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Anthony Pym 2000
(A talk presented to
the conference Research Models in Translation Studies, UMIST,
April 2000)
For too long our descriptive moment has avoided the fundamental
question of how one should translate. Translators,
teachers, students, critics and policymakers rightly expect
our research to have something to say on the matter. I wish
to propose that the goal of any translation project should
be to promote long-term cooperation between cultures.
Even before we delve into the nature of this cooperation,
the proposal is not without consequence as it stands. If
accepted, it could mean that decisions about how to translate
should depend on the actual communication partners, their
aims and interests, the corresponding kind of text, the
historical context, the pertinent opportunity costs, that
is, on the specific cooperative interaction involved at
the time. And if that much can be accepted, it could mean
that we can only know about how to translate by looking
at rather more than just translations. In other words, deontological
questions—the professional ethics—cannot really be answered
from within translation studies. So we should probably be
elsewhere.
Let us tread lightly before dispersing into the void. Let
us try to see what cooperation is in the first place.
Cooperation and its negation
Cooperation already finds a certain place in translation
theory, most fully in Justa Holz-Mänttäri’s theorization
of ‘translational action’. There we find the term defined
as "the intentional action of different operatives [i.e.
people] that is positively or negatively oriented in terms
of a superordinate goal" (1984:23-24, my translation). It
is what is supposed to happen when different people work
together to achieve a shared aim. Holz-Mänttäri
argues that, with the progressive division of social labour,
people become experts in different fields and thus increasingly
have to work with each other in order to achieve anything
substantial (41ff.). Translators thus become experts in
cross-cultural communication, cooperating with experts in
other fields in order to reach shared goals. Translating
is by nature a cooperative act.
As it stands, Holz-Mänttäri’s concept of cooperation
is unobjectionable. However, as with much of German-language
cultural functionalism, the approach rather too easily assumes
that people share the same or compatible goals; it takes
for granted that cooperation has to happen; it has little
to say about what translators should do when there is a
conflict of expertise or several competing conceptions of
how cooperation should work. Indeed, the only deontological
advice the theory could really offer a dilemma-bound translator
is ‘you are the expert, you decide’. Impeccably existential,
this is often not much help.
If we look for a more subtle understanding of cooperation,
we inevitably fall back on Grice’s cooperative principle
for conversation: "Make your conversation contribution such
as is required, at the stage at which it occurs, by the
accepted purpose or direction of the talk exchange in which
you are engaged" (1975:45). This is the general principle
that underlies Grice’s maxims of quantity ("Make your contribution
as informative as required"), quality ("Do not say what
you believe to be false"), relation ("Be relevant") and
manner ("Avoid obscurity", and so on). For Grice, if we
understand and respect the cooperative principle, the rest
should follow naturally enough. Compared with Holz-Mänttäri
(as far as comparison is possible), Grice at least has the
advantage of looking like an ethical statement (he uses
the imperative); he does not appear to be assuming a world
of discrete experts trained by experts; there is something
decidedly social going on here. Further, if conversation
partners mutually adopt the underlying cooperative principle,
any deviation from the four maxims will be recognized as
being of significance for the conversation: those deviations
will also be understood as functioning in the interests
of cooperation. It thus does not particularly matter whether
the maxims themselves are essentially British—as has been
claimed—, nor how often they might be violated in order
to achieve effect. There may be four maxims, or two, or
twenty: no real issue. It may not even be of much interest
that different cultures develop different maxims and degrees
of common application. The basic idea is that once the cooperative
principle is adopted, everything works in the interests
of cooperation.
So what is cooperation in itself? Grice is of remarkably
little help here. Much like Holz-Mänttäri, he
indicates that each of the conversation partners must recognize
"to some extent, a common purpose or set of purposes, or
at least a mutually accepted direction" (ibid.). But, to
what extent, exactly? How should the partners know the purpose
or purposes are really shared? What are the signs of mutual
acceptance? In short, at what point would we drift off into
non-cooperation?
The question is of some importance. After all, if we can
define the opposite of cooperation, we might have
a clearer idea of what the thing itself is. We might also
have more fun: it is merely angelic think about goodness,
more engaging to consider ways to be bad. Chesterman (1997:184-185),
finding inspiration in Popper, even suggests that such negativity
might have special interest for our ethics. Instead of seeking
equivalence, for example, translators should prevent misunderstanding
(or non-equivalence), since the latter is easier to locate
and to form a consensus around. In our terms, if we want
to think like Chesterman, the translator would then not
so much seek cooperation as try to eliminate the conditions
that promote non-cooperation. We would then merely have
to know what non-cooperation is.
Unfortunately, negative reasoning does not really get us
very far in the case of Holz-Mänttäri and Grice.
The closest Holz-Mänttäri comes to substantial
non-cooperation appears to be a lost rustic world where
everyone could do everything, so no cooperation between
experts was strictly necessary (1984:41). However, since
she calls that pristine situation "simple cooperation",
the move really brings us back to square one. As for Grice,
he merely states that "at each stage, some possible
conversational moves would be excluded as conversationally
unsuitable" (ibid.; italics in Grice). This tells us people
are at least aware of some kind of potential non-cooperation,
but the statement does little to say what that beast might
look like. Worse, the admission of exclusion offers us no
real way of distinguishing those particular conversational
moves from possible violations of the maxims which, in Grice’s
conception, are meaningful precisely in terms of cooperation.
Grice’s cooperative principle would thus appear to be so
strong that it cannot be violated; here we find no real
concept of non-cooperation. We must look elsewhere.
As is well known, Sperber and Wilson functionally replace
Gricean cooperation with the shared aim "to have the communicator’s
informative intention recognized by the audience" (1988:161).
They consider this aim to be wider and thus in some way
logically anterior to Gricean cooperation. For our purposes,
their shift is unhelpful in itself yet instructive in its
difference from Grice.
First, it is unhelpful because embedded in an unnecessary
dichotomy of communication models; it harps on a speaker’s
‘intention’ that is not necessarily available to anyone
or of immediate value to everyone; and more importantly,
it brings with it a series of individualist presuppositions,
proposing a psychologist’s world peopled by a subject bent
on accumulating information, increasing efficiency, and
improving their personal knowledge of the world (1988:47-49).
Granted, the communicative work of such a subject will very
probably build up the social stock of available information
and thus have some virtue attached to it. Yet relevance
theory cannot say why any such social aim should be desirable.
That is, since its subject is individual rather than social,
hypostatic rather than deontic, Sperber and Wilson’s approach
seems less than ideal for an ethics of cross-cultural communication.
The differences between relevance theory and Gricean cooperation
are nevertheless instructive. If we insist on looking for
some kind of social dimension, Sperber and Wilson’s subject
(strangely like that of Holz-Mänttäri et al.)
would seem firmly within the ‘buffaloes down by the lake’
theory of language: men using signs in order to hunt better.
The theory offers little space for language as gossip, for
exchange as the active creator of intentions, for the play
through which social relations are established and maintained,
over and above the accumulation of relevant information.
Grice’s vague form of cooperation, on the other hand, appears
to condone a view of language as a social past-time, as
a socially creative rather than informationally communicative
activity. We would want cooperation to include both sides
of that coin.
The second difference has to do with generality. Sperber
and Wilson might argue, for instance, that when a twenty-first
century anglophone reads Goethe, that receiver is looking
for intentions and operating in terms of relevance but is
no more cooperating with Goethe than Goethe was cooperating
with them at the time of his writing. Cooperation would
thus be restricted to the mutual presence of conversation;
it would not be a necessary principle of unidirectional
communication across time, space, languages and cultures.
This argument would seem to have some intuitive weight,
especially in an electronic age where conversation is unhappily
defined by mutual presence. But such concern about distance
need not concern translation as a communicative act. Many
things can go on between a reader reconstructing Goethean
intentions and a Goethe imagining a future reader, yet they
are all quite different from the interactions between a
translator, a client, an editor, a rate of pay, an image
of immediate reception, a distribution network, and the
intercultural space—the overlap of cultures—where all those
professional and commercial elements impinge on each other.
The space of translation, of the translator translating
as a communicative act, could have more to do with conversation
than with recuperating the thoughts of the dead (in this,
Holz-Mänttäri’s location of cooperation is quite
right). In principle, the sender and the receiver of the
translation are mutually present to the translator, as figured
forces if not in flesh and blood. It is between them—not
between distant authors and unforeseen readers—than the
notion of cooperation might yet make some sense.
This helps us to define our object of study: Rather than
comparing intentions or cultures, we are interested in what
happens in intercultural space. But we still have not progressed
far in our understanding of cooperation. For a more definite
proposal, we need another discipline.
Mutual benefits
Gricean cooperation, like the assumption of intentions,
is so general that its only negation can be a kind of silence:
without the cooperative principle, a conversation is no
longer a conversation. This is a very weak kind of negation.
Surely there are more robust forms of non-cooperation?
The model of the Prisoner’s Dilemma is neo-classical game
theory, much applied to decision making in economics and
negotiation theory. It allows that two prisoners can escape
if they cooperate with each other, as Gricean logic would
want it to be. But the game stipulates that if one player
chooses not to cooperate and instead reveals the other’s
plans (i.e. ‘defects’), that player will gain more than
would be the case if both cooperated. So in each particular
game, each player must choose between cooperation and defection,
with gains and risks being entailed in each option.
The abstract nature of the game is no doubt insulting to
most forms of cultural subjectivity. Yet it does give us
a very definite form of non-cooperation. If cooperation
is a professional aim, defection is definitely not a professionally
correct move: it would indeed fall foul of the minimalist
prohibition of ‘non-destruction of the other’. Yet it remains
a crude extreme. What would be the correlative of defection
in the case of translation? The revealing of professional
secrets, certainly; perhaps also the plagiarism by which
translators are sometimes wont to sign as authors. But beyond
those definite lapses, the idea of defection would seem
a little too blunt for the trickier parts of translatorial
deontology.
The Prisoner’s Dilemma is nevertheless of interest on other
counts.
First, it tells us why people should seek cooperation,
since there are benefits available that could not be obtained
without communicative interaction. Cooperative interactions
are where all parties win; non-cooperation is archetypically
a zero-sum game where if I win, you lose. The idea of mutual
benefits is no doubt implicit in all the above concepts
of cooperation (especially Holz-Mänttäri and Grice)
but is rarely spelt out as an aim in itself. Such mutual
benefits are nevertheless involved in all kinds of social
transactions, from a simple sale to the idle chat that mutually
kills the time waiting for a bus to arrive. Now we might
understand why someone might want to help improve someone
else’s understanding of the world.
Second, the Prisoner’s Dilemma can tell us something about
why social relationships are built. When the game
is played repeatedly, each player draws on information about
how the other player has acted in the past. This information
allows certain predictions to be made as to the other’s
future actions, predictions that may thus inform one’s decision
to cooperate or to defect. The more such information is
held, the greater the relationship of trust between
the two players and the more likely a cooperative outcome
to their interaction. Beyond the game scenario, trust-building
information may be seen as forming cultural blocks, conveyed
by markers of belonging to one social group or another.
The activity of gossip may then become the mutual search
for such markers, developing relationships of mutual reliance
and even friendship that may better ensure the success of
future acts of cooperation. The importance of general trust
should not be underestimated, particularly in the world
of e-commerce and the like, where many of our partners are
only seen through electronic representations. Indeed, in
computer modeling of games repeated over successive generations
(some 50 generations of 24,000 moves each), such trust is
shown to underlie the evolution of norms and eventually
cultures, which thus exist in order to enhance the likelihood
of cooperative outcomes (Axelrod 1997). To this extent,
a social subjectivity may incorporate and go beyond the
individualistic increasing of informative efficiency.
Third, since degrees of trust improve the likelihood of
cooperative outcomes, they are in turn enhanced by a restriction
in the number of players. We may, for example, predict the
moves of ten people we know fairly well but not a hundred
people we know only slightly. A decision not to enter into
the game, either by choosing silence or announcing an inclination
to defect, may actually assist the degree of cooperation
in the interactions that do take place. To the extent that
it reduces the number of players, a declaration of neutrality
or even of war may indeed be seen as benefiting the cause
of cooperation. In this, the game theoretic model takes
us much further than the pragmatics where silence was about
the only form of non-cooperation imaginable. Now we have
rather more robust forms of non-cooperation to contemplate.
How this concerns cross-cultural communication
There is little reason to believe that communication between
cultural frames is radically different from communication
in general; it need not require a special theory or an independent
discipline. However, the relative weakness of the cultural
norms shared by the participants must have certain effects
on the quality of the communication obtained.
It might be believed that participants from different cultures
are prone to greater misunderstanding because, all else
being equal, they have potentially greater ground for mutual
mistrust. That is, since the participants have relatively
little knowledge of how the other is likely to act, the
risk of non-cooperation is likely to be higher than is the
case of communication within the one culture.
Studies of cross-cultural communication do indeed show
that something like this happens. But they also show that
participants are aware of the higher risks involved. This
does not necessarily mean there is greater misunderstanding
of the actual information load. Cross-cultural production
instead tends to involve various degrees of specialized
compensation measures such as higher redundancy, explicitness,
and various further features of what is loosely known as
‘foreigner talk’ and ‘foreigner listening’. The reception
process may similarly compensate through increased back-channeling,
the discounting of unexpected breaches of maxims, and a
correspondingly more concentrated focus on the cooperative
aim involved. In short, repeated cross-cultural communication
between the same partners is likely to develop its own norms,
indeed its progressive interculture.
We all know of examples of misunderstandings because of
different cultural norms. Yet it is important not to be
misled by one-off cases. An example: An imaginary Australian
wants to buy a souvenir bota—that traditional Spanish
leather thing used for spilling wine all over untrained
shirts: he walks into a specialized shop full of botas,
sees one about the right size, asks the price and buys it.
Transaction completed: mutual benefits for both seller and
buyer. Yet the Australian’s Basque Spanish companion immediately
complains about the maxims. Apparently one cannot visit
a shop like that without allowing the salesman to expound
the various virtues of different botas, without expressing
admiration for the difficult production process, without
talking a little about where one is from, where one is going,
and whatever else springs to mind. To do otherwise is to
negate the social virtues of the transaction. The unelaborated
sale reduces the seller from expert artisan to mere merchant;
it reduces social life to money. And sure enough, looked
at in those terms, the potential mutual benefits could have
involved not just mercantile value but also the values of
human dignity, respect, and interest in the other.
Now, before you say who is right and who is wrong in this
kind of cross-cultural norm conflict, consider the following.
First, although the transaction has been presented as a
one-off event, the buyer was certainly not the first foreigner
to walk into that shop. The sellers of such items are accustomed
enough to the foreignness of foreigners: chinos,
we are called (among worse names), and little we can do
will surprise or shock. The intercultural tradition thus
places us deceptively beyond the norms of welcoming monoculture,
as if the presence of tourists and longer-term foreigners
were not absolutely essential to the Spanish economy. Second,
since the Basque-Spaniard’s complaint is part of the event,
through this and a series of similar situations the imaginary
Australian eventually understood some Spanish norms, learnt
about their human virtues, and finished up becoming a resident
in that country precisely because of the social values at
stake. That would then be a second intercultural position.
The repeat-play transaction, extended over a number of years,
would thus include mutual benefits well beyond the mere
cash value of an isolated bota or two. The resulting
interculture might yet teach more mercantile Europeans about
the values that make a life worth living.
Although those two kinds of mutual benefit are certainly
different in nature, they are both the object of invested
communicative effort and are thus not entirely incommensurable.
Our model should be able to include both. Cooperation constrains
the whole of social life, not just its economic part.
How this concerns translation
To say that cooperation is the aim of translation is not
to say that the translator is responsible for fixing or
defining that aim. There are buyers and sellers, teachers
and students, new ideas and ancient wisdom, all of which
are able to seek cooperation across cultural differences.
The translator is there to facilitate the search for cooperation,
not to negotiate on behalf of one or other of the parties.
Another example: The excellent film Patton at one
point portrays an American-Soviet celebration immediately
after the fall of Nazi Berlin. There is no communication
between the American and Soviet generals until, when the
Soviet proposes a toast, the American general instructs
his interpreter in something like the following terms: "Tell
the Commie bastard he’s a son of a bitch." The interpreter
understandably doubts that this is likely to improve international
cooperation: "I can’t tell him that, sir!" The general insists,
the interpreter interprets, and the Soviet’s relayed reply
comes back as: "He says [note the footing] you’re a son
of a bitch too." And then there is a toast.
The anecdote arouses several observations. First, the interpreter
is undoubtedly correct to take an active role and offer
his client some advice on the possible consequences of the
communication. Second, his decision ultimately to convey
the insult is justified by the extreme symmetry of the situation
at all levels, which was to become the Cold War regime that
maintained peace for some 40 years. Third, in manifesting
the mutual lack of interest in any long-term cooperation,
the exchange at least enabled the partners not to waste
efforts on further attempts; they could invest their energies
in relations with other partners. To that extent, at least,
it would be wrong to blame the interpreter for plunging
the world into prolonged confrontation. If we do want to
blame translators for such things—and there is a forlorn
tendency in translation studies to empower translators by
making them potentially responsible for everything—we really
need a wider discipline able to address the actions of military
generals as well.
When translators seek to facilitate cooperation, they can
work through linguistic representation (convey the insult),
metalinguistic elaboration (express doubts about the insult),
and several things in between (shuffle the footing). If
we take our extended bota-buying example, we might
imagine a translator representing a spoken price or two,
and then—why not?—excusing the buyer’s curtness, or giving
the foreigner advice about the norms of Spanish chat, or
even doing a bit of the talking that the foreigner is unwilling
to do. There is no real reason why we should restrict our
notion of translation here to the norms of NANS (no-addition-no-subtraction);
any kind of elaboration is legitimate if it avoids misunderstandings
that might block cooperation (note the negatives, straight
from Chesterman in Popperian key: this is not quite the
same thing as promoting any complete understanding). This
is not where our disciplinary problems lie.
The more subtle questions of cooperation really concern
not so much what is said or done in a translation,
but how much effort is put into saying or doing it.
We might suppose that the more we work on a translation,
the better it gets. A regime of perfectability might thus
bring us a constantly improved product, attaining correction
either as a representation or as metalinguistic elaboration,
here it does not really matter which. The problem, though,
is that not all kinds of cooperation are always worth our
best efforts. Or more formally, the effort invested in the
translation should logically not exceed the mutual benefits
to ensue from the transaction. If it does so—if we are investing
so much effort in the communication that it outweighs the
possible benefits to the partners—then all our hard work
is actually blocking cooperation rather than facilitating
it.
This means a translation may be non-cooperative not just
because of misrepresentation or inadequate elaboration,
but because of over-investment in the translation process.
It is sometimes a crime to work too little, but it can also
be criminal to work too much.
This is one major reason why attention to the details,
the stylistic niceties, the semantic innuendoes, tends to
be a pedagogical passion not readily transferable to professional
translation practices. Many details may indeed be left out
or rapidly glossed: for the purpose in hand, quite blatant
imperfection is often ‘good enough’. And when not, most
long-term participants in intercultural situations do learn
to compensate. Indeed, attention to detail is often more
important when the translator is open to checking processes
and must thus protect their own trustworthiness, in situations
where our intrusive scholarship rarely circumvents the Observer’s
Paradox. But that translatorial self-protection may risk
becoming counterproductive for cooperative outcomes.
The cooperation model perhaps has more to do with the effort
put into translation than with any other aspect. However,
thanks to this same reasoning, the model also suggests that
the translator’s moral allegiance need not be entirely to
one side or the other, not even if only one side is paying.
The argument ensues directly from the mutual nature of the
benefits of cooperation, since blockage on one side will
automatically mean a loss of benefits on the other. Yet
the same conclusion may also ensue from the translator’s
self-interest: the more mutual benefits are obtained, on
both sides, the more resources are available to reward the
translator and the greater the likelihood that future interactions
will further grace the translator with well-being. Beyond
that, of course, there is a certain humanist nobility in
the claim that cross-cultural cooperation is good in itself.
Yet it is not so good that it requires any magnanimous self-abnegation
on the part of any translator.
We thus reach a kind of ethics that has little to do with
absolute fidelity to texts (often too much work), which
cannot be reduced to mercenary loyalty to money (we must
think of both sides), and which recognizes the translator’s
personal interests (what is good for both sides is ultimately
good for us). More neatly, this would be an ethics of contextualized
human relations rather than a barrage of abstract universal
rules.
How this concerns non-translation
Our concept of translation must be wider than those concepts
based on representation alone. We have recognized not only
the legitimacy of non-NANS strategies, but also metalinguistic
elaboration as being part of the translator’s task. Yet
here it is important to resist the temptation to extend
our concept of translation to the point where all texts
are potential translations (since there is no absolute originality)
and there are thus no non-translations. Our argument on
this point is two-fold: first, translation is only one of
several possible strategies for solving multilingual communication
problems; second, translation must be separated from the
non-translation strategies in terms of the relative costs
involved.
When considered in these terms, translation is a relatively
expensive solution when pitted against the various alternatives
involving language-learning. It is ideally suited to initial
short-term contacts or situations where cooperation requires
texts with either legal status or norms that remain relatively
uncodified in intercultural terms. In many other situation—most
situations—long-term cross-cultural cooperation may probably
be better facilitated by language-learning policies.
How this concerns teaching
Applied to pedagogical practices, this view suggests that
there are serious shortcomings involved in the training
of specialists in text-reproduction practices. In particular,
more should be done to teach students how to assess whole
communicative situations and select strategies accordingly.
Such training would necessarily involve awareness of when
translation is necessary and when it should give way to
other practices. In short, our training programmes should
progressively be oriented to the production of intercultural
mediators, people who are able to do rather more than just
translate. Our research models should be oriented in terms
of that aim.
This is indeed what is happening in the commercialized
top end of the current labour market, in the world of the
‘intercultural management assistant’, the ‘language service
provider’, the ‘localizer’, or more benignly, the ‘multi-tasking
translator’. In domains such as information technology,
marketing and international consulting, translators are
regularly being called upon to do rather more—and often
less—than just translate. Cooperation requires as much.
How this concerns research
We started with a proposal about the ethics of translation.
The proposal has clearly become something more: it directly
impinges on the way we define the translation situation,
on the way we define translation itself, and on the way
we select an object of knowledge suited to the solving of
actual communication problems. Our fundamental position
on these latter questions is basically the one adopted by
José Lambert many years ago, in the first issue of
Target:
Translation is and has never been the only solution to
the problem of multilingualism. It seems impossible to
grasp the function of translations if that function is isolated
from the many other possible solutions, notably from non-translation
(1989: 223; my translation; italics in the text)
That is, our research should be free to investigate the
way cooperation is facilitated in all forms of cross-cultural
mediation. One might call that wider field something like
‘intercultural studies’. But the more important point is
that it should at the same time be limited in scope: our
questions do not strictly concern the comparing of territorial
cultures or separate language systems (since the translation
situation is intercultural); we are not in a position to
moralize to non-mediators; we have no reason to make assumptions
about all text production, the whole of linguistics, or
the ideal global configuration of cultures. Within those
limits, though, there is much to be done in the pursuit
of cross-cultural cooperation.
Translation history, for example, might study the way norms
evolve from the search for mutual benefits in intercultural
situations, through the interactions of competing social
groups rather than as a consequence of the systemic logic
of just one receiving or sending culture. Our quantitative
methods might usefully assess the capacity of low-cost translations
to attain sufficient understanding for the purposes of cooperative
interaction. That is, we should be taking more empirical
interest in that way translations are received and
in many cases compensated for through specialized receiving
strategies. Further, some kind of sociology should be tracing
the rapid evolutions of the translation market, locating
not just stunning factoids but also the social logic by
which the concept of translation itself is changing as its
very name is being replaced. Finally, someone with common
sense and good numbers will have to get down and work out
what the European Union is going to do when it has 20 or
so languages to work with. At the moment, given our current
professional commitments to translation and nothing but
translation—mirrored both in official European/Canadian
policy and our own research—, transaction costs within that
future Europe will be so high as to prohibit truly mutual
benefits. Beyond our various attachments to the regional
cultures in real need of defence, an ethics of cooperation
may yet help research contribute to a viable international
future.
References
Axelrod, Robert (1997) The Complexity of Cooperation.
Agent-Based Models of Competition and Collaboration,
Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press.
Chesterman, Andrew (1997) Memes of Translation. The
Spread of Ideas in Translation Theory, Amsterdam &
Philadelphia: John Benjamins.
Grice, H. Paul (1975) ‘Logic and Conversation’, in Peter
Cole and Jerry L. Morgan (eds) Syntax and Semantics 3:
Speech Acts, New York: Academic Press, 41-58.
Holz-Mänttäri, Justa (1984) Translatorisches
Handeln. Theorie und Methode, Helsinki: Academia Scientiarum
Fennica.
Lambert, José (1989) ‘La traduction, les langues
et la communication de masse. Les ambiguïtés
du discours international’, Target 1(2): 215-237.
Sperber, Dan & Deirdre Wilson (1988) Relevance.
Communication and Cognition, Cambridge MA: Harvard University
Press.
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- Last update
20 June 2000
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