Spanishly, Englishly, Japanesely
In his essay "The Task of the Translator", Walter Benjamin makes a fascinating distinction between what a word means, and how a word means. For Benjamin, the differences between languages are, at base, differences between how words mean. That is, what any one expression means can remain identical between languages, but what differs between them is 'how' a particular language goes about "meaning" (taken as a verb). As he puts it:
"In the words Brot and pain, what is meant is the same, but the way of meaning it is not. This difference in the way of meaning permits the word Brot to mean something other to a German than what the word pain means to a Frenchman, so that these words are not interchangeable for them; in fact, they strive to exclude each other. As to what is meant, however, the two words signify the very same thing".(Readers note: Brot in German and pain in French mean "bread" in English - this is not talking about 'pain' as in 'ow it hurts' pain).
Thinking about it in this way is interesting because it changes what one might call the 'traditional' way of thinking about the relation between words and meaning. For, if the above is cogent, it implies that words do not have meaning. Words are, rather, ways of meaning. We express meaning by way of words, but words are not what have meaning. One implication of this is that - something obvious - words are not the only 'way' in which meaning can be expressed. Words - or language more generally - becomes one means among others by which meaning can be expressed.
Quite apart from this through, is a renewed way of thinking about the status of language. For, on this view, it implies that language is, as a whole, adverbial through and through. We are used to thinking about adverbs as 'modifiers' of certain words: "she eats slowly", "they laughed loudly". In each case, it's a matter of specifying the way in which 'she ate' or 'they laughed'. But if language itself is a way of meaning, then languages - in the plural - are similarly varying ways of meaning. In that case, not: "he spoke Spanish", but "he spoke Spanishly"; not "I speak English", but "I speak Englishly". For as Benjamin, quoting Rudolf Pannwitz approvingly, put it: "language differs from language almost the way dialect differs from dialect".
Last point, to return to the relation between meaning and words. If words don't have meaning, but can nonetheless express meaning, this puts us very close to the Wittgenstein of the TLP. For Wittgenstein, what he calls 'propositions' do not so much as have meaning, as they show it: "A proposition shows its sense" (TLP 4.022). This becomes much easier to understand if we take language as a way of meaning, rather than as that which 'has' meaning. Wittgenstein himself says as much: "What expresses itself in language, we cannot express by means of language" (4.121): sense or meaning is always anterior to language, even as it is expressed 'in' it. Hence the famous mutual exclusivity of 'showing' and 'saying': "What can be shown, cannot be said" (4.1212).
"In the words Brot and pain, what is meant is the same, but the way of meaning it is not. This difference in the way of meaning permits the word Brot to mean something other to a German than what the word pain means to a Frenchman, so that these words are not interchangeable for them; in fact, they strive to exclude each other. As to what is meant, however, the two words signify the very same thing".(Readers note: Brot in German and pain in French mean "bread" in English - this is not talking about 'pain' as in 'ow it hurts' pain).
Thinking about it in this way is interesting because it changes what one might call the 'traditional' way of thinking about the relation between words and meaning. For, if the above is cogent, it implies that words do not have meaning. Words are, rather, ways of meaning. We express meaning by way of words, but words are not what have meaning. One implication of this is that - something obvious - words are not the only 'way' in which meaning can be expressed. Words - or language more generally - becomes one means among others by which meaning can be expressed.
Quite apart from this through, is a renewed way of thinking about the status of language. For, on this view, it implies that language is, as a whole, adverbial through and through. We are used to thinking about adverbs as 'modifiers' of certain words: "she eats slowly", "they laughed loudly". In each case, it's a matter of specifying the way in which 'she ate' or 'they laughed'. But if language itself is a way of meaning, then languages - in the plural - are similarly varying ways of meaning. In that case, not: "he spoke Spanish", but "he spoke Spanishly"; not "I speak English", but "I speak Englishly". For as Benjamin, quoting Rudolf Pannwitz approvingly, put it: "language differs from language almost the way dialect differs from dialect".
Last point, to return to the relation between meaning and words. If words don't have meaning, but can nonetheless express meaning, this puts us very close to the Wittgenstein of the TLP. For Wittgenstein, what he calls 'propositions' do not so much as have meaning, as they show it: "A proposition shows its sense" (TLP 4.022). This becomes much easier to understand if we take language as a way of meaning, rather than as that which 'has' meaning. Wittgenstein himself says as much: "What expresses itself in language, we cannot express by means of language" (4.121): sense or meaning is always anterior to language, even as it is expressed 'in' it. Hence the famous mutual exclusivity of 'showing' and 'saying': "What can be shown, cannot be said" (4.1212).
Comments (44)
Quoting StreetlightX
What's the difference between "having" and "showing"? How can you show something you don't have?
This is a really good post. It made me think about lots of things.
Quoting StreetlightX
The idea of translation has always been interesting to me. It seems that translating a document, especially fiction or poetry, would be harder than writing it. And yes, the difference comes down to how meaning is expressed, but it's more than that. Maybe getting the literal meaning would be relatively easy, but how to get that to match the rhythm, tone, connotation, and feeling of the text seems impossible. Then again, I guess all that is the meaning.
I think this is relevant, not sure - my children were involved in a French immersion program in elementary school. From kindergarten through third grade, they were taught entirely in French so that they became fluent quickly. We went to France when my daughter was seven and people thought we were from Quebec. What struck me then and still fascinates me now is that it feels like when you get two languages, you get two minds.
Quoting StreetlightX
I'm not sure if I agree with this. Maybe I don't get it. Maybe it's this:
Quoting StreetlightX
I've been thinking about what "meaning" means for a while, especially in the context of what art means. I've come to the conclusion that art doesn't really mean anything. It's one of a class of things the experience of which is their only meaning. Music is another. This is a (long) quote from "October Light," a book by John Gardner. I've used it before. I'll hide it so I won't scare people away.
[hide="Reveal"][i]Then it had come to him as a startling revelation-though he couldn't explain even to his horn teacher Andre Speyer why it was that he found the discovery startling-that the music meant nothing at all but what it was: panting, puffing, comically hurrying French horns. That had been, ever since- until tonight- what he saw when he closed his eyes and listened: horns, sometimes horn players, but mainly horn sounds, the very nature of horn sounds, puffing, hurrying, . getting in each other's way yet in wonderful agreement finally, as if by accident. Sometimes, listening, he would smile, and his father would say quizzically, "What's with you?" It was the same when he listened to the other movements: What he saw was French horns,. that is, the music. The moods changed, things happened, but only to French horns, French horn sounds.
There was a four -note theme in the second movement that sounded like ..Oh When the Saints," a theme that shifted from key to key, sung with great confidence by a solo horn, answered by a kind of scornful gibberish from the second, third, and fourth, as if the first horn's opinion was ridiculous and they knew what they knew. Or the slow movement: As if they'd finally stopped and thought it out, the horns played together, a three-note broken chord several times repeated, and then the first horn taking off as if at the suggestion of the broken chord and flying like a gull-except not like a gull, nothing like that, flying like only a solo French horn. Now the flying solo became the others' suggestion and the chord began to undulate, and all four horns together were saying something, almost words, first a mournful sound like Maybe and then later a desperate oh yes I think so, except to give it words was to change it utterly: it was exactly what it was, as clear as day-or a moonlit lake where strange creatures lurk- and nothing could describe it but itself. It wasn't sad,. the slow movement; only troubled, hesitant, exactly as he often felt himself. Then came- and he would sometimes laugh aloud- the final, fast movement.
Though the slow movement's question had never quite been answered, all the threat was still there, the fast movement started with absurd self-confidence, with some huffings and puffings, and then the first horn set off wit h delightful bravado, like a fat man on skates who hadn't skated in years (but not like a fat man on skates, like nothing but itself), Woo-woo-woo-woops! and the spectator horns laughed tiggledy-tiggledy tiggledy!, or that was vaguely the idea- every slightly wrong chord, every swoop, every hand-stop changed everything completely ... It was impossible to say what , precisely, he meant.[/i][/hide]
My conclusion - "meaning" means putting things into words. There are many experiences, communications, that don't mean anything. For me, this is the essence of Taoism.
Quoting StreetlightX
I think this is what I meant when I said having two languages is like having two minds.
I may have gone a bit off topic. If so, sorry.
Iish Mightly tryly thatly.
Greek aletheia: the opposite of lethe 'oblivion', where in English, we would say truth, factuality, reality. For the Greeks, when they spoke of truth, reality, they thought of it in terms of absence of oblivion, while in English, there is no such connotation.
This is probably most evident in idioms, as it is often misleading to translate them word-for-word.
For example the English idiom bread and butter ('a person's livelihood or main source of income'; or
used in reference to something everyday or ordinary) doesn't automatically translate into the German Brot und Butter, for German has no such idiom with this meaning.
These two different senses of each of those verbs are related, in that by my actions I am trying to effect something in the listener's mind, trying to get them to think some way; but it is not so much my actions directly, but the words themselves "cast" (as it were) by my actions, that actually has any effect on the listener. I can't directly do anything to the listener's mind, but I can do something with the hopes of it indirectly having some particular effect, and the things I do can have some effect or another, and if everything goes according to my plans the effect that those words actually has on the listener will be the effect that I hoped for, but maybe they won't: maybe I'll mean something by my words, but those same words will mean something else to the listener.
Then it would be inaccurate to translate the literal meaning of the idiom to another language. It would be more accurate to translate the meaning of the idiom to another language. Just because there isn't another way to say the same thing in another language doesn't mean that the meaning can't be translated to another language. After all what the scribbles point to is more important than the scribbles used.
Just because we can be artful with language doesn't mean that we translate the art itself. We translate the meaning of the art. Only words that have the same meaning can be translated. If a word means another word rather than something that isn't another word, then we translate the other words until the words no longer point to other words but things and actions that are not other words.
I may have missed something, but if Brot and pain both signify bread, then I don't follow why "these words are not interchangeable for them" or how they "strive to exclude each other".
Also, this sounds more like meaning as use rather than the picture theory, so I'm curious why you compared it to the picture theory instead.
Yeah, it wouldn't be wrong to see this as another angle of attack with respect to meaning as use. Importantly though, I'm expressly not comparing it to the picture theory. For as I read it, the picture theory can be jettisoned while still retaining the distinction between saying and showing that is at work in the TLP. For instance, take 4.022: "A proposition shows its sense. A proposition shows how things stand if it is true. And it says that they do so stand." I think the first sentence of this is exactly correct, while I think the second sentence - which sets a constraint upon what 'sense' is - is exactly wrong. Moreover, I think the PI is a recognition of exactly this, and that it too is a working out of what it means to jettison the picture theory while maintaining the saying/showing distinction. If I quoted the TLP rather than the PI, its simply because I think the TLP is much clearer about this, while the PI is alot more circumlocutious.
Quoting Luke
That part of the quote kinda puzzles me too, but I think he just means that you're not likely to code switch from French to German and vice versa while speaking about bread. I think anyway.
My favorite is "tout le monde," which, in French, literally means "all the world." Idiomatically, it means "everybody," even if I only mean everybody in the room.
When you learn a new language, a rule is to translate thoughts, not words. Direct translation of words gives you garbage. Most students grasp that intuitively, but it's confusing on examination.
It seems to picture thoughts as some neutral zone between expressions. I think we'd like to see the expression fused to the thought, but the needs of translation won't quite let us do that.
‘The Task of the Translator' central theme is the relation between the original and a copy, or the origin and its outcome. Benjamin asserts that the connection between any two languages is primarily based on 'the ideal pre-language' (the origin). Later, he reconsidered this approach. In 'The Work of aAt in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction’, there is no origin anymore. Since 'the aura as the unique phenomenon of a distance' has been completely lost, the origin appears deceptive and illusory. Therefore, Benjamin started rethinking the relation between seeable and sayable (meaning and words).
Except for machines, which only have access to words, but do a fairly good job of translating these days.
I disagree that "A proposition shows its sense" is "exactly correct", particularly taking into account the preceding remarks, say from 4.01 to 4.021. I think Wittgenstein takes aim at this in PI 141, regarding the different applications (or lines of projection) that a picture (or proposition) may take. That is, a proposition is just a static bunch of symbols on a page. Wittgenstein is incorrect in the Tractatus to say "I understand the proposition without having its sense explained to me" (4.021). This reminds me of the moral of the story of PI's opening quote. Obviously, we must be taught how to use and understand language, including propositions.
This is why I found it odd that you would reference the Tractatus rather than the PI, especially given Benjamin's different ways of meaning.
Since Benjamin's essay is on translation, it's ironic that I found a different translation of the article, including the passage you quoted. I include some preceding sentences for additional context (although I admittedly still struggle with it):
Quoting Walter Benjamin
I'm still unclear on this. Are the different ways of meaning simply different attitudes by the speakers of different languages toward the words/meanings of their respective languages? Or a different attitude towards the signified objects? Or something else?
If a proposition is static symbols on a page, then how is that different than a picture on a page? Observing someone use the word is also remembered visually and reproduced from the visual memory. So I don't get this distinction between use and pictures, or between having and showing. The fact is that if the thing/event you want to talk about is right in front of you, then there is no need for words. Think about watching a ball game and the sports announcer is telling the play-by-play. Is the announcer showing you anything that you can't see with your eyes? Maybe it's useful for first time viewers that don't know the rules if the game, but for veterans, it's just redundant information.
I could ask the same thing about being and showing. In being a certain way, shows others your state of body/mind. Eating shows that you are hungry, or like the food you are eating. Scratching your self shows that you are itchy. How would I be able to interpret these behaiviors if I didn't have the same feelings of being hungry and itchy, the same morphology, and the eyes to observe others react to their states of being hungry and itchy?
It's not. Both words and pictures can have different uses and thus different meanings or senses. Think of different uses/meanings of emojis, for example.
Quoting Harry Hindu
Okay, but that's observing someone use a word (in some context), not just observing a picture or proposition.
Quoting Harry Hindu
Here you're no longer talking about pictures or propositions.
This is best illustrated by and explained with examples, but for this, all the participants need to be fluent enough in the languages compared. It's a phenomenon that multilingual people can easily understand, but otherwise, it's tedious to explain.
That depends on what type of text one is trying to machine translate.
Poetry, for example, is generally hard to render equivalently into a different language. Technical texts, not so much.
I wonder about this one too. We'd need someone who is fluent in French. I know Germans tend to associate Brot with hard work and basic necessities (which is evident in the German idioms with Brot), but do the French do so as well?
Unless the difference is in fact primarily culinary, e.g.:
You might consider it tedious to explain, but that the same expression in different languages can somehow mean (or "how it means") differently - as opposed to the traditional way of meaning - is supposed to be the topic of the discussion. If "how it means" cannot be explicated, then what are we discussing? And what are further examples meant to show? It doesn't help that the example cited in the OP is puzzling to all.
As regards "what a word means, and how a word means", a word such as "ndege", for example, is a group of symbols, and as a group of symbols has no intrinsic meaning. Any meaning a word has is external to the word and established by a link to a fact in the world.
In the spirit of the Tractatus, I am sure that most people would straight away know the meaning of "ndege" from just five pictures.
As Wittgenstein wrote in Tractatus 4.022: "A proposition shows its sense", meaning that the word "ndege" shows its sense by a link to a fact in the world, where the link has been agreed by the society within which the word is being used.
As Benjamin wrote in The Translator's Task (translated by Steven Rendall): "In "brot" and "pain", the intended object is the same , but the mode of intention differs", meaning that different languages may use different words, but they all have the same intended object, the same fact in the world.
The answer to "what a word means" is that words have no intrinsic meaning. The answer to "how a word means" is that there is an external link from the word to a fact in the world, where the link has been agreed by the society within which the word is being used.
When dragging from computer, get message "You do not have permission to upload files"
"In China, there is a restaurant called “Translate server error”. The owner attempted to translate the Chinese word for restaurant into English but the machine translation produced an error. Not knowing the difference, the restaurant printed the error out in English and used it for their sign". --linualinx
It's actually much simpler than this. Words in different languages can be translated only because they point to the same thing. If they don't point to the same thing, then they are not translatable. The fact is that most, of not all, words in any language are translatable in another. It just may be that one word in one language translates to many words in a another language, but this is no different than defining the single word in the first language, as the act of defining is translating one word into many in the same language, or at least pointing at the object or event you are defining.
Think of how you would translate/define "Christmas Tree" to an alien from another planet that doesn't have trees or Christmas, but has religions, holidays and bushes, and words in their own language that point to these things. What if you just pointed at a Christmas Tree?
Of course. I had actually compiled a reply to an earlier post of yours here, but lost it in editing. I used the English word mother and how in English it has meanings that the word mati in my Slavic native language doesn't have, even though they generally count as equivalents.
It's not clear that they could make sense of the object per se. Perhaps if I pointed to a Christmas Tree and said something like "This is how we on Earth symbolize a specific and important religious holiday."
(Something similar is already happening when we can make sense of a Christimas cactus tree and other alternatives for trees.)
We can see that many words have a cross-language translation relationship like this (L: language, M: meaning, ):
Word in L1
M1
M2
M3
Word in L2
M1
M2
M4
(L2 has a different word to express M3)
How do we make sense of words that overlap in some aspects of their meaning, but not in whole?
If the main/some meanings of the words are the same, how come all of them aren't?
It should be possible to exemplify this within the same language, to better pinpoint what we're talking about. For example, by comparing Shakespeare's original text and the modernized version(s) of it.
Hamlet says of himself that he is a rogue and peasant slave and that he is pigeon-liver'd and lacks gall. Now what is it that is lost or added in translation when we say that he thought of himself as timid, cowardly? What is it that is Shakespearely?
We would expect L1 and L2 to contain different words (to express M1, M2, etc.), because they are different languages. Your parenthesis appears to indicate M4 is a "different word" used to express the same meaning as M3, yet you distinguish them as "M3" and "M4" which denotes different meanings.
Quoting baker
Thank you for a better explication here: that "how it means" is related to what "is lost or added in translation". Unfortunately, you don't explain what is lost or added in translation. Are you able to answer the question you posed: what is it that is Shakespearely? Is it anything other than the original (untranslated) style or form of expression?
I'd say that as bread may be of quite different kinds and have somewhat different uses and roles in the cuisines of Germany and France, that these differences of practice vis a vis bread constitute the differences of intention in how the words 'Brot' and 'pain' embody meaning in their respective cultures.
No, the scheme is supposed to mean that a word in one language has a group of meanings and a word in another language has a different group of meanings, and that the two groups partly overlap (see discussion with ).
I speak several languages, so I can think of many practical examples. But I can't quite pinpoint yet what the phenomenon at hand is. I need to think abou tthis some more.
Style or form of expression are also meaningful, relevant to meaning, otherwise they wouldn't exist.
And behind the words, which constitute conceptual boundaries, is an unbroken continuum of meaning which is common to all languages.
It’s like color, the various shades of which are laid out on a continuous unbroken spectrum. But the eye must break this continuity up into many different segments in order to comprehend it, for the colors are really infinite in number. We must set artificial boundaries between the various colors, therefore, in order to recognize them. Different ppl however set these boundaries at different places along the spectrum, and what looks red to me therefore often appears orange to someone else.
Likewise, regarding language, words are each language’s effort to impose boundaries of discrete meaning upon a continuous unbroken universal conceptual spectrum...
...for example, consider the English phrase, “a coat of paint”. In translating the same concept literally from another language into English I might write “a skin of paint”, or, “a film of paint”, or, “a layer of paint”, etc, depending on the source language’s idiom. The common area of the conceptual spectrum upon which all these different words intersect is that of a “covering”, but they also branch in different directions to include areas of the spectrum outside that one...
...so “coat” subsumes also “hide”, and “mantle” or “cloak”, as “film” does “motion picture”, and “layer” may generally mean “stratum”...
...but whatever idiom a ppl use to describe in their language what the English call a “coat” of paint, all understand it to be the same thing, have the same ontology, display the same characteristics. Furthermore I would suggest that, were I reading in English what I knew to be a literal translation, and should I encounter a phrase such as “a skin of paint” or “a film of paint”, I would instantly know what was meant, even if the phrase “coat of paint” didn't occur to my mind...
...and if it didn’t, what would that mean? It would indicate to me that I had succeeded in immersing myself in the original language by means of literal translation into my own.
Literal translation may be clunky; it may be confusing; it may even be misleading (footnotes, however, can be employed to clear this up), but the one great advantage it has over looser translations is that the judgement of the translator is largely removed; and, if the reader is willing to as though retranslate his native language into the source one through the translation, he can almost as though read the original through his native tongue.
This is particularly important for the contemporary student of philosophy, who cannot be expected to be familiar with the several languages in which the heritage of philosophy resides, and who is therefore prone to depend upon translations which are largely interpretive. Several key terms down through the tradition, which were faithfully translated throughout it, have been obscured in modern translations...
...one of these is Greek psyche, Roman animus, English soul: a contemporary translator of Greek or Latin might choose “self” to translate these words, but the self is a construct of modern philosophy, which broke from and attempted to supersede ancient philosophy. So what is accomplished by the translator in this instance other than to obscure an ancient concept under the guise of being up-to-date?
Reading literal translations of ancient literature has the salutary effect on the reader of making him want to learn to read the original languages. Reading interpretive modern translations however encourages nothing but adherence to the status quo. Behind such translations is the notion of progress: that we know better now than they did way back then. Why then bother to translate the ancients at all? Why not just forget them and move on?
This seems about right, I think. It sounds as though the French and the Germans have intended to distinguish their national breads from each other to make them as distinct or as different as possible. But I'd imagine they would still consider each other's bread as a type of bread. So it remains unclear what this has to do with the meaning of words.
Your distinction between mother and mati indicates that you were talking about one word from each language with the same meaning, but that those words may have other meanings in their respective languages that are not shared by the two languages. I suppose this could be relevant where non-literal or double meanings are possible, such as double entendre, but I don't think this is what the article or the OP is talking about.
What do you think it is talking about?
That's what I've been trying to figure out. Possibly what Janus said. But I doubt it is to do with translation of homophones.
An example:
"Life is not a game of luck. If you want to win, work hard."
A saying that can be found in popular self-help literature, which also happens to be a genre that is widely popular and widely translated. So translation issues occur.*
In my native language, a Slavic one, we have no word that would have the same cluster of meanings as the English win. (To the best of my knowledge, neither does German.)
So how can I translate this motivational saying into my native language, while 1. preserving its original meaning, and 2. still keeping it short and succint enough to be a motivational saying in my native language?
I ask myself why the author of that sentence used win, and not succeed, or prevail. Did he intend a double entendre or not? The English win can be used in a wide spectrum of meanings: it can be used in the context of luck, in the context of competition or conflict, and generally in the context of making an effort. For each of those contexts, I would need to use a different word in my native language, but this way possibly losing the originally intended meaning.
*American self-help texts can sound stilted, unnatural, clumsy in translation. While some of this can be attributed to an insuficiently trained translator, some of the problems are definitely due to the major cultural differences.
Another example: emotional rollercoaster. This phrase implies that Americans view emotions as a dangerous, fast, up and down movement or process. We have no such notion, and no verbal equivalent.
Yes 'brot' or 'pain' both refer to bread, otherwise what would we be talking about?
This just reads like a contradiction to me. Either it means the same thing because it signifies the same thing or Brot and pain mean different things because Germans and French use them differently because it signifies other things to them.
If this is about the observation that French bread is decidedly different from German bread and that therefore a French person with no knowledge of other types of bread understands pain only to signify French bread then I'm not sure what is new here.
Disclaimer: I don't know shit about the philosophy of language.