its integrity as a bowl; far from coming to know it completely, I will simply have wrecked any possibility of coming to know it further, having traded the relation between myself and the bowl for a relation to a collection of fragments, (p. 51) How do I know who I am? I might be able to translate myself but only through the gaze of an Other. Self-translation is like understanding this bowl. I might be able to perceive a part of myself in relation to a particular view of a particular group of people, but I am never able to perceive myself as a whole. Even if I attempt to see "the interior density," I simply "wreck any possibility of coming to know" the self. n.3.4. Post-colonial Translation A post-colonial18 approach to translation provides translation studies with an important direction as it concerns the production of knowledge constructed and manipulated by the use of translation under imperialism.19 Since the 1980s, translation studies have developed beyond a European focus, to include scholars in India, Africa, and Latin America I use hyphenated "post-colonial," suggested by Ashcroft (2001): "the hyphen is a statement about the particularity, the historically and culturally grounded nature of the experience it represents... The hyphen in 'post-colonial' is a.. .political notation which has very great deal to say about the materiality of political oppression" (p. 10). He argues that "postcolonial" has come to "represent an increasingly indiscriminate attention to cultural difference and marginality of all kinds, whether consequence of the historical experience of colonialism or not" (ibid.). 1 9 Ashcroft (2001) defines post-colonial studies which "developed as a way of addressing the cultural production of those societies affected by the historical phenomenon of colonialism. In this respect it was never conceived of as a grand theory but as a methodology: first for analysing the many strategies by which colonized societies have engaged imperial discourse; and second, for studying the ways in which many of those strategies are shared by colonized societies, re-emerging in very different political and cultural circumstances" (p. 7). 70 (Bassnett, 1991). Post-colonial literary theories have emerged and problematized Western traditions of thought and literature which marginalize and exclude those of non-Western origin. The history of translation reflects this power of language, providing us "with a uniquely accessible series of selective, cultural constructions of'other' and therefore with a mass of privileged material to observe the workings of cultural self-definition" (Hermans, 2000, p. 15). The post-colonial approach to translation focuses upon the politics of translation, as it exposes the traditional Enlightenment view of understanding the Other and examines translation as the site of a power struggle; translated texts, it argues, produce hegemonic cultural values. Theorizing language and culture has been the central issue in post-colonial literature. Although the study of the effects of imperialism upon colonized societies had a long history outside the West, it arrived in the Western academy in the 1970s. The Empire Writes Back by Bill Ashcroft, Gareth Griffiths, and Helen Tiffin (1989) is the first critical reader of post-colonialism20 (Moore-Gilbert, 1997). In it, they suggest that the concept of post-colonial discourse is derived from Foucault's sense of discourse as "a system of possibility for knowledge" and "grounded on a struggle for power—that power focused in the control of the metropolitan language" (Ashcroft, Griffiths, & Tiffin, 1989, p. 167). Truth, they argue, is "what counts as true within the system of rules for a particular discourse," and power is what "annexes, determines, and verifies truth" (ibid.). In his Orientalism, Said (1978) also discusses power and its production of truth. The Orient is not "an inert fact of nature" or "merely there, just as the Occident itself is not just there either" (p. 5, emphasis in original). The Orient was constituted by the European mind. He writes that "the Orient is an idea that has a history and a 2 0 The prefix "post" seems to be problematic as to how it defines historical periods. For example, Aijaz Ahmad (1992) argues that colonialism can mean anything from back to the Incas to the Indonesian occupation of East Timor and thus becomes "a transhistorical thing, always present and always in process of dissolution in one part of the world or another" (p. 9). Others say that the term includes 71 tradition of thought, imagery, and vocabulary that have given it reality and presence in and for the West" (p. 5). Ashcroft et al. (1989) suggest that the "struggle for power over the truth in some sense 'mimics' the metropolitan impulse of dominance," (p. 168) and critics such as Homi Bhabha address this problem. Post-colonialism has been examined and discussed in regards to different conditions: colonized countries such as in Africa, Asia, Latin America, and the Caribbean; internally colonized European communities such as the Irish; Third World 2 1 pre- and post-independence nations; the European-settled ex-colonies of Australia, New Zealand, Canada, and the United States, and indigenous peoples in those countries; and diasporas resulting from slavery and forced migration. As well, class, gender, race, and sexual orientations have been studied within those contexts. Even though translation is "always embedded in cultural and political systems, and in history," (Bassnett & Trivedi, 1999, p. 6) it tended to be seen as an aesthetic act; thus post-colonial translation studies address ideological problems which had been hitherto disregarded. Recent translation criticism particularly addresses this issue: Translation does not happen in a vacuum, but in a continuum; it is part of an ongoing process of intercultural transfer. Moreover, translation is a highly manipulative activity that involves all kinds of stages in that process of transfer across linguistic and cultural boundaries. Translation is not an innocent, transparent activity but is highly charged with significance at every stage; it rarely, if ever, involves a relationship of equality between texts, authors or systems. (Bassnett & Trivedi, 1999, p. 2) Vicente Rafael (1988), a post-colonial critic, in his study of Spanish colonization in the Philippines, for example, suggests that translation for the Spanish was meant to reduce the Tagalog language and culture to "accessible objects for and subjects of divine and imperial decolonized/neocolonized cultures under the control of capitalist economies. 2 1 Ashcroft et al. (1995) write that post-colonial theory rejects the "egregious classification" of First and Third World and "contests the lingering fallacy that the post-colonial is somehow synonymous with the economically 'underdeveloped" (p. 3). I agree with their position but will continue to use this term, because I feel that it can usefully contextualize the Japanese situation later in my discussion. 72 intervention," and for the Tagalogs, it "was a process less of internalizing colonial-Christian conventions than of evading their totalizing grip by repeatedly marking the differences between their language and interests and those of the Spaniards" (p. 213). Similarly, Eric Cheyfitz's The Poetics of Imperialism: Translation and Colonization from 'The Tempest' to Tarzan (1991) or Tejaswini Niranjana's Siting Translation: History, Post-structuralism, and the Colonial Context (1992) argue that translation has been involved in appropriation of the vanquished cultures. This standpoint leads some scholars to reject English as a hegemonic "world language," contesting the use of the English language for such purposes. These scholars criticize others who work within English as elitist and disengaged from post-colonial theories as these are still Westernized and not yet speaking of the colonized situations and their people. Other scholars perhaps "give up translating altogether, since translation, however respectful of the origin, is always also appropriation" (France, 2000, p. 10). Niranjana (1992) in Siting Translation argues that translation is a significant site for challenging representation, power, and historicity, saying that translation "as a practice shapes, and takes shapes within, the asymmetrical relations of power that operate under colonialism" (p. 2). Like Cheyfitz, Niranjana reveals how translated texts function as instruments of colonialism. British colonialism enforced English education in India, and Orientalist translation of English language texts constructed the cultural hierarchy and distorted images of India and its cultures. She states that her work belongs to "the larger context of the 'crisis' in 'English' that is a consequence of the impact of structuralism and post-structuralism on literary studies in a rapidly decolonizing world" (p. 5). She criticizes the liberal humanist ideology which "endorsed and was perpetuated by the civilizing mission of colonialism" and is reflected in discourses of literature and criticism. This is what Derrida calls the logocentric or ontotheological metaphysics involving "all the traditional conceptions of representation, 73 translation, reality, unity and knowledge" (ibid). She begins making her point as she describes the translation work of William Jones who was sent to India in 1783 to serve the Supreme Court in Calcutta under Britain's need to "obtain information about the people ruled by the merchants of the East India Company" (p. 11). She then delineates how translated legal, literary, and educational texts were used as a means of British colonization. Such Orientalist translations of Indian language texts manipulated people to accept the authority of translated texts and the cultural identity constructed through translation. In her concluding chapter, she shows three different translated texts of the poem written in Kannada, a South Indian language, to suggest her notion of the practice of translation that is "speculative, provisional, and interventionist" (p. 173). By challenging hegemonic representations of the non-Western world, her work has contributed to translation studies, pursuing an agenda close to what Robinson (1993) suggested when he wrote that "a radical exploration of the liberatory effects of literalism, pursued vigorously and unflinchingly enough, might well break important new ground in the quest for a solution," even if this "may be the task for translation theorists in the years to come" (p. 124). Post-colonial scholars reveal the historically-constructed imperial power of English, resulting in placing non-English speaking people and their cultures on the margins. Educators must realize that such power relationships established in English affect students' perceptions of self and other, and that these perceptions may even unintentionally create boundaries or hierarchy in the classroom. Gayatri Spivak (2000), in her essay The Politics of Translation, also explores translation as a cultural and political practice through a feminist, post-structuralist lens. Post-structuralism, she writes, "has shown some of us a staging of the agent within a three-tiered notion of language (as rhetoric, logic, silence)"; we "must attempt to enter or 74 direct that staging, as one directs a play, as an actor interprets a script. That takes a different kind of effort from taking translation to be a matter of synonym, syntax and local color" (p. 399). Like Derrida, de Man, or Niranjana, Spivak is concerned with the rhetoric which "may be disrupting logic in the matter of the production of an agent, and indicating the founding violence of the silence at work within rhetoric," and suggests that rhetoric "must work in the silence between and around words in order to see what works and how much" (ibid). The translator, she writes, first "must surrender to the text" (p. 400); she "must solicit the text to show the limits of its language, because that rhetorical aspect will point at the silence of the absolute fraying of language that the text wards off, in its special manner" (ibid.). She claims that translation is the "most intimate act of reading"; a translator "cannot surrender to the text, cannot respond to the special call of the text" unless she "has earned the right to become the intimate reader" (ibid.). She suggests that the relationship "between logic and rhetoric, between grammar and rhetoric, is also a relationship between social logic, social reasonableness and the disruptiveness of figuration in social practice" (p. 403). This is important for translating Third World literatures, because "without a sense of the rhetoricity of language, a species of neocolonialist construction of the non-western scene is afoot" (p. 399). Her essay illustrates that the rhetorical process and power of translation are political and suggests that "[different social situations can change the political valence of a translation" (p. 338), and that political practice might bring about social change. As translation has been used to facilitate colonization and to construct representation, the choice of particular texts chosen to be translated into particular languages is an important issue for post-colonial scholars of translation. As meaning is socially constructed, English as the language of translation may appropriate and domesticate the original texts. Venuti (2001) suggests that such "domestication," involving an "adherence to domestic literary canons both 75 in choosing a foreign text and in developing a translation method" has been a common practice in the French and English translation traditions (p. 241). Domestication in translation can be used to serve a social and political agenda and thus be seen as a form of colonization. Scholars who are concerned about socio-cultural and political context, on the other hand, utilize "foreignization," which "seeks to evoke a sense of the foreign" (p. 242): A "foreignizing strategy can signify the difference of the foreign text only by assuming an oppositional stance toward the domestic, challenging literary canons, professional standards, and ethical norms in the target language" (ibid.). Even though foreignization leads readers to get lost in translation, it at the same time helps them appreciate difference and encourages them to move into the intersection of two texts to explore further. Post-colonial writers use different strategies to translate texts. One example is maintaining native language words in the English texts. Considering "links between the constitutive nature of meaning, and the transformative use of language," Ashcroft (2001) suggests that a writer can "represent his or her world to the colonizer (and others) in the metropolitan language, and at the same time, to signal and emphasize a difference from it" (p. 75).2 2 Those who see English as a hegemonic "world language" perceive that post-colonial theories are still Westernized; they insist that such Westernized post-colonial theories should be rejected and disengaged from post-colonial studies. Responding to this call to reject English, some post-colonial writers capable of writing in English choose instead to write only in their native tongue. Others argue that such a nativist approach creates the polarization which Bassnett and Trivedi (1999) talk about in regard to post-colonial translation practice in India. The question is whether "the Empire can translate back only into English, or into that lower or 2 2 The term "metonymic gap" is used to define such writing: "a cultural gap is formed when appropriations of a colonial language insert unglossed words, phrases or passages from a first language, or concepts, 76 at least lower-case variety of it, english,"23 or if "a post-colonial thrust is being written equally or even more abundantly in languages other than English" (p. 11). If a work is not translated into English, however, it is likely to remain unknown to post-colonial discourse. Ngugi wa Thiong (2003) in his "Imperialism of Language," translated from the Gikuyu into English, embraces the role that translation plays: Through translations, the different languages of the world can speak to one another. European languages have always communicated with one another such that today it is possible to read nearly all the classics of Russian, French, or German literature and philosophy in any of those languages, thanks to the art of translation, (p. 180) What concerns him is that "there is very little mutual translation between African languages and, say, English and French. And the colonial dominance of English and French in African lives had made African languages so suspicious of one another that there is hardly any inter-African communication" (ibid.). He suggests that English must "work hard to remove" such negative qualities as racism, sexism, national chauvinism, and negative images of other nationalities and races so as to meet the criteria of acceptance as a language for the world" (p. 181). That is what he assumes fosters democracy among nations. Other post-colonial writers, like Salman Rushdie, write in English, because, as Bassnett and Trivedi write, Rushdie "has already translated himself into becoming an English-language writer"; "the fact of his having abandoned both his native language and his native location has played a crucial constitutive role" (p. 12). They support writing in English, arguing that for many Third World writers like Rushdie such "translingual, translocational translation has been the necessary first step to becoming a post-colonial writer" (p. 12). Rushdie (2003) acknowledges that its "continuing use of the old colonial tongue is seen as a allusions or references that may be unknown to the reader" (Ashcroft, Griffiths, & Tiffin, 1999, p. 139). 2 3 Ashcroft et al (1989) distinguish English which refers to " 'standard' British English inherited from the empire" from english which refers to the language it "has become in post-colonial countries" (p. 8). 77 fatal flaw that renders it forever inauthentic" (p.248). He points out, however, that a "generation of gifted Indian writers in English is bringing into English their many different versions of the Indian reality, and these many versions, taken together, are beginning to add up to something that one might call the truth" (Rushdie, 2002, p. 375). That is what English language Indian writers have achieved: They "have found literary voices that are as distinctively Indian, and as suitable for any and all the purposes of art, as those of other English-language writers in Ireland, Africa, the West Indies, and the United States" (Rushdie, 2003, p. 250). The works of post-colonial translation embody the challenge of transcending the imperial and asymmetrical relationships sustained by language. Perhaps students in the classroom unconsciously inherit and accept the power that English possesses. Realizing how English has established and reinforced boundaries among races, nations, and cultures helps educators reduce such barriers. Hermeneutic conceptions of translation suggest that transforming the use of language, as well as the world defined by language, is possible, and students may see a space beyond frames, a space in which they are both self and other. In this chapter, I have examined the conceptions of translation first through a hermeneutic approach, and second, a socio-cultural approach. The rethinking of language and its role in the classroom through conceptions of translation can fuse differences among students, creating hybrid individuals whose knowledge is enriched by diverse perspectives derived from linguistic and cultural differences. The following chapter will apply hermeneutic conceptions of translation to translation work in Asia, particularly in Japan, and analyze how the conceptions and ideas of translation already discussed are observed in translated texts, and how the work of translation has performed pertaining to the construction of self and other. This chapter will form the 78 groundwork for an analysis of textbooks and literature which can further the goals of cultural hybridity in post-secondary classrooms. 79 Chapter Three Translation in Japan The change of language changes us. Al l languages permit slightly varying forms of thoughts, imagination, and play. (Rushdie, 2002, p. 374) The dream: to know a foreign (alien) language and yet not to understand it. (Barthes, 1982, p. 6) III.1. Living in Translation I have learned about the world through translation. Numerous foreign books translated into Japanese—from my childhood favourites, such as Winnie the Pooh, Curious George, or Anne of Green Gables to writers such as Shakespeare, Dostoevsky, Thomas Hardy, and Henry James to name a few—have not only provided me with the pleasure of reading literature but have also enriched my world view and knowledge of history, geography, politics, and cultural diversity. The only language I could read competently was Japanese, so without translation I would not have had access to world literature nor to many thinkers and their ideas in philosophy, sociology, psychology, and so on. But I took this access for granted, being unaware of how dependent I was upon translation, and how crucial this access was to my education and life. Not until coming to Canada did I realize that translated texts had influenced me to construct a particular "reality" of the world and its peoples and to locate myself within this "reality." I always considered that as a Japanese I was off-centre and accepted the cultural inferiority which many Japanese feel to Westerners; however, in Japan I had neither clearly perceived myself as Other nor had I been concerned about how I was perceived by others as Other. Since crossing the Pacific Ocean, I have become conscious of my location as a Japanese woman in Canada where different peoples coexist in society. People in North America 80 generally do not know much about the Japanese beyond stereotypes found in superficial accounts of popular culture. I have encountered occasions when people expected me to be submissive, certain that this is the norm in Japanese society. Yet I did not realize the extent to which the literature and popular culture account of the West I had been exposed to had also told me only a part of the story. Other parts of the story were filled in when meeting students from China, Taiwan, or Korea. Listening to the stories that I have delineated in Chapter One, I was struck by the fact that history is not just about the past but about the present and future; history continues to frame relationships among those who share the same space and time. I felt deeply embarrassed then, realizing that I had never been taught nor fully reflected on a significant part of Japanese history, and that I had read very few works of literature of other Asian countries. Translated texts allowed me to believe that I knew about the world well, but these texts, deliberately chosen by publishers, educators, librarians, in fact gave me only limited access to the world as well as selected views presented as though they were universal. This process of selection had also eliminated Japanese textbooks that presented views of the world conflicting with those approved by the Ministry of Education.24 Translated texts play a significant role in the production of knowledge, enabling people to read literature and to encounter ideas and thoughts to which they do not have access otherwise. The limits lie in what kind of knowledge translation provides. Translated texts in English have typically created and reinforced particular images or stereotypes of people who dwell in non-English speaking worlds. In this chapter, I will explore the impact of the different conceptions of translation discussed in the previous chapter, using translations between Japanese and English as examples. These illustrate how the meaning of language shifts across 2 4 The education ministry in Japan reviews textbooks (Grade 1 to 12) before distribution, and only ones which are approved by the government can be used in schools. This censorship is controversial particularly 81 borders, and how translation between Japanese and English has contributed to the production of particular kinds of knowledge about self and other, and to the construction of unbalanced power relations and national identities. Reflecting upon Japanese-English examples may help educators recognize how volatile and fluid language can be, and how significant it is for them to help students realize the richness that the cultural and linguistic spaces they occupy can offer. III.2. Issues The whole issue of translation in Japan is characterized by ambivalence. Japan has always been dependent upon translation to obtain information and new ideas from overseas. Translation has thus had a strong impact on the development of Japanese culture and played a significant role not only in the field of literature but also in the modernization of Japanese society as a whole. But translation has put Japan in a conflicted position. On the one hand, a nationalistic and economically powerful Japan has tried to overpower other Asian countries whose very languages are the source of Japanese. On the other hand, Japan has accepted the hegemonic power of the West (particularly the United States) and aspired to First World status, reflected in its enthusiasm to translate "the West," its values and knowledge. Japan has nevertheless discouraged the translation of contemporary Japanese literature into English because this contemporary literature is considered to be a product of Western influences and thus insufficiently representative of a pure Japanese canon. Japanese literature and translation need also to be examined politically since together they have contributed to the representation in the West of Japan, Japanese culture, and Japanese women, while at the same time reinforcing a cultural hierarchy among the Japanese. These over publishing history textbooks about Japanese responsibility in the war. 82 ambivalences make it important to examine the history and politics of translation and literature in Japan. Yet translation studies are not an established field in Japan. The development of translation studies in the West, in particular, the recent movement of a post-colonial approach, thus provides a mechanism to analyze translation work in Japan. III.3. Developments: Seeking "pure language" People spoke "Japanese" long before a writing system was invented. Up until the late 1800s, Japanese speech and writing took very different forms, leading some scholars even to question the definition of Japanese as one closed system. One such scholar, Yanabu (2003), suggests that the two forms of Japanese—speech and writing—have different functions: writing functions as means of communicating with outsiders, speech with insiders. Adding to this complexity, the Western writing system has shaped the Japanese writing system. He points out, for instance, that until the late 1800s, writers did not have the concept of the sentence as a unit. Taking translated English sentences as a model, Japanese sentence structure, punctuation system, and grammar have been created to enable Japanese to express logical thoughts in writing. This has served further to separate writing from speech. He further argues that this two-tier system of language has shaped Japanese culture and thought systems. Writing is not a form of speech and has been shaped by confronting, rejecting, and guarding against speech. As a result, speech has become a language of insiders, while writing has obtained formal status, which is used to contact outsiders and is available for translation to exchange ideas and thoughts. The development of translation in Japan can be examined in four different periods of history (Kondo & Wakabayashi, 2001) and together it leads us to an intriguing inquiry: Is there an original Japanese? As history reveals, Japanese is a translation of other languages, and what we think of 83 as original is often the product of interrelationships among cultures. Initially, translation meant translating Chinese and Korean texts into Japanese. This is a crucial period for examining the Japanese language, because in the process of translating Chinese into Japanese, Japan imported a written language and developed a writing system. In other words, the Japanese language is the product of translation. The Japanese needed this translation in order to obtain information about foreign civilizations—the advanced Confucian culture—so as to advance its own. Chinese characters were imported into Japan in the fifth century through Japanese scholars who were educated in China; the Japanese adopted the Chinese writing system and later modified it and created their own writing system to be used alongside Chinese. By the ninth century, the Japanese had developed an annotation system which enabled them to read Chinese texts without translation, and many new words were integrated into the Japanese language along with their new concepts.25 Around the seventeenth century, Chinese literature was translated, and contributed to the development of popular Japanese fiction. Even after the written forms were established, the relationship between China and Japan remained important, each influencing the other language's development. Guo (2002) points out this relationship: In some areas the Japanese use Chinese characters in their archaic and/or Japanized senses, which are often misleading to Chinese audiences. In other areas, the Japanese have created, and are creating, many terms and expressions with Chinese characters, which are visually new but semantically, etymologically and lexically intelligible to the Chinese. This unique cultural reciprocity played its historical role when China was in the cultural predicament of linguistic disorientation at the turn of the 20 t h century, (p. 170) Translation has played roles in shaping and reshaping Japanese and Chinese, through which new meanings are produced. The second period of translation activity occurred when Portuguese and Dutch language The Japanese language is ideographic, its script borrowed from China. This type of script can be developed on its own apart from the spoken word, making it easier for the Japanese to read the Chinese 84 and texts reached Japan through Christian missionaries in the sixteenth and the early seventeenth centuries, requiring the Japanese to find an equivalent for various Christian words, such as God and heaven, and to translate missionary texts into Japanese. The Portuguese and the Dutch also brought Western knowledge and culture, which stimulated the Japanese to develop dictionaries and translation practices. Translation created language, which in turn produced meaning. By 1639, the military government felt Christianity was destabilizing its power and decided to close the country, isolating it, with the exception of a few trading partners, from the international community.26 This period of isolation ended when Commodore Matthew Perry arrived in 1853 and demanded that Japan open its doors to the United States. This incident led Japan to the third period of translation activity, as well as the turning point in its translation history. In 1867, military governance came to an end, and the emperor regained his power; the country's vigorous restoration and modernization27 began. Having fallen behind other civilizations, Japan needed to import as well as translate technology, politics, and the arts from overseas. With the push to modernize, "the Japanese appeared to have been assigned to the status of second-term, or silent, interlocutors whose interests, hereafter, were to be represented to themselves by another," and "the interaction has resembled the relationship between ventriloquist and dummy" (Harootunian, 1993, pp. 197-198). In this period, Japanese scholars had to translate new concepts and ideas developed in the West. Their efforts to script. 2 6 Japan was an empire from around 200 CE and emperors were regarded as divine until the end of World War II in 1946, though between 1186 and 1867 the military held the real political power. 2 7 Miyoshi (1991) argues that in Japan the term "modern" does not signify modernism or modernization, since "the universal application of a historical periodization based on one historical system would be senseless as well as ethnocentric" (p. 12). He observes that Japanese historians and cultural theorists take different stances, such as those who embrace Westernization, those who deplore it, or those who are anti-progress and anti-West. I use the term "modern" to refer to the period between 1867 and the 1970s, and "contemporary" to refer to the post-1970s. 85 translate concepts and ideas which could not be described by existing Japanese created new words. These newly coined words, the product of translation, became "Japanese" as they were used by the Japanese over the years; again, language produced and established meaning. This illustrates the complexity of the Japanese language. Written Japanese, in particular, was developed though translating Chinese, which in turn was used to translate Western culture. The language that the Japanese use today is in fact a translation of a translation. Biguenet and Schulte (1989) would call this "the reconstruction process": "Words have the potential of expanding the boundaries of their lexical meanings and the dynamics of semantic possibilities through their specific contextual placement" (p. xi). Translation is about unlimited construction and reconstruction. At the same time as this third period of translation was underway in Japan, "the Qing Dynasty turned its eyes from the West to Japan for advanced learning," (Guo, 2002, p. 170) as a result of China's defeat in the Sino-Japanese War (1894-95). Many Chinese went to Japan to be educated; the number grew to more than ten thousand by 1906. Guo suggests that this movement led China to translate "Japanese or Japanese translation of Euro-American works into Chinese" (p. 171). A large number of Japanese works were translated: Under "the title of A General Encyclopedia, [translators of Japanese] included books of and on religion, philosophy, literature, education, politics, law, geography, history, natural sciences, industry and commerce" and by the "Sun Yat-sen Revolution (1911), the majority of textbooks used in China's secondary and post-secondary schools were translated or re-translated from Japanese" (ibid). While Japan was busy translating Western ideas and concepts into Japanese, China was translating these translated ideas and concepts into Chinese: Chinese translators "were importing new Western ideas whose Chinese equivalents had been created or invented by the Japanese using Chinese characters" (ibid.). However, the two languages performed differently 86 in the different cultures. Guo further suggests that "many Chinese words created by the Japanese out of traditional Chinese contexts were endowed with foreign and alien meanings. Consider his example, ge min (revolution): ge (change) min (fate, destiny) as a word can be found in the Book of Changes. However, in that context, it means "changing the mandate of heaven," whereas revolution is defined as and popularly understood to be a successful attempt by a large group of people, often using violent methods, to change the political system of their country, (p. 173) The Japanese word "democracy" in Chinese ( S i ) means "masters of the people," the opposite of its English meaning. Such Japanese words nevertheless survived and matured, later becoming part of the Chinese language. Regardless of political circumstances, the endeavour of both Japan and China to translate had a similar intention—the desire to excel and advance. They both wanted not just knowledge for its own sake, but power. Gaining knowledge meant achieving power. Translation ushered modern ideas and values into Japan, enabling the Japanese to study political systems, law, medicine, science and technology, and literature in various foreign languages, in particular, English, French, Russian and German. Many literary works were translated by translators who were writers themselves, and their struggle to translate original texts as accurately as possible while maintaining their artistic forms led them to create new forms. By the 1920s, most of the major literary works in the West had been translated into Japanese. This third period ended during the Second World War, when the Japanese government banned foreign books as well as the use of English. The fourth period of translation activity began after the war and continues today. Under the American occupation, Japan sought to restore political and economic stability and power, and translation again became critical in order to obtain current knowledge of Western norms, values, culture, and technology, whatever was needed to further the Japanese desire to 87 emulate the West and to acquire First World status.28 In the 1950s, more American literary works than European were translated into Japanese, as the United States and the English language became symbols of power and prosperity. At the same time, the economic and social conditions in Japan became capitalist, "symptoms common in global hegemonic societies" (Miyoshi, 1991, p. 61). Even though the Japanese are dependent upon translated texts, a translation theory has not been fully developed. The main concern at this stage seems to be the linguistic aspects of translation—the differences between the Japanese language and Indo-European languages—and the difficulty of preserving the aesthetic value of a work to be translated. The politics of translation have not yet been fully explored. In a collection of essays published in the 1980s in Japan, for example, translators argued about whether or not literal, word-for-word, translation provides readers with more authentic original texts, even if it creates unidiomatic texts (Bungaku, 1982). The issues of how to translate culture have also become important. Though some translators advocate free translation, literal translation seems dominant. This might stem from the fact that the Japanese have become used to reading unidiomatic translated works as they learn English by word-for-word translation at school (Kondo & Wakabayashi, 2001). Critiques of translating Japanese literature into other languages rarely appear, and the number of Japanese literary works translated into English or other European languages is far fewer than works of American, British, or French literature translated into Japanese. The history of the translation of Japanese shows that the language we speak is already The American military government of occupation lasted from August 1945 to April 1952; the Japanese accepted American democracy as a result of their resentment of Japanese militarism. The new constitution in which the emperor became a symbol of the state was drafted by American officials and adopted by the Diet in 1946. As the Cold War intensified, Japan became clearly an ally of the United States who rebuilt and used Japan's former military bases as their own military bases, a practice which was endorsed by a security treaty in 1952. 88 a product of cultural exchange and learning about the Other. Language is attached to who we are and where we are from, yet our roots emerge not always from definite framed spaces, but often from generative spaces of cultural interchange. Recognizing this language fluidity can help students reconsider their roots and their cultural norms and values. III. 4. Creating Language at the Border The history of translation in Japan also suggests that the necessity of translation has made the Japanese and other people aware of the Other and of the borderlines between languages. But at the same time, it reveals that this borderline is not solid and stable; rather, it is ambiguous, contradictory, and destabilized by translation. Meanings are not fixed. Translation is an effort to counter the indeterminacy of meaning as it holds that some degree of correspondence is always possible. Language is alive and can write us differently. As we have seen, after 1867 translation became crucial, and many new words were created by using Chinese characters to interpret Western thoughts, transferring them into "Japanese." After World War II, instead of creating new words, many English words were transformed into another form of Japanese by using a syllabary called katakana. This process simply adjusts the pronunciation of English and transcribes it: For example, colourful becomes jiyy71/ (pronounced close to "karafuru"). The dictionary gives its definition as something like "many colours" or "lively," but once it is transferred to katakana, it loses such definition and becomes a word of ambiguity. A word steps outside of a vertical space of signifier and signified into a horizontal space of a chain of signification. jdyy/V, which "sounds like English," attracts people to use the word, while its meaning is incomplete, hovering around the word. This ambiguity is what people appreciate, keeping a word mysterious and attractive. 89 This phenomenon is what Yanabu (2001) calls the Cassette Effect, discussed in Chapter Two. Yanabu describes the ambivalent relationship between the colonizer's English and the colonized's Japanese; copying ideas, norms, or values of English into Japanese shows the desire to emulate the colonizer's culture, but not entirely. Using katakana to mark them as foreign, alien, implies that there is something to admire, yet something from which to keep a distance. In his MSR^fifflrt* (loosely translated as What is Translation?), Yanabu (2001) examines Japanese words originally translated from English and discusses how these words have been "performed." As noted earlier, translation has influenced the modern Japanese language, and one of the prominent influences is on pronouns. In speech, the Japanese omit the subject (including pronouns) as long as the subject is clear to the speaker and the listener; when they need to refer to a third person, they tend to use names or demonstrative pronouns and nouns (i.e. "that person," instead of "she"), whereas English has to have a subject. Barthes (1982) emphasizes this need, writing "how can we imagine a verb which is simultaneously without subject, without attribute, and yet transitive, such as for instance, an act of knowledge, without knowing subject and without known object?" (p.7). Pronouns are now used more commonly in writing Japanese. Traditionally, as a Confucian society, Japanese did not have the concept of the individual, though there was a word "person" or "people." The Chinese character person/people (A) , originally a pictograph meaning relatives and neighbours, suggests that two persons are supporting each other; later Confucius expanded the character's meaning to represent "humanity." Pronouns, in particular "I," "she," "he," were a difficult concept to grasp. As many works of literature were translated into Japanese, however, the necessity of pronouns increased which also affected writers of Japanese literature. Yanabu suggests that generally Japanese sentences tend not to address 90 individuals as they do in English; they prefer ambiguity, avoiding targeting particular individuals. Yanabu writes that when the word "he" was created, it was initially used for English "he" or "it" and created a box effect. As writers used "he," they began to explore its usage and meaning, which opened a new world to them. Barthes (2000) would call this the signifier of myth, presenting itself "in an ambiguous way" (p. 117). The word "he" calls for a writer to fill up an "impoverished" form creating a new framing: "One believes that the meaning is going to die, but it is a death with reprieve; the meaning loses its value, but keeps its life, from which the form of the myth will draw its nourishment" (p. 118). Analyzing Japanese literature written around the late 1800s to the early 1900s, Yanabu illustrates how "he" was utilized in different works and produced a different "he." Japanese "he" or "she" today has been used and understood as a third person singular due to English education. Japanese use "he" or "she" to indicate a third person, boy friend/girl friend, themselves, and its use will remain like this, Yanabu suspects. Because it was created by translation, the word remains unsettled. A word created by translation tends to become a noun in Japanese, and for a verb form, a Japanese auxiliary verb or a particular verb ("do" in English) are added to the nouns to transfer their meanings. Western ideology entered Japan through translation after the Meiji restoration period in the late 1800s. The concepts of equality of individuals, human rights, and liberty stem from that time. These concepts are, however, not completely equivalent to the English ones. "Right" (as in human right), for example, was translated into Japanese by using Chinese characters, meaning "weight" or "power." Living in a hierarchical society, the concept "power" was easier for the Japanese to understand than the individual-centred "right." As a result, the translated word "right" was used to reflect both "right" and "power," which confused people, as they are conflicting concepts. Yanabu suggests that people eventually disregarded the meaning of 91 "power," but the remaining meaning "right" does not exactly carry the same concept that the English "right" maintains. "Freedom" or "liberty" had to trace a similar path through translation. Even today these translated words have not yet established vertically signified meanings. When Japanese civilians were recently captured as hostages in Iraq, for instance, the government criticized them for being irresponsible citizens who ignored the government warning not to travel to Iraq and caused psychological and financial turmoil to the nation and its people. After they were released unharmed, the government requested them to reimburse partial costs of their rescue, since they, as reckless individuals, had burdened Japan and occasioned the outlay of much taxpayer money. The hostages, who were peace-keeping volunteers and journalists, defended their entry into Iraq, stating that they, as individuals, had the right to pursue what they believe is right, and the freedom to do so. This story triggered controversy internationally. European and North American journalists were puzzled by, and then critical of, the Japanese government's treatment of the hostages. They suggested that the hostages, as representatives of Japan, demonstrated Japanese people's willingness to help people in Iraq; they were national heroes. Nationalism is translated differently in these different cultures. The Japanese government expects Japanese nationals to share a common identity and unity; citizens should obey and pursue the same goals that the government has. European and North American nationalism suggests the nation must accept citizens' self-determination, freedom, and individual rights, within certain limits often constitutionally defined. For the Japanese government, "right" means "power" whereas for the hostages it means individual entitlement or respect for their initiative. No wonder miscommunication happens among speakers or writers of different languages. But translation reminds us of challenges and possibilities. Because of translation's uncertainty, if we are aware of it, we can explore the 92 depth and breadth of language and its meaning, before making judgments about what is said or written. Translated language continues to perform differently among people. But their attempts and struggles to interpret concepts and transfer meaning in different languages generate possibility in language, helping people to explore different ideas and values. The task of the translator is to narrow the gaps between languages. Yet, when it is translated, language performs on its own, continuously shifting and searching for where to dwell. As Derrida argues, meaning is always differential and deferred. When a new word is created, it is, as a symbol, arbitrary. Readers then interpret it, construct/reconstruct its meaning— the translator "dies" at this point. Often, initially new words remain alien and foreign, triggering sometimes contradictory ideas. This contradiction deconstructs the frame, however, and creates the condition of maintaining a shared space. Language begins to and continues to write us, as deconstructionists would argue. Yanabu's observation of translated Japanese language can be seen as akin to Steiner's final stage of hermeneutic motion or restitution, as it suggests that distance and contiguity merge into equilibrium. Translating a foreign language into Japanese illustrates how the meaning of language shifts, expands, or sometimes is redefined while crossing borders, and how translation contributes to modifying or even transforming norms and values. The classroom consists of multiple frames in which students "translate" language in various ways. If both educators and students spend more time exploring this performative nature of language, they might achieve better understanding of self and other. 93 III. 5. Empire of Signs: Translation in Metonymic Centre-less Space Translated language in Japan has performed a significant role in constructing Japanese thoughts and minds, and culture, as discussed above. Because of its instability, however, translated language never settles at the centre. Rather, as Yanabu's box effect has shown, it dwells in the periphery—the border world, shifting and expanding. Since the Japanese language, especially the written one, is a translation, the framework of Japanese seems centre-less. The language that has written Japan and the Japanese is on the periphery. In his book, $%£>M& (loosely translated as The Thought of Myth), Yanabu (2002) further examines this location of translated language in his discussion of the word "emperor." He argues that even though the Emperor has been considered to symbolize29 Japanese society with his place at the centre of Japanese culture, the Japanese word "emperor" is in fact a production of translation and is thus located within a cultural boundary. According to Yanabu, the word "emperor" originally came from China where it was used in astrology as the name of a star. After being brought to Japan, this new word lost its original meaning and created a new concept—an emperor. Yanabu assumes that the uncertainty and novelty of a new word captivated the Japanese mind. Because its meaning was unknown, it looked mysteriously significant and valuable. It consists of two Chinese characters (^H) , one meaning "sky," and "nature," and "god," and the other meaning "great king"; so it was suitable to represent an emperor. Later the Emperor became "the Emperor of the Empire of Great Japan," translated from "the Empire of Great Britain." In Japan, however, the word did not indicate any geographical distinction but represented authority and power, the desire to achieve the same power that the Empire of Great Britain had attained. There is more evidence of translation complexity in relation to the Emperor. The 94 Three Sacred Treasures of the Imperial House that Japanese emperors have inherited are also believed to have been brought from China or Korea. The Emperor's formal attire came initially from China and later from Europe, and continues to show the influence of European cultures, such as French, German, and English. I remember a photograph of the previous Emperor and Empress dressed like the European Imperial Family in the guest room of my grandparents' house, a common feature even ten years after World War II. The Emperor was once the ruler of Japan and was considered a god, the ultimate being of the nation, and yet his role was the construction of translation and located in the intersection of cultures and languages. But nobody seemed to be bothered by such a contradiction. For my grandparents' generation, the Emperor was the nation and a god; people fought for the sake of the Emperor. The Emperor dwells in an ambivalent space. The centre is impossible to identify without locating the margin. But if the Emperor dwells on the periphery, where is the centre? One thing that we learn from the construction of the term Emperor is that what we think is the centre or mainstream may be an illusion, constructed by language in order to identify the border. Just because language occupies the centre, it does not mean the centre exists. If we shift language, we may illuminate the centre-less circle in the classroom. Such absent-centred space is discussed by Japanese psychologist, Kawai Hayao (2003), who examines Japanese mythology and discusses the Japanese mind in # J ^ J # ^ y l ^ ' & (loosely translated as Mythology and the Japanese Mind). He analyzes two creation myths— (Kojiki) (712) and B#0& (Nihonshoki) (720)30—and observes that these The Constitution of Japan defines the Emperor not as a ruler but as the symbol of the nation. 3 0 Kojiki is translated as the "Record of Ancient Matters" which "relates mythological stories and historical events of ancient Japan"; Nihonshoki is translated as the "Chronicles of Japan" including myth, legend, and archives, "a long series of official compilations of the ancient chronicles of Japan." Both are considered "the most valuable sources of information on the ancient history, religion and culture of Japan" (Yamaguchi & Kojima, 1979, pp. 291-293). 95 myths played roles in creating a nation with the Emperor as its centre in relation to China or Korea. Interestingly, however, the opening of Nihonshoki indicates that it is a translation from Chinese texts. Rather than identifying a Creator of the world, Japanese myths teach that the world evolved from chaos or shapeless conditions naturally giving birth to many gods in the process. Kawai suggests that the most significant characteristic derived from Japanese mythology is the idea of balancing power among the gods. In iff^fB (Kojiki), Kawai observes, three triads—each consisting of three gods—appear. He regards these triads as empty-centred, because there is no mention of a god, except a name, that seems to be located at the centre. Kawai observes that the number three is crucial: "one" suggests totality; "two" suggests binary opposition, separation, contradiction; but three connotes a stable and balanced state. This triad, based on polytheism, is different from the Trinity. Kawai argues that the fundamental elements of Japanese mythology are what he calls ^"StWMWM (the empty-centred balanced structure). No god has ultimate authority, or represents exclusively good or evil. Gods confront, contradict, yet eventually restore equilibrium. This equilibrium empties the centre. Kawai further contends that the empty-centred balanced structure embraces newcomers, because even if such acceptance causes confrontation and contradiction, it eventually maintains balance, coexisting within contradiction. Unlike Yanabu who perceives the Emperor on the periphery, however, Kawai perceives that the Emperor dwells in the centre-less centre, as a symbol. Translating Japan as an empty-centred space and the Emperor in a centre-less centre has been noted elsewhere. In his analysis of Japan, Empire of Signs, Barthes (1982) perceives Japan as empty of meaning: "Text and image, interlacing, seek to ensure the circulation and exchange of these signifiers: body, face, writing; and in them to read the retreat of signs" (p. xi). Barthes observes and locates Japanese culture not at the border but outside of the system 96 of Western culture. His experience of translating Japan is free from Western metaphysics' pursuit of meaning. Japan demonstrates a space of deconstruction in which language disturbs and shifts its meaning; signifier never reaches signified—a metonymic space. Graham Allen (2003) suggests that for Barthes, Japan "provides limitless opportunities for a release from meaning, for a pleasurable floating among empty languages, empty signs" (p. 71). Allen writes that one example of such empty signs is haiku: The "West moistens everything with meaning, like an authoritarian religion which imposes baptism on entire peoples," but haiku, Japanese poetry, is "to suspend language, not to provoke it" (pp. 70-72). Because a haiku consists of only seventeen syllables in three lines (five, seven, five syllables respectively), the reader has to read empty spaces between the lines. Just as Japanese flower arrangements value empty spaces between flowers, haiku requires a reader to float between signs. Barthes suggests that haiku illustrates ambiguity, articulated by Derrida's deconstruction of "no thing to be presented behind language." Barthes perceives Tokyo as the centre-less space: "every center is the site of truth, the center of our cities is always full. . . . : To go downtown or to the center-city is to encounter the social 'truth,' to participate in the proud plenitude of'reality'" (Barthes, 1982, p. 30). But Tokyo offers paradox: "it does possess a center, but this center is empty" (ibid.). He finds this emptiness at the Emperor's residence: The entire city turns around a site both forbidden and indifferent, a residence concealed beneath foliage, protected by moats, inhabited by an emperor who is never seen, which is to say, literally, by no one knows who. Daily, in their rapid, energetic, bullet-like trajectories, the taxis avoid this circle, whose low crest, the visible form of invisibility, hides the sacred "notion." (ibid., pp. 30-32) He concludes that "the system of the imaginary is spread circularly, by detours and returns the length of an empty subject," which is what the Japanese language is. Allen (2003) argues that Barthes "reads Japan as a text which remains, ultimately, unreadable, beyond the recuperation 97 (discovery) of the kind of stable and finite meaning for which reading traditionally seeks" (pp. 73-74). Considering the works of Yanabu, Kawai, and Barthes, one might suggest that the story of the Tower of Babel is also about the empty-centred world. The Lord scattered different languages over the face of the earth, expecting clash, conflict, and hostilities. Difference separates people, creates struggle, but it also helps them learn how to coexist. Perhaps translation mediates such a process. Although the biblical story and Japanese mythology are derived from different beliefs, their difference may lie either in perceiving an invisible god at the centre or perceiving god as an empty symbol. Kawai concludes that combining the empty-centred balanced structure and the unified-centre structure may be a solution to our future. He points out that people tend to show indecisiveness when they face a crisis that requires an individual decision in the empty-centred balanced structure. Depending upon others, they may behave irresponsibly. But he also suggests that the unified-centre structure has revealed its problems in history. The works of Yanabu, Kawai, and Barthes provide us with possibilities of how to recreate the classroom. Many cultures disagree, confront, or contradict. Translating each other can eventually take us to the centre-less, balanced space. There is no definite answer. The process we seek to find meaning helps us create balance. When reading texts in the classroom, both teachers and students may assume there is a definite meaning, and to reach that meaning is to understand the text. Barthes' analysis of Japan tells otherwise. There is no ultimate meaning to seek; the reader thus re-creates the text, becoming a writer of translation. Barthes' reading of Japan also links to the idea that translation is Metonymy, a space of doubling, not a simple oppositional binary space. In the classroom, there are many translators who are in a space of doubling. Both students and teachers share their translations and explore differences. 98 They have to know that they can never reach definite centre, because there is not one to reach. I have illustrated how hermeneutic conceptions of translation help us understand how the Japanese language and culture have been shaped through translating ideas and thoughts, and how translation has played its part in shaping national identities. In the following sections, I will focus on literature translated both from and into Japanese and discuss translation through sociocultural and political approaches. III.6. Ambivalent Post-colonial Japan The cultural productions of Japan in the twentieth century have been "inextricably enmeshed with the developments of Western colonialism and non-Western nativism" (Miyoshi, 1991, p. 41). Japan has experienced two major restoration periods—at the end of the 19th century and again after the Second World War—both times reconstructing its political and economic status in the world by relying on foreign power and control, particularly by the United States. Unlike India or other countries where the colonial language functions as a national language, Japan has never lost the Japanese language nor been completely dominated by a colonial power; however, the Japanese social and cultural values have been formed under the political and economic influence of the United States, since the United States occupied Japan after the war and provided financial support to restore the country while establishing military bases and directing the Japanese government to draft a constitution. Consequently, the Japanese often feel that they are second-rate citizens and think that they should try hard to emulate the West. At the same time, there has always been resentment and resistance to being westernized and to losing their own "cultural values." The Japanese identity is complex and ambivalent. Despite Japan's sense of marginality, the translation of Japanese literature has not 99 been folly examined from a post-colonial perspective, perhaps because post-colonial studies are "based in the 'historical fact' of European colonialism, and the diverse material effects to which this phenomenon gave rise" (Ashcroft, Griffiths, & Tiffin, 1995, p. 2). Since the term "post-colonial" has been used to discuss various cultural, economic, and political issues, "the tendency to employ the term 'post-colonial' to refer to any kind of marginality at all runs the risk of denying its basis in the historical process of colonialism" (ibid). Certainly Japan has never been officially colonized; rather, Japan was a colonizer. Nationalism, bringing the desire to gain power over neighbouring countries, transformed Japan from a Third World country to a first-world-like country; Japanese imperialism eventually resulted in the invasion and subjugation of other East Asian countries. Despite this history, the post-colonial approach nevertheless helps us examine Japanese attitudes towards translation, and norms and values shaped through translation, because certain Japanese literary works which were chosen to be translated into English or other languages, together with books written by Westerners about Japan and its people, have influenced the West's construction of their view of Japan and the Japanese. Said's notion of Orientalism applies to Japan. The Japanese experience of representation and oppression might therefore well render it a candidate for post-colonial studies.31 The problem is that many Japanese have failed to reflect upon their ambivalent state and have engaged enthusiastically in the pursuit of westernization. The work of Sakai Naoki (1999) provides an opening perspective. In Translation and Subjectivity, he suggests that 3 1 Applying the concept "post-colonial" to non-colonized nations can be found in other scholars' works. For example, Sherry Simon (1999) examines the situation of Quebec as post-colonial. She writes that as a "French-speaking political community, implicated in the cultural dynamics of North America and receiving immigrants from across the globe, Quebec can be said to participate fully in the contradictions and tensions of contemporary post-coloniality" (p. 59). Yangsheng Guo (2002) suggests China has undergone the process of translating the West to re-define China, an experience that thus reflects colonial and post-colonial contexts—the impasse between Sinocentrism and Eurocentrism. 1 0 0 Japanese literature "has not been placed in the configurative mimetic relationship with another national literature that is not the literature of the imperialist nation-state" (p. 22). And thus "the identity of Japanese literature as a national literature has never been figured out in relation to the peoples who were colonized or subordinated by those imperialist nations" (p. 22). This may suggest that historically Japan wants to identify itself as a colonizer, emphasizing its power comparable to the West. China and Japan seem to have followed similar paths. Rey Chow (1993), professor of literature in the United States, argues that territorially independent countries such as China and Japan illustrate how imperialism works; "imperialism as ideological domination succeeds best without physical coercion, without actually capturing the body and the land" (p. 8). China, she suggests, "perhaps because it is an exception to the rule of imperialist domination by race, land, and language involving a foreign power, in fact highlights the effects of the imperialistic transformation of value and value-production more sharply than in other 'third world' cultures" (p. 9, emphasis original). The ability to preserve territorial and linguistic integrity in China means that "as a 'third world' country, the Chinese relation to the imperialist West, until Communists officially propagandized 'anti-imperialism,' is seldom purely 'oppositional' ideologically; on the contrary, the point has always been for China to become as strong as the West, to become the West's 'equal" (p. 8). This goal to reach First World status appears similar to that of Japan; but, perhaps because of being a capitalist society, Japan does not seem entirely able to resist imperialism or to rise up against imperialism. 101 III.7. Translating Japanese Literature: Construction of Nation and Race Examining Japanese literature in translation and English books portraying Japan helps us recognize how literature has contributed to the Western construction of Japan and the Japanese. Although translated European and Western literature has provided the Japanese with knowledge of and ideas about Western culture since the seventeenth century, translations of Japanese literature32 were not available in the West until the 1960s and the 1970s.33 The selection of books, which is controlled by the publishers (mostly American), has also been limited to a few writers, namely Tanizaki Junichiro, Kawabata Yasunari, and Mishima Yukio, 3 4 and these writers "established a canon of Japanese fiction in English that was . . . based on a well-defined stereotype that has determined reader expectations for roughly forty years" (Venuti, 1998, p. 72).3 5 As the English translation of texts was translated into other European languages, so, too, were the stereotypes. All of these writers have had a particularly strong impact on the production of the popular image of Japan in the West. Harootunian (1993) suggests that Mishima, for example, "produced an ideology of cultural totalism to serve the political and economic systems" (p. 217). Mishima wanted to reclaim totality "secured by imperial sovereignty and closely resembling the ideological representations of emperor and community that were being made Miyoshi (1991) questions the definition of Japanese literature, since literature "as a discipline is a historical product of European colonialism and nationalism" (p. 17). Modern Japanese literature was formed during the modernization period in the late-1800s, and a Department of National Literature was established at a national university only in the mid-1880s. He argues that "it is not just intraliterary categories, or genres, that need to be reimagined, but also the whole idea of literature itself, which is taken for granted only at great risk" (p. 18). 3 3 In 1974, for example, a collection of novellas, Accomplices of Silence, by Masao Miyoshi, was published in which his introduction discussed the modern Japanese novel. He writes that Japanese literature was unknown to the outside world, except for some classic translation and haiku in the 1950s. 3 4 Japanese writers' names are written in Japanese order, family name first, except Japanese-Americans or Japanese-Europeans. 3 5 In the hierarchy of languages translated into English, Japanese ranks sixth after French, German, Russian, Spanish, and Italian (Venuti, 1995, p. 502). 102 during the 1930s" (p. 217). What made Mishima known to the West was his suicide, "seppuku," cutting open his abdomen with a Japanese sword. Mishima is also very well known in England, Kazuo Ishiguro (1993) suggests, because his image, the way he died, fits the Western readers' stereotype of Japan, and this view has helped these readers "remain locked in certain prejudices and very superficial, stereotypical images of what Japanese people are like" (p. 167). Kawabata, who also committed suicide, provided the West with another traditional Japanese image as he identified himself "as belonging essentially to the tradition of Zen philosophy and aesthetic sensibility pervading the classical literature of the Orient, but he went out of his way to differentiate emptiness as an attribute of his works from the nihilism of the West" (Oe, 1994, p. 113). They seem to be remembered not by their works but their lives, representing Japan and the Japanese. This is an example of how translation can create frames, define vertical signification, and construct facade. Few seek to examine what is happening behind this facade. In discussing Fowler's (1992) analysis of Japanese literature, Venuti (1998) writes, "not only did the translated fiction often refer to traditional Japanese culture, but some novels lamented the disruptive social changes wrought by military conflict and Western influence; Japan was represented as 'an exoticized, aestheticized, and quintessentially foreign land quite antithetical to its prewar image of a bellicose and imminently threatening power'" (p. 72). Moreover, these books were translated by American university professors and read mostly by academics and intellectuals. One such American academic and translator, Donald Keene (1982), addresses his concerns regarding translating Japanese literature into English. He writes that since translators take the initiative to determine which texts will be translated, the texts have to be found and recommended to publishers. If books are written in European languages, publishers usually have somebody who can read the original work, which is not often the case 1 0 3 with Japanese texts. Consequently, most of the time, only texts which either translators love or scholars in Japanese literature recommend are likely to be translated, but these works might not be of interest to non-academic readers or benefit the publishers financially. And publishers tend to publish a book only when they think it is marketable. For example, publishers became interested in publishing Kawabata's work only after he received the Nobel Prize. Recently, the situation has been changing. Because of Japan's economic growth, people overseas have become interested in learning about Japan and the Japanese language. Japanese has been extensively taught and studied as a foreign language throughout the world and particularly in the United States since the 1980s; however, "most of the world continues to rely upon translation for its knowledge of Japan and of Japanese literary art and culture" (Miller, 1986, p. 177). The current state of the translator's art in Japan leaves much to be desired. An American critic, Roy Andrew Miller (1986) argues that if "the Japanese language itself today appears to call out for defence against much of what is said and written about it, then surely so also does the reader of translations—who if anything is even more vulnerable, and thus even more in need of defence, in this matter of translations from the Japanese" (p. 177). Translators' inadequate understanding of the Japanese language or their distorted view of Japan may further misrepresent stories beyond what is inevitable in translation. Miller (1986) takes an example from Enchi Fumiko's novella, Onnamen (originally published in 1958). Enchi is one of the most important modern female writers (Miyoshi, 1991, p. 206), and there are very few English (or other language) translations of modern Japanese female writers' works. 3 6 Miller compares and contrasts the original Japanese text with the text Masks translated by Juliet Winters Carpenter (1983), and addresses a review by John Updike who relies upon the translated text, to illustrate how the translator "has departed from the 104 original" (Miller, 1986, p. 180). One of the passages that Miller discusses demonstrates how a translator might indulge herself in "orientalism" (p. 183): In the course of a description of early plum blossoms flowering in the precincts of a Shinto shrine, the [Carpenter's] translation has one of the characters remark, "It's very Japanese, yet there's something of China in this scenery, too." . . . . The original, as it turns out, says nothing of the sort. . . . The spectacle of a Japanese in a Japanese novel saying of something that it is "very Japanese" naturally attracted Updike's notice, (ibid.) Miller's translation of the same passage is " . . . of course this sort of scene is 'Japanese,' but actually, China is much involved with it as well" (ibid.). Miller (1986) argues that Carpenter's "violation" (p. 184) is most dangerous and most likely to "interfere with the communicative role of translations as bridges between one literary culture and another" (p. 184). Translators, he concludes, "must be willing to confront the English-language reader with translations that do not necessarily conform to preconceived notions of what a text must sound like and say" (p. 220). This example may illustrate their difficulty reaching the final stage of Steiner's hermeneutic motion. Even when the translators overcome the second "aggression" movement, the third movement—"incorporation"—challenges them: "We encircle and invade cognitively. We come home laden, thus again off-balance, having caused disequilibrium throughout the system by taking away from 'the other' and by adding, though possibly with ambiguous consequence, to our own" (Steiner, 1998, pp. 316). Language tends to operate within our preexisting signification. When we find familiar meaning in language, we tend not to question it. Books about Japan written in English have also reinforced Westerners' perspectives of Japan as Other. They are more likely to be translated into other languages because publishers and translators can easily read the English original. Once these books become See Miyoshi's (1991) analysis of Enchi's work. 105 well-received, they are in turn translated into Japanese. Even if they promote stereotypes, the Japanese seem to accept what they deliver; there has not been strong objection to such translations. These texts often contribute to making the Japanese define their cultural identity as Westerners construct it. Even if a text is a scholarly work, what is written is from the western writer's perspective. The challenge for educators is to educate students and themselves to read critically. Pfeiffer (1996) points out this misrepresentation in a cultural theory using the classic work of cultural anthropology, The Chrysanthemum and the Sword: Patterns of Japanese Culture (originally published in 1946), by Ruth Benedict. It defines Japanese culture as a "shame" culture, relying on external sanctions for good behavior, as opposed to a "guilt" culture, relying on an internalized conviction of sin represented by the West. This book was translated into Japanese and became a best-seller in Japan. The Japanese people seemed simply to accept her observation and were persuaded to theorize Japanese culture as a shame culture. Pfeiffer argues that Benedict's analysis was "overdrawn," portraying the Japanese as "too bound to duty and social position, too concerned with their reputation" (Pfeiffer, 1996, p. 190). He points out the fact that Benedict was assigned to study the Japanese under pressure from the military who wanted to know about "the 'morale' of the Japanese" (p. 191) in order to have better control at the later stages of World War II. The result is that "images of cultures and of their degeneration into stereotypes . . . take precedence" (p. 192). An American journalist, Patrick Smith (1997), also questions Benedict's theory and suggests that once we "recognize the conflict beneath the surface, we understand that group identity had more to do with coercion and power than with tradition and culture. . . .[tjhere is nothing especially 'Japanese' about what we call the Japanese character or personality" (p. 56). Miyoshi (1991) also writes that there are fundamental faults in Benedict's assumptions, and that she "has been 106 all along gazing at no one but herself (p. 87). Yet for many Japanese, Benedict's version of Japanese culture and identity is the one they embrace as authentic and authoritative. This tendency to create stereotypes and the Japanese tendency to accept them has continued without much resistance. For example, the recent bestseller Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden (1997) captured the attention of the media in exploring this "mysterious" Japanese woman's occupation, geisha. This book, "a stunningly popular novel that stayed on the New York Times bestseller list for 58 weeks," (Struck, 2000, p. C6) sold four million copies in English and has been translated into 32 languages. T V programs too have been produced. Doug Struck of the Washington Post reported that this book unfolds "true" stories of geisha and informed the West that the geisha, known as "beauty and elegance," live in the "flower and willow world" in Kyoto and serve wealthy men as "prostitutes" (ibid.). Yet the woman who is considered to be the model for this book now criticizes the author for creating a false image of geisha. Golden responds that the book is fiction (Struck, 2000). Whether or not Golden's book tells a true story is not the issue. What matters here is that the novel reinforces the stereotype that the geisha is a representation of the traditional Japanese woman. He has simply written a nostalgic memoir which reflects what Westerners expect Japan and Japanese women to be like. As it portrays Japan as the Other, the book has reasserted the stereotypical view of Japanese women as obedient and submissive. But again, the Japanese do not seem to contest this type of representation. The book has been translated into Japanese but arouses a different response from that received in the West. What matters to the Japanese seems not to be the issue of representation of women, but the issue of translation itself—the translation has changed the book. Writer and editor, Jennifer Hanawald (2000), reports that the Japanese used in translating Memoirs of a Geisha was too genuine to be an English-translation, including "a manner of expression that was unique to geisha society in 107 Kyoto and for which there is no English equivalent" (p. 1). Hanawald suggests that this observation indicates a successful translation: On the one hand [the Japanese] say, it uses specialized language that the original author could never have known, yet it still takes the time to explain things about the culture that are obvious to Japanese readers . . . . the charm that you feel when you read the book in English, which evokes a feeling of the exotic, is lost in the Japanese version, in which it seems as if Golden is hiding the fact that he is a foreigner, (ibid.) Perhaps Golden is not hiding but disappeared (or died a Foucaultian death) when the book was translated. Is the translated book successful because the language of the translated text is genuine? Or did the Japanese translator fail to translate the original language in his "domestication" of English to Japanese? Yet, the original context Golden wrote about is in fact Japan; did the Japanese translator domesticate English in portraying Japan to the Japanese? If the language had not been domesticated, might the translation have been criticized as "inauthentic"? How does the translated Japanese version serve Japanese readers, since it seems not to capture the sense of exoticism so central to the original text? When does the translation so differ from the translated text that it constitutes a different work? There are more questions than answers. One thing is clear: translated texts dealing with a particular culture create challenges, not just for translators, but for readers, including teachers and students. This also provides opportunities for readers to learn about the representation and construction of difference as revealed through the translation process. This example reminds us of how to read texts about particular cultures. Instead of receiving what the text conveys uncritically, we should explore the perceptions of a particular culture as they are delivered through the text. If these views settle easily and make sense to us, we should doubt such comfort. Stereotypes are comforting. The essentialist perspective, a space of vertical signification, defines the terms Japan and Japanese, confines them within a frame, and does not move beyond these definitions. We must read texts so as to deconstruct 108 such essentialist readings. Criticizing essentialist or post-modern theories of identity, in Reclaiming Identity, Moya (2000) argues that "a theory of identity is inadequate unless it allows a social theorist to analyze the epistemic status and political salience of any given identity and provides her with the resources to ascertain and evaluate the possibilities and limits of different identities" (p. 7). She suggests that essentialist conceptions are "unable to explain the internal heterogeneity of groups, the multiple and sometimes contradictory constitution of individuals, and the possibility of change—both cultural and at the level of individual personal identity" (p. 10). She argues for realist accounts of identity, believing that "subjectivity or particularity is not antithetical to objective knowledge but is constitutive of it" (p. 17). In the classroom, students are "heterogeneity groups," and their identities shift through interacting with others. The classroom is thus an ideal space for sharing different perspectives and experiences. Social and cultural identities are constructed and are being constructed through interacting, interpreting, translating others. They need to learn how language governs thought and influences our perception of Other. 109 III.8. Translating the Identity of the East Translation provided by the West reflects what the West wants to see in the Other, and creates for the Other a cultural identity. In her Writing Diaspora, Rey Chow (1993) begins her introduction by questioning the sinologist Stephen Owen's criticism of the English translation of Chinese poetry (and new Japanese poetry) which Owen regards as not worth being translated because it is too westernized. Chow argues that Owen's criticism is based on a sense of loss which creates "anxiety over his own intellectual position" (p. 3); "the Orientalist blames the living 'third world' natives for the loss of the ancient non-Western civilization, his loved object" (p. 12). The Japanese professor of literature, Karatani (1998), calls this "the aesthetic stance," arguing that Western academics do not want to consider Japan as a westernized country which can offer intellectual and ethical criticism; rather, they want to think that Japan should only offer something aesthetic such as Ukiyo-e and Zen. He discusses an exchange between two Nobel-prize winning novelists—Oe Kenzaburo of Japan and Claude Simon of France—to illustrate his point. Simon criticizes Japan for its invasion of Asia, even though as Karatani tells us, his native France has its own past as colonizer. Karatani observes that Simon reproached Japan but at the same time did not neglect to say that he was moved by Japanese calligraphy. This attitude is not necessarily traditional "but rather is rooted in modern science and aesthetics, which together produce the ambivalent worship" (Karatani, 1998, p. 147). Social science, based on modern natural science, looks down on the Other as a mere object of analysis, and an aesthetic stance worships the Other ambivalently, deeming it beautiful but "intellectually and ethically inferior" (p. 147): Colonialism and imperialism are accused of being sadistic forms of invasion and domination. But the most typical subversion of colonialism is its aestheticentrist way of appreciating and respecting the other. . . . Orientalism could never be characterized 110 as an attitude that neglects the other but as that which exists within the aesthetic exceptionalization of the other. . . . Aestheticentrism refuses to acknowledge that the other who does not offer any stimulative surprise of a "stranger" lives a life "out there." (p. 153) Nostalgia and aestheticism, with their emphasis on the exotic and traditional, stifle the emergence of a contemporary literature which embraces current social and political realities and instead reinforces the marginalisation of the "Oriental" Japan. In The Scandals of Translation, Venuti (1998) argues that identity formation is grounded in "domestic ideologies and institutions," and "engaged in an ethnocentric reduction of possibilities, excluding not only other possible representations of foreign cultures, but also other possible constructions of domestic subjects" (p. 82). The English- language canon of Japanese fiction, he suggests, is a good example, since it has been maintained by "a network of translators and institutions" (p. 82). What these translators and institutions contribute seems crucial to the formation of cultural identities. New York based translator and writer, Sabu Kosho (1998), points out similarly that in "the domain of Japanese modern thought, those writers who played the crucial role in criticizing the social formation have not necessarily attracted a Western readership... .Those writers whose works represent the fantastic Japan cast in the Westerners' mind—aesthetic Japan as opposed to critical Japan—are persistently sought out" (p. 102). In her discussion about the teaching of Asian literature in American universities, Chow (1993) argues that Asian literatures such as those of China, Japan, and India have been marginalized, as "the elitism which stresses the importance of non-Western cultures by way of a hierarchical evaluation of their 'excellence' or 'superiority' actually collaborates with the minimalization of those non-Western cultures" (p. 125). The Asian classical literatures are highly respected, whereas modern and contemporary literatures are considered inferior because 111 they are too Westernized or "tainted by hybridization" (p. 126) and thus lack quality: The alliance of nativist elitism and institutional Orientalism produces hegemonic paradigms of thinking and method that have as powerful an impact in determining the objects worthy of study as military, economic, and religious aggressivity did in producing accounts of "Asia" in the past. (p. 126) She argues that this politics allows "culture" in classics to be preserved but "disables the pursuit of literature as an ongoing historical discourse" (p. 126). She urges teachers of Asian literatures to realize that literature provides students with the "necessary information and tools of analysis for the propagation of cultural and even military domination" (p. 138). Chow's discussion also illustrates how Japanese literature is taught in Western universities. The academics tend to divide Japanese literature into two periods, one between the 1890s and the 1970s in which writers experienced both the modernization of Japan and the First and Second World Wars, and the other after the 1970s in which writers are of the post-war generation. The former literature, called "junbungaku," or pure-literature, is valued more by the academics and literary critics than the latter—contemporary literature. Among the literary texts which the academics value, only the works of a few carefully selected writers have been translated, read, and established in the English-language canon of Japanese fiction (Venuti, 1998). As a reason for this, Venuti (1998) suggests that "the institutional programs developed to improve cross-cultural exchange between the United States and Japan continued to be dominated by a professional group of university professors and corporate executives (the latter mostly publishers and booksellers)—men whose formative experiences have been shaped by World War II" (p. 73). Familiarity with Tanizaki, Kawabata, and Mishima "became the mark of a literary taste that was both discriminating and knowledgeable, backed by scholarly credentials" (p. 76). Not only the Western Japanese-specialists, but also Japanese academics and critics, consider Japanese literature in a similar way; "junbungaku" and only certain 112 contemporary Japanese literature, they assert, are worth reading. Yet some popular contemporary literary works which are not in the category of "junbungaku" and have been translated into English are commercially more successful and widely read. Concerning "junbungaku" and contemporary literature, polysystem theory offers some insights into the process of how Japanese literature has evolved. As discussed in Chapter Two, polysystem theory suggests that, unlike in Anglo-American or Western European cultures, in younger or smaller nations translation plays a significant role and maintains a primary position. Translation "fulfills the need of young literature to use its new language for as many different kinds of writing as possible" (Gentzler, 2001, pp. 116-117), and adopts new ideas. One can assume that even Japanese "junbungaku" was influenced by translation, as many pre-war Japanese writers studied abroad. Post-war writers can be included in another social circumstance that polysystem theory suggests: "established literary models no longer stimulate the new generation of writers, who turn elsewhere for ideas and forms" (ibid.), and they introduce new elements into a literary system through translated texts. Even-Zohar, who originated polysystem theory, suggests that when translated texts take a primary position, "the borders between translated texts and original texts 'diffuse' and definitions of translation become liberalized, expanding to include versions, imitations, and adaptations as well" (ibid., p. 118). For a place like Japan where translation has been crucial for the construction of knowledge, polysystem theory may offer an explanation for literature's cultural heterogeneity and instability, its constant differing and changing. Thus contemporary literature, inexorably influenced by translation, has departed from "junbungaku." In Japan, the Ambiguous, and Myself, Japan's leading contemporary novelist Oe Kenzaburo (1994) discusses modern (pre-1970) and contemporary (post-1970) Japanese literary writers, saying that both groups of writers are strongly influenced by European works; 113 they studied and translated these works into Japanese and used them to create a narrative for their new age. Modernization brought Japan an encounter with the West, provided confidence, and stimulated a desire for material gains. Then the Japanese undertook the invasion of China, went through World War II and suffered their eventual defeat and devastation. The whole country suffered; however, for the first time "freedom of expression was established and guaranteed, and, with it, previously suppressed literary energy burst forth," and "while people had the greatest difficulty satisfying their material needs, the moral issues they found addressed in the literature of the time were at their highest tide" (Oe, 1995, p. 47). In the 1960s, economic growth led the Japanese to pursue material desires, while many post-war writers who were concerned about neglected political and moral issues participated in the protest movement against the United States-Japan Security Treaty. The writers' experiences of the pre- and post-war eras are reflected in their works. Dependent upon and influenced by translation, Japanese literature brings a reader sociocultural perspectives about Japan. Like any world literature, Japanese literature cannot reflect a single definitive society or culture. The reality of translation in a world of multiplicity precludes such purity and exclusivity. The translated Japanese literature into English has constructed and continues to provide particular images of the Japanese race and nation as Other, reinforcing stereotypes. At the same time, the translation of English or other literatures into Japanese has reshaped and even transformed the world view of Japanese writers and readers, moving perhaps beyond the frame created by others. Even though it has been physically colonized and has even practiced imperialism as a colonizer, Japan was industrialized many decades after Western Europe and North America, and a post-colonial approach to translation helps to explain how, historically, international perspectives have been shaped. The writers who were born in post-war Japan, who were, like myself immersed in translated books, 114 may have perceived Japan and the world differently from those who experienced the war, may even have moved to an emerging space of hybridity. III.9. Contemporary Literature/not Literature In the 1970s, as literary readership declined in Japan, new trends emerged among writers who were born after the war. Academics such as Oe (1994) felt that Japanese literature had begun to decay, as translated works from Europe and the United States outnumbered Japanese literary works. Another leading Japanese writer, Ooka, was concerned about the political and cultural implications of "junbungaku's" disappearance, as a society of increased consumption replaced books with comics and the stage with T V and the whole entertainment industry (Miyoshi, 1991). Among contemporary young writers, Murakami Haruki and Yoshimoto Banana have written best-sellers and captured a young readership, and their works have been translated into English. Oe (1994) notes that their works are politically disaffected and reflect the youth culture of Japan and the West, while evoking "a response bordering on adulation in their young readers" (p. 50). Oe sees literature as a means to "create a model of a contemporary age which encompasses the past and future, a model of the people living in the age as well" (p. 66). For him, contemporary Japanese literature rarely meets these expectations. He cites a few writers, other than Yoshimoto or Murakami, who maintain "a sense of real power and efficacy of literature," although they experience "a cold winter of dwindling sales" (p. 52). Miyoshi (1991) suggests in his Off Center that the writers in the post-1970 era write mostly of the "boredom and sterility of managed society, which they carefully nurture so that they may plausibly postulate style and snobbery as a cure" (p. 233). He argues that Murakami writes what the "foreign buyers like to see" (p. 234) and questions the American readership 115 who are impressed with his work. Similarly, Miyoshi criticizes Yoshimoto's books as having "no style, no poise, no imagery" (p. 236). His concern is that the works of "the bearers of light into the 1990s and beyond," such as Oe whose work "deserves full-scale studies," (p. 238) have been marginalized by those of Murakami or Yoshimoto, writers whom he sees as un-Japanese, reflecting the westernized, Americanized Japan of which Miyoshi despairs. Venuti (1998) reads the works of Murakami and Yoshimoto differently, suggesting that they have projected "the image of highly Americanized Japanese culture at once youthful and energetic, [and therefore] it can implicitly answer to current American anxieties about Japan's competitive strength in the global economy, offering an explanation that is reassuringly familiar and not a little self-congratulatory: the image permits Japanese economic power to be seen as an effect of American cultural domination on a later, postwar generation" (p. 75). Furthermore, Venuti argues, "linguistic and cultural differences introduced by any translation can permit a foreign text that seems aesthetically inferior and politically reactionary at home to carry opposite valences abroad" (p. 87). He takes a passage from Yoshimoto's Kitchen and compares two versions, one from an American translator and one from Miyoshi: Steeped in a sadness so great I could barely cry, shuffling softly in gentle drowsiness, I pulled my futon into the deathly silent, gleaming kitchen. Wrapped in a blanket, like Linus, I slept. (Yoshimoto, trans. Backu, 1993, pp. 4-5) I placed the bedding in a quiet well-lit kitchen, drawing silently soft sleepiness that comes with saturated sadness not relieved by tears. I fell asleep wrapped in a blanket like Linus. (Yoshimoto, trans. Miyoshi 1991, p. 236) Venuti shows how these different translations of the same passage project different images. He argues that Miyoshi's translation brings with it no sense of Japaneseness and conveys nothing of Yoshimoto's style as does Backu's translation which evokes the spirit of Yoshimoto's young Japan. In Miyoshi's translation, Venuti (2000) is concerned about "the prevalence of 116 fluent strategies that make for easy readability and produce the illusion of transparency, enabling a translated text to pass for the original and thereby rendering the translator invisible" (p. 341). He argues that this fluency is appropriative and imperialistic; instead, he suggests "foreignizing" is the better strategy. In contrast to Miyoshi's text, Backu's text, he suggests, is a good example of foreignization. She does not cultivate "a seamless fluency that invisibly inscribes American values in the text" as Miyoshi does, and instead develops "an extremely heterogeneous language that communicates the Americanization of Japan, but simultaneously foregrounds the differences between American and Japanese culture for an English-language reader" (Venuti, 1998, p. 85). The Americanization of Japan is a reality, one which Venuti would argue deserves the reflection and analysis that literature can provide. Jay Rubin (2002), a professor of Japanese literature and translator of Murakami's works, writes about this challenge of translating post-war Japanese writers' work. He finds that "the closeness of Murakami's style to English can itself pose a problem for a translator trying to translate it 'back' into English: the single most important quality that makes his style fresh and enjoyable in Japanese is what is lost in translation" (p. 289). These young post-war writers like Murakami or Yoshimoto have projected the image of neither "exoticized nor aestheticized" Japan, but of a highly Americanized Japanese culture (Venuti, 1998, p. 75). Lila MacLellan (2000), a Canadian writer who is familiar with contemporary Japanese society, reviews Yoshimoto's Asleep, describing her works as well received by Japanese high school and college students today because Yoshimoto "could so casually, and poetically write about the moments of melancholy and joy that mark coffee shop meetings between friends or telephone conversations with the boyfriend of the moment," and yet her works, as Maclellan writes, make her readers "invariably recognize the impermanent quality of innocence and happiness and learn how to move on" (p. H9). Though Maclellan says 117 "there's no denying elements of melodrama and girl manga (popular comic book) moments in her novels," (ibid.) she suggests that Yoshimoto's works have helped "young Japanese women understand themselves better (and opened the door for other young women writers now popular in Japan)" (ibid.). Yoshimoto's work, whether or not politically uninvolved or disaffected, cannot be separated from what Japan has gone through after the war; she and her readers are products of post-colonial Japan. Before dismissing her work, it needs to be examined, historically and politically, as part of postwar Japanese literature. Murakami, Yoshimoto, and others like them may be "hybrid," the product of transculturation. Their works are criticized perhaps because they portray Japan as colonized, a view that not many Japanese may be willing to accept. The translator's challenge also delineates how the meaning of language shifts and performs differently while fusing into something new. Jay Rubin (2002) explains how Murakami's work "crosses linguistic boundaries" and raises "important questions about translation, retranslation, commercialism and the effect of the globalization of literature" (p. 273). When Rubin translated the great Meiji novelist Natsume Soseki he treated "the text more as an untouchable artifact," but when translating Murakami's work, he sees himself "as part of the ongoing global process of creation and dissemination" (p. 282). His feeling of taking part in Murakami's work suggests that Murakami's language is hybrid, shaped through interaction between English and Japanese—already a product of translation. Translating Murakami's hybrid Japanese may create a new space where the "global process of creating" occurs. In this space, students learn about self and other as not separated but connected. Studying only canonical works of literature deprives students of such a learning experience. 118 III. 10. Third Space The relationship between Japanese literature and translation illustrates how powerful translation can be in forming cultural identities and "constructing representations of foreign culture" (Venuti, 1998, p. 67). But translation also offers the potential of creating a new space where cultures and languages interconnect—a generative space in which readers can reflect upon themselves and the Other and re-examine and reconstruct their values and beliefs. Translators, too, approach their works differently as they sense constantly shifting intercultural relationships. Andre Lefevere (1998) writes that the "important point is that shifts and changes in the technique of translating did not occur at random" (p. 12): Rather, they were intimately linked with the way in which different cultures, at different times, came to terms with the phenomenon of translation, with the challenge posed by the existence of the Other and the need to select from a number of possible strategies for dealing with that Other. We are, therefore, finally beginning to see different methods of translating as well as different approaches to translational practice as contingent, not eternal, as changeable, not fixed, because we are beginning to recognise that they have, indeed, changed over the centuries, (ibid.) As current translators approach their work differently, they also translate books which have not been translated. In 1991, an American journalist, Alfred Birnbaum, for example, edited the anthology Monkey Brain Sushi: New Tastes in Japanese Fiction to seek to challenge the academic canon and reach a wider English language audience with the most recent Japanese fiction. And because his book challenged the academic canon, he could publish it only with a branch of a Tokyo-based publisher (Venuti, 1998). Birnbaum avoids Tanizaki, Kawabata, Mishima, the writers most frequently translated, and chooses, instead, writers who "were born and raised in an Americanized postwar Japan," whose fictions are "what most people really read" (1991, p. 1). Ted Goosen (1995), a Canadian writer and translator of Japanese literature, also states that Japanese "serious literature" is under attack by the baby boom generation who "seek to forge a space to express their own experience" (p. 12). Even 119 though he recognizes Oe as "the most interesting and relevant novelist in Japan," (p. 10) he also supports younger writers. For these younger writers, "Oe's clarion call to rectify the sins of the past, challenge the abuses of the present, and question the moral and cultural direction of the future is yet another instance of the old guard's impingement on the new" (p. 12). Goosen reads Japanese literature and has translated both modern and contemporary Japanese literature including Murakami and Yoshimoto. He suggests that Murakami "uses the vacuum of postmodern consumerist existence as a taking-off point, fashioning popular sagas," (p. 13) and that Yoshimoto "has crafted a surreal, evocative landscape based in part on the ubiquitous genre of Romance manga ('Japanese comics,' although their range and importance make this translation quite inadequate)" (ibid.). He argues that these young writers are "most definitely engaged in the underlying social and spiritual issues of the times" (ibid.). These young writers' works touch readers who share such social and spiritual issues. For example, in memory of her father who suffered brutal treatment from Japanese soldiers in World War II, Canadian writer and editor, Madeleine Thien (1999) writes about her experience of reading Murakami's work. She reports that Murakami once said that his father's wartime memories had a profound influence on his writing. Thien reflects upon the memory of her father and Murakami's work and finds that for Murakami "the Second World War is an open wound in Japanese history" (p. E8). She writes that "[o]ut of love, respect and grief, the Asian children of Second World War survivors have sought to commit their parents' stories to paper" (p. E8). Even though her father fought against Japan and suffered, she finds a connection with Murakami and sees Japan "differently, as a culture fraught with denial, but also rich with artists and writers like Haruki Murakami—insistent second- generation voices urging a clear-eyed, healing revisiting of the past" (p. E9). It is not Tanizaki or Mishima, but Murakami, who has helped her see Japan differently and transcend her and her father's painful 120 memory, giving birth to something more productive—her passion to write. Translation has enabled her to explore her journey as well as Murakami's where she finds the space they can dwell together. This space might be the space of possibility and hope that transforms enemies/victims/colonized into human beings. Yet without translation, Thien would never have found a shared space in Murakami's work. People read and take that reading into their lives, and it is a reader who "translates" and decides whether or not a text is worth reading. Goosen (1995) argues that Westerners are "inheritors of a centuries-long pattern of thought, Orientalism, that posits an antithetical Oriental Other against whom we can define ourselves" (p. 17). He writes about the value of shared discussion and reflection which opens up a new space in our consciousness: To characterize the Japanese as groupist imitators, for example, indirectly voices our wishful assumption that Westerners are quintessentially individualistic and creative; in the same sense, by elevating the idea of "Oriental wisdom," we signal our concern that our own culture has grown too logical and neglectful of spiritual concerns. Disentangling the web of stereotype and prejudice that shapes our view of Japan, therefore, means unravelling our own self-image: one starts out asking, "Who are these guys?" and ends up with the inevitable rejoinder, "Who the hell am I? (pp. 17-18) Like Thien, like Goosen, readers of Japanese literature in translation have found a new space. Literature in translation, not only contemporary work but also other works, have inspired writers and readers and helped them perceive a space between different cultures and languages, enabling them to share and reflect upon their cultural identities. Ted Aoki (2000) in his discussion of translating the Western notion of individualism into Japanese suggests that "absolute translation is an impossibility," and that "translation is ever incomplete and partial, and further that on-going translation is ever on-going transformation, generating newness in life's movement" (p. 8). This newness in life's movement is the possibility of translation. And this space is Bhabha's Third Space. Bhabha (1994) suggests that the "very concepts of 121 homogeneous national cultures, the consensual or contiguous transmission of historical traditions, or 'organic' ethnic communities—as the ground of cultural comparativism—are in a profound process of redefinition" (p. 5). Japan is facing this redefinition: The borderline work of culture demands an encounter with 'newness' that is not part of the continuum of past and present. It creates a sense of the new as an insurgent act of cultural translation. Such art does not merely recall the past as social cause or aesthetic precedent; it renews the past, refiguring it as a contingent 'in-between' space, that innovates and interrupts the performance of the present, (p. 7) Bhabha's Third Space illustrates the experience of Thien and Goosen after encountering the translated books of Murakami. Murakami's work itself is also Third Space, incorporating ambivalent thoughts of pre-war and post-war generations, Japan and the United States, Nationalism and Colonialism. Bhabha writes what the production of meaning requires: These two places [the I and the You are] mobilized in the passage through a Third Space, which represents both the general conditions of language and the specific implication of the utterance in a performative and institutional strategy of which it cannot 'in itself be conscious. What this unconscious relation introduces is an ambivalence in the act of interpretation . . . . It is that Third Space, though unrepresentable in itself, which constitutes the discursive conditions of enunciation that ensure that the meaning and symbols of culture have no primordial unity or fixity: that even the same signs can be appropriated, translated, rehistoricized and read anew, (pp. 36-37). By exploring this Third Space, "we may elude the polarity and emerge as the others of our selves" (p. 39). Translation makes it possible to enter into such a space. Third Space can also be found in traditionally defined canonical works of literature. The translator Eileen Kato (1997) writes that there is "ample evidence that James Joyce, Ireland's most famous exile, was, among other things, a jappyknowledgist" (p. 1). She examines Joyce's Finnegans Wake and suggests: A close examination of his Japanese allusions demonstrates that he knew indeed what they meant and that they were painstakingly and unerringly fitted into a preordained and faithfully followed scheme to buttress the central theme of this complex and chaotic-seeming work, (ibid.) 122 She argues that Finnegans Wake has links to the Japanese Noh play3 7 Kakitsubata (Iris), of which a translation was available to Joyce. When she went to Japan, she met a Japanese man from whom she learned the symbolism underlying Kakitsubata and realized that symbolisms found in Finnegans Wake such as "an excessive preoccupation with color, bridges, thunder, and lightning, and the rainbow" (p. 4) overlap with Japanese ones. Meeting this Japanese man helped her not only better learn about Noh plays, but also reexamine Joyce's work. She observes that "the greatest satisfaction [Joyce] could have derived from his growing acquaintance with Japanese language and literature would have been finding confirmation of the feasibility of what he had been aiming at and experimenting with for years," and that his language was "a sensational innovation" in his time (p. 5). One of the examples she provides is Joyce's reference to "shirokuro," the combination of Japanese words "shiro" (white) and "kuro" (black). Kato argues that Joyce was referring to Yin-yang,3 8 one of the important elements in Kakitsubata. Kato writes that Finnegans Wake is "a verbal masterpiece of Celtic interlacing," and each "illumination is an intricate interweaving of a multiplicity of strands, all distinct and every one a necessary part of the overall design that it enhances" (p. 14). Kato's analysis suggests that Joyce may have found a third space inspired by translation of a Japanese Noh play and its language and created such space in his work. In turn, his work has helped Kato, who was born in Ireland and is now a Japanese citizen by marriage, dwell in a third space. A third space, however, neither preexists, nor can be found within a space of 3 7 Noh is a traditional Japanese drama "developed in the 14th century from religious sources and folk myths. It is characterized by its highly stylized acting, unique vocalization, wooden masks and elaborate costumes, and above all its symbolism and severely simplified setting and performance style" (Yamaguchi & Kojima, 1990, p. 48). 3 8 Webster's Ninth New Collegiate Dictionary (1991) defines that yin means "the feminine passive principle in nature that in Chinese cosmology is exhibited in darkness, cold, or wetness" (p. 1368) and yang means "the masculine active principle in nature.. .exhibited in light, heat, or dryness" and together they produce "all 123 metaphysical/metaphorical signification. If they are willing to explore a space of on-going translation, readers may discover interlacing meaning. Reading texts has such potential, encouraging readers to examine preexisting knowledge, discover new understanding of other cultures, and transform values and beliefs into new light. Studying literature may provide students with a third space, and experiencing such a space helps students better perceive a constantly shifting self and other. They can appreciate layers of a language and cultural interchange which have shaped and are shaping them. III.ll. A Future of Ambivalence As discussed previously, many critics suggest that the Orientalists have constructed "enigmatic" Japan and have not wanted readers to see beyond their construct. They say that after the Second World War, the United States' occupation forces turned Japan into a westernized country by disseminating American values, ideas and culture, and in that process the Japanese identity got lost. But this westernization is not just a product of the United States post-war occupation and political, and economic control, but also a result of the willingness and desire of Japan to become a First World nation. Oe (1994) suggests that the Japanese government's and Japanese corporations' lack of critical reflection is to be blamed: Japan has pursued competitive consumerism and thus become known primarily through Sony or Honda, and humanistic values have been left behind—the "thoughts and hopes of the Japanese people have not been expressed" (p. 33). Perhaps translation in Japan has never reached the point where Benjamin's vessel can be completed; Japan has taken fragments from others but lost many of its own fragments. Like Oe, Miyoshi (1991) feels that it is "reasonable to expect more attention from that comes to be" (p. 1365). 124 Western intellectuals, if Japan's intellectual production is as appealing and useful to the targeted buyers as, say, the productions of Sony, Toyota, or Nikon" (p. 219); Japanese writers are ambivalent about whether "they are speaking from the position of First World or Third World intellectuals," (p. 219) and perhaps this ambivalence is the very concern that should be addressed. As Miyoshi and Oe suggest, in Japan's intellectual climate, Western cultural theories are discussed not critically but superficially, and then discarded for the next theory. Translation generates theories and ideas, as well as entailing much real and necessary practical work, but colonization does not happen simply as a result of that; the problem arises from the Japanese acceptance of the colonial power and authority of the West. Both Oe and Miyoshi suggest that although, through translation, Japanese intellectuals have read and digested various political and cultural theories and ideas, they have failed to develop their own thinking; they read, accept, and discharge ideas when a new theory displaces the old. Oe (1994) argues that "there has been, and still is, a tendency to think that an intellectual effort has been made merely by transplanting or translating new Western concepts into Japanese; and this belief is held by both the translator and those who read translations" (p. 87). Miyoshi (1991) makes the same point, saying what is absent is "any indication of the awareness of the meaning of these critics and theorists [Foucault, Barthes, Derrida, for example] in the context of both English studies in Japan and Japanese society/culture itself (p. 285). When a modern Japanese literature emerged, writers had strong needs to search within a Japanese framework for Japan's unknown future, but as the country gained economic power and prosperity, this sense was lost. Oe (1994) calls this chronic problem an ambiguity; Japan is located between "two opposite poles of ambiguity," as the "modernization of Japan was oriented toward learning from and imitating the West, yet the country is situated in Asia and 125 has firmly maintained its traditional culture" (p. 117). The Japanese need to locate theories and criticisms within Japan's own social and historical context. Writers of contemporary Japanese literature, and a majority of Japanese critics and theorists, are products of post-war Western (particularly American) influences—a metaphoric colonization. Whether or not they are aware, they tend to accept knowledge produced by Western thinkers and scholars without questioning it. Or perhaps contemporary writers struggle with ambiguity existing in their Americanized values and life styles, and writing is a way to express their frustration. This is why they have captured a young readership in Japan even as their works tend to be disregarded by scholars and critics. Translation has helped the Japanese to learn about Westerners, and those works have led them to construct and perceive themselves as the Oriental Other. For the Japanese, there is always the borderline between different languages and cultures, and they have yearned to cross this borderline. The Japanese, however, as a result of being mentally colonized, have created a mock-West and have failed to perceive a space in which translated works would have offered the Japanese the occasion to reexamine their lives and identities constructed after the Second World War. Contemporary Japanese literature translated into English has offered a very small readership in the West the opportunity to perceive changes in Japan and explore themselves in relation to Japan; the Japanese tend not to analyze Western literature or other written work translated into Japanese in similar ways. For most people in the West, the Japanese are either strangers or stereotypes. Even today, Oe (1994) wonders " i f the image now being presented to the world isn't of a people more unfathomable than ever"' (p. 54). Oe urges politicians, bureaucrats, and business leaders, as well as contemporary writers to respond to this crisis. He feels that hope lies among certain young Japanese writers and critics who have begun to recognize new literary movements in China and Korea and study Asian literature, which, he believes, will lead the Japanese away from "a narrow, aggressive nationalism, towards a more open future" (p. 55). Ted Aoki (1996) discusses "East and West" and suggests that we should "move away from the identity-centred 'East and West' and into the space between East and West" (emphasis original, p. 6). He writes that the "labels, 'East' and 'West' suggest two distinct cultural wholes. . .each identifiable, standing distinctly, and separated from each other," and this "has been the dominant Western modernist imaginary deeply ingrained by the works of historians, anthropologists and the like" (p. 5). He suggests that educators and business people tend to think about crossing a bridge between two places, but that "we are in no hurry to cross over; in fact, such bridges urge us to linger," because they "are dwelling places for people," inviting them "to transcend instrumentalism to understand what it means to dwell together humanly" (p. 6). There is no longer East and West but spaces emerging between the two in which people embrace and talk about their differences equally. Translation of literature can offer such a bridge where people linger and ponder. Exploring literature in translation helps us appreciate the opportunity provided by texts to reflect upon history and its resulting relationships among different nations. Texts also help us reexamine our perspectives and recognize the power of language to shape our thoughts. Students need to examine what forces have made them who they are today. Literature provides them with rich resources to discuss these forces. They also need to realize what translated literature—not just the literature of the past but contemporary literature in a post-colonial era—can offer to the readers of the West or other parts of the world, a borderless, generative space and a locus to share and appreciate difference. The history of translation in Japan suggests that any language can be hybrid, or a product of translation, evolved through cultural exchange. Translation between English and 127 Japanese illustrates how much translation can contribute to the production of new knowledge and to intercultural exchange, but at the same time points to the danger that translation can be used to shape particular images of other cultures, a process which often creates stereotypes, as a post-colonial approach to translation indicates. Japan and China have struggled to emulate the West while the West only wants to see Japan or China as the enigmatic Other. In reality, however, Japan has lost its fragments along the way. There is hope, nevertheless, as contemporary writers and their translated works promise, that newness has been emerging and reaching people beyond frames. Willinsky (1998) writes that it "is simply too easy to teach English as if it were the soul of civilized knowing, the heart of great literature, and the very tongue of democracy," (p. 191) yet that is what Japan admires and is eager to receive, resulting in the development of a "Westernized" Japanese language and literature. But, in fact, English too has been developed through translating other languages: Much of th