Lost - or Gained - in Translation

Last week as the anniversary of the takeover of the American Embassy in Tehran approached, some groups in Iran were marking the day with celebrations, calling it a “Great Day of Death to America.” The political me wants to get mad at them and be insulted, but the linguistic me thinks it just sounds like too much fun! They have the naming business down!

I want to go! Where can I get tickets for this “great day”?

I cannot even say it without my voice naturally taking an optimistic lilt. Maybe something was gained in translation. I could not help but think about each time I heard some news report mentioning the activities of the day: it sounds so great.

“Death to America” has been a standard translation for anti-American sentiments since the uprising in Iran surrounding the takeover of the embassy and holding the staff hostage for 444 days. It was one of the first great slogans I heard in my life.

Sadly, our politicians learned from the effective sloganeering. Now so much of what we hear is the message condensed to a soundbite - a news show teaser version of Twitter: lacking content, but catchy. The more media fragmentation allows everyone to selectively gather news, the better messengers have been able to shape their content. All manner of hatred has been couched in the most benign phrases.

Bigotry disguised by wholesome language is still bigotry. Labeling of the “others” separates. Demonizing anyone who disagrees becomes easy when hidden behind the latest motivational phrase. Name calling at the SAT level.

All sides are equally adept at manipulating language for their cause. If they were not, at this point, they would not be a side.

As strongly as I feel about certain issues, I intentionally follow sources who feel differently so I can maintain some perspective on the issue. When I feel strongly about an idea, it is because I have information and experience to support those beliefs and drive my actions accordingly. Others have different experiences that alter the way they react to the issue. As long as they have some kind of legitimate knowledge base and experiential case for their beliefs, we can discuss the issue somewhat rationally. When they have no legitimate knowledge base or experience to support their belief and are only relying on what a few talking head thought leaders are saying, there is no way to have a discussion.

Logic cannot debate emotion because emotion does not understand reason. Both are powerful tools at motivating people on issues, but logically approaching an emotional argument will not affect the position of the other any more than an emotional argument will not sway someone guided by logic. Both parties leave the encounter feeling the other as even more utterly wrong than upon entering the encounter.

As a word person, I find myself frustrated at each side’s use of generally innocuous phrases to convey a divisive idea. Whenever challenged about the idea motivating the phrase, the user immediately Shirley Temples some, “golly! How could you ever think that from what I said?” Meanwhile, racism, sexism, and religious bigotry exist openly more freely than in the last several decades.

Until we, in mass, stop letting a handful of “thought leaders” from each political spectrum dictate policy stances, we will continue function from the poles. Fortunately we always have the government we deserve. Despite the rhetoric, I continue to believe we are better than we have acted in the last decade and we deserve a government that is better than we have now.

Slice

         This afternoon as I finished preparations for the work week, I spend significant time at the paper cutter. Reading the warnings about the danger of the sharp blade reminded me of the years through elementary school when we were expressly forbidden to use the paper cutter unless we had direct permission from the teacher. The ban and the warning seared the image of generations of school children missing fingers.

         That image continues to dominate my mind each time I go to the paper cutter. Using the paper cutter now, I realize they were very careless generations of school children missing fingers! Nevertheless, I focus the entire time I have that blade under my control.

         Just as I can remember the lyrics to almost every top-forty song in my high school and college years, the memory of the warnings of the dangers of paper cutters stuck with me across the years. Those memories bring both mirth and wonder: did I actually believe the teachers when they said I could chop my fingers off? Judging by where I place my hand in relation to the blade, yes, yes I do.

         Regardless of the quality of those 80’s lyrics (the best music EVER) or the honesty in my teacher’s warnings, those memories touch a deep part of my personal identity. Just as my footwear helps define me, the experiences of my childhood and youth also shape my identity. We are blessed to be more encyclopedia than periodical. No matter how we seek to shape the perceptions about us, our core being absorbs every aspect of our experience.

         We cannot control all the events around us, but we can control our response to them. Controlling the response does not mean we are not affected by the event, just that we adapt to it or we let it define us. As an adult, I know there are not generations of schoolchildren missing fingers from paper cutters, but I still keep my hand well-back from the blade while slicing through the stack of paper I have fed into the mechanism. Those years of warnings have built a healthy respect for things with sharp blades; they shaped me. I vigorously dice, chop, and shred while cooking; they did not define me. Experiences cannot be undone, but the can be managed.