hankyoreh

Gregory T. Kotonias, Clinical Assistant Professor of Psychiatry; Boston University

Visiting another country is not only an opportunity to broaden one’s perspectives, but also to acquire perspectives and insights about another culture, observations that can only come from not being a part of the host culture. As in most situations, being an intrinsic part of something paradoxically provides both depth of understanding, and blind spots, as well. Outsiders, however, are not prone to these blind spots of understanding.

But how do you share your observations with your hosts without sounding critical, condescending, or arrogant? When you come from a country with a 350-year-old cultural history, as I do, and visit a country with a 5,000-year-old cultural history, such as Korea, this challenge becomes more than delicate; it is a challenge almost comical. This is the nature of my challenge in sharing some observations from my recent month-long visit to Korea.

While my profession is medicine, I sometimes wonder if my passion isn’t really art. It isn’t hospitals, clinics, or medical school departments that I visit while traveling - it is museums, palaces, and galleries. As a typical American, I rarely possess much facility with the local language, and unless I am accompanied by a native speaker, I am very dependent upon the translations provided to me. And so I found myself once again walking the hallways of museums and art galleries and the grounds of ancient palaces, usually completely dependent upon whatever English translations were available.

Shortly after my arrival in Seoul, one of the first things I noticed was a surprisingly frequent lack of translations, followed by my noticing of frequent translation errors. However, I didn’t assign much importance to these initial observations. While I don’t see myself as an exceptionally experienced "world traveler," I have spent enough time in non-English-speaking countries that I am quite accustomed to everyday errors in translation during my travels.

Consequently, my first experiences with poor translations in Korea did not make a significant or special impression on me. The first times I recall being puzzled by the presence of translation errors were during visits to national museums and monuments, where I found many odd translations literally cast in stone, if not into bronze. These were not mistakes on a casually made sign or menu. These were significant and important statements, meant to be read frequently for a long time, perhaps decades or more. They were on large, important, and very aesthetically pleasing buildings and monuments, ones that were obviously built with a great deal of careful planning, thought, and money. I began to wonder why such important statements would be so poorly translated. The simultaneous desire to share the English translations and the careless translations seemed paradoxical.

Like the proverbial stone in the shoe, once I noticed these errors in translation or altogether omission of translation, they seemed ubiquitous. I spent a wonderful day at the beautiful Seoul Museum of Art, absorbed in the magnificent exhibition, The Great Century of Picasso. But I kept wondering, how could such a major exhibition, one which any city or museum would envy, be presented with no translations into English?

I tried to understand what it was about these errors and omissions that made me so simultaneously bemused and frustrated. It might have had to do with the fact that I am married to a highly respected and well-published Korean author and translator. But was annoyance also the result of an underlying Western arrogance? Do I unconsciously feel that everything really should be presented in excellent English anywhere and everywhere in the world? After much thought, I decided that the reasons were more complex and enigmatic than simply my arrogance, which unfortunately I realize I cannot completely disavow.

Further thought led me to the realization that I had come to Korea with the expectation of finding a very widespread and very high level of translation, certainly not frequent public displays of poor translation. I had developed these expectations for many reasons. First, and most important, I was keenly aware of Korea’s beautiful history of cultural emphasis on knowledge and scholasticism. In fact, I have never experienced another culture that embodies such a time-honored pursuit of knowledge, not the least of which is the study of language.

Secondly, South Korea is a very industrialized, technologically advanced and highly educated country. It is a major player in the global economy, and at the forefront of fashion in Asia. Yet, there seemed to be a provincial lack of internationalism with respect to translations, a discrepancy incongruent with South Korea’s position in the world.

The third reason why I had expected more accurate translations into English is its long history of exposure to English vis a vis the unfortunate and sad division of Korea. I don’t wish to be politically provocative, but the fact remains that there has been the presence of a large English-speaking army in Korea for more than 50 years.

Finally, my expectations were high because of my personal history with Korean friends, colleagues, and academics in the United States, most of whom write in perfect English.

Taking all of the above into account, I began to understand my puzzlement. I had come to a highly developed, sophisticated country, one with a long history of intellectual and linguistic excellence and direct exposure to English, expecting to find an above-average quality of translations, only to find the opposite.

It would be presumptuous and inappropriate for me to think that I can explain the reasons for this unexpected phenomenon. Any such explanations must come from the Korean people themselves. However, I do know that it is not the result of thoughtlessness or a lack of desire by Koreans to share information about their cultural treasures. I know this to be true because of the sincere and pervasive welcoming and generosity I experienced in my interactions with Koreans. Being ungenerous or unwelcoming simply isn’t part of the Korean character.

I am writing this because I have concerns about the hidden and possibly malignant effects of these "translation problems." My foremost concern is that it feeds and reinforces Western arrogance and condescending dismissiveness. Korea’s place in the world, geopolitically and culturally, is far too important to casually encourage any sense of dismissiveness by foreigners. I do not think that Korea - or any country, for that matter - should pander to the linguistic expectations of the English-speaking world. However, I respectfully suggest that it is in Korea’s interest to address this disconnect between its cultural and intellectual history and its lackadaisical postings of inferior translations. Correcting this problem would also be consistent with Korea’s well-deserved reputation of academic excellence.

Another concern is that poor-quality translations pertaining to the arts covertly diminish and discredit the arts and national treasures. It delivers the message that they are not worthy of the time and effort inherent in ensuring accurate and erudite translations.

Having said this, perhaps I can now turn my energy toward my own deficiency in not speaking Korean. Only then will I be able to properly thank Korea for treating me so warmly and generously during my recent visit.