An interview with Dr. Esmaeil Haddadian-Moghaddam
In translation studies, pseudotranslation is considered as translation without or with a weak connection to a corresponding source text. In his presentation on the 5th of april (https://www.universiteitleiden.nl/en/events/2022/04/leiden-translation-talk-5-april-pseudotranslation-and-reading-under-the-bombs-in-iran), Dr. Haddadian-Moghaddam focused on Zabihollah Mansuri (1897-1986), an Iranian translator, pseudotranslator, adapter and journalist whose practice illustrates the difficulty of delineating translation from non-translation. He argued that the study of Mansuri’s practice is necessary for a better understanding of the “rise of literal mind” in Iran.



Q: Could you tell us more about pseudotranlsation? How and when did your interest for this topic start?
A: Generally, we consider pseudotranslation as those texts which do not have a corresponding source text. So, if you have a translation and you want to look for the original, you may get frustrated because you find no source text or the translation departs significantly from the original. It is like doing detective work in the field of books.
When we talk about pseudotranslation in Iran, we need to talk about Mansuri: he was a translator, a pseudotranslator, an adapter and a journalist. In his work, loyalty to the source text seems to have been of secondary importance. He had a magical gift: to produce books that readers wanted to read, books that could reach thousands of people regardless of their education – there were doctors, pilots, engineers among his readers. Mansuri’s body of works proved extremely popular in the years following the Islamic Revolution of 1978 in Iran and the subsequent Iran-Iraq War, specially during the Iraqi’s missile attacks on major cities in Iran. They provided two kinds of escape: on the one hand, an escape from the strict ideological battel waged by the Islamic revolutionaries, and on the other hand, an escape from the horrors of Iraqi missiles. You needed something to forget it all.
That kind of power is missing in today’s Iran specially in light of the argument that literary language is in decline and the “literal mind” is on the rise. This is a significant argument put forward by Omid Azadibougar (2022) because it tries to explain how a hegemonic system maintains and blocks critical thinking by supporting a non-literal form of reading and thinking. Mansuri might have used a simple language but simple is not necessarily non-literary. To reach a literary regime of reading in Iran where questions about the status quo are asked, you need stepping stones. Mansuri was and remains one of those missing stone. This is a call for a kind of writing that can reach a broad range of readers, some of whom may wish to ultimately explore the ideal literary language.
Q: In last week’s talk, you mentioned the “lost and found” manuscript trope that was used for many pseudotranslations. Do you know other similar tropes that are linked with pseudotranslation?
A: In the western tradition of translation studies there are some known cases. If you read some of the literature on this topic, a couple of texts are often mentioned and in recent times I think new cases are introduced but apart from that there are not too many because there is no database.
Another problem is the problem of method: it’s a delicate and tricky job to delineate between pseudotranslation and translation. Rizzi (2008) is one of very few scholars who has proposed a method, but then not everything is clear there as I said in my presentation. How do writers, translators, pseudotranslators hide their identity behind the texts? Rambelli (2009) says that pseudotranslation is more common in times of social and cultural tensions. This is certainly the case with Mansuri whose practice is marked by significant political, social and cultural changes in modern Iran. That said, despite ongoing crises across the globe, the tendency to use pseudotranslation these days seem to be very little. The reason has to do with access to a huge amount of data; people are more educated, and writers and translators tend not to use this strategy anymore because they can be quickly exposed. For example, let’s look at the case of fan-subbing: these people immediately tell each other if they detect a problem somewhere; they discuss it in their forums, it’s really quick. But this wasn’t the case half a century ago; so,you were safe doing pseudotranslation. If we do more historical research, we come across more pseudotranslation cases, something that remains to be fully explored.
Q: Changing the subject, could you give us an introduction on your studies on the Franklin Book Programs?
A: The Franklin Book Programs was an American organization. Franklin itself was not a publisher but was assisting local publishers in the developing countries to publish mainly American books in translation. After the Second World War, there was a tension between the Soviet block and the American block, and each block wanted “to win the hearts and minds” of the people around the world. These superpowers were clashing not in the real battlefield, but in the battlefield of ideas. In the absence of the internet in the 50s, 60s and 70s, things like books and magazines were powerful alternative tools: they were readily available and were comparatively cheaper than other kinds of media.
While the American Marshall Plan aimed to rebuild western countries and their economy, a similar plan was beginning to take shape in the general field of culture. In the category of Cold War book programs, we can refer to the Franklin Book Programs: it was established in New York in 1952, and in 1953 they opened the first office in Cairo, Egypt. They would recommend titles to the local offices, which were staffed by the locals. They would then set to translate and publish these books by the local publishers. There were no Americans working there, they acted as advisers. Gradually Franklin started to expand, first in the Middle East: in 1954 they opened an office in Teheran, then Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iraq, and later they went to South East Asia, and Latin America. They published about a thousand books in Arabic and nine hundred in Persian. They didn’t only publish novels or children’s books, but also textbooks, and the textbook industry in these countries was a powerful tool because the dominant discourse of development was tied with literacy. In order to develop, you needed more literates, and in order to have more literates, you needed more books. The program filled a gap.
But Franklin had their opponents: mainly the lefties and those influenced by the communist ideology, especially in the Middle East, where it was quite strong. There was a constant clash between the Franklin supporters and its opponents. Franklin closed down in 1978 after 25 years of activity and it left behind about three thousand titles in several languages. Something of Franklin is left in Cairo: they changed the form of the publishing house and it became an association which is still there. Also, the legacy they left in Teheran is very strong. It is an interesting case of cultural diplomacy, in the sense of how governments use culture to win people over; how books as materials objects can be used for certain political aims. Many people look at Franklin from the perspective of propaganda: I am against this view: you can start from propaganda but then you need to move on. I don’t look at the Franklin case as a black and white case; I like to look at the impact it left, not just in the publishing field in these countries but also on a generation of translators and publishers who were trained and had access to first class technology of the time, mostly unknown in those countries. Thanks to foreign funds and the income generated from their operations they managed to improve the condition of publishing in these countries. One way of illustrating this point in my work is to explore and better understand how the money and knowledge were used by the locals, and how they exercised their agency. In other words, they had the power to localize a foreign product for the use of their own people. This is far more interesting to explore than to write off Franklin as a purely propaganda enterprise.
Q: The last question we wanted to ask you is why and when did you get the idea of a Journal of World Literature and why is it important to consider literature from this perspective?
A: This goes back to 2013-14. My friend and colleague Omid Azadibougar and I were two years into our post PhD period, and we had a lot of ideas. One was to start a journal about Persian literature and translation, since we were both interested in translation as an academic field. We had of course the Iranian Studies journal and similar journals but their approach was mainly from an area studies perspective and they were not addressing modern Persian literature let alone translation. During a conference at University of St. Andrew University, I proposed the idea to Brill. The initial idea was further discussed with a number of younger and more established scholars and we gradually realized that there were similar cases to Persian literature, all in need of attention. The shift from Persian literature to world literature was by itself an interesting development. We were lucky to have contact and guidance from David Damrosch, Theo D’haen, and Zhang Longxi and others who supported the idea and make it happen.
It took about two years until we managed to get the structure of the journal ready. In the last couple of years, we have managed to cover some examples of less known literature such Romanian, Scandinavian and African literature. We are now in the 7th year, and I just got the latest issue which is about the pandemic and how it has affected the way we respond to literature.
Seven years of work behind the scenes of a journal takes a lot of energy and work. Still, I find the concept of world literature challenging to define: what is exactly world literature? Is it just the canons, the established works? Or is it all the translated books? Is it an exploration of less known works that deserve to be introduced into major languages? And what does reading world literature mean when everything is one click away and how should we interact with it? How should we read the classics? To be honest, my personal impression is that the definition is becoming more and more difficult to grasp, and that is what keeps the journal interesting.
Interview and blog by: Elisa, Elsa, Maria Vittoria, Annalisa and Martina
References
Azadibougar, O. 2022. “The decline of literary reading and the rise of the literal mind.” In Book Love, ed. María Angélica Thumala Olave, New York: Palgrave-Macmillan, 2022 (forthcoming).
Rambelli, A. 2009. “Pseudotranslation.” In Routledge Encyclopedia of Translation Studies, eds. M. Baker and G. Saldanha, 208-211. Rizzi, A. 2008. “When a text is both a pseudotranslation and a translation: The enlightening case of Matteo Maria Boiardo (1441-1494),” In Beyond Descriptive Translation Studies: Investigations in Homage to Gideon Toury, eds. M. Shlesinger, et al. Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 153-162.