Gideon Toury
Tel Aviv University (Israel)
Translation as a Means of
Planning
and the Planning of Translation:
A Theoretical Framework and an
Exemplary Case*
The last decade has been marked
by the foregrounding of cultural concerns in the sciences of man. This has
led to substantial changes in the way phenomena in the world of our
experience are approached, which students of translation were among the first
to applaud - and adopt. At the same time, it is not as if everything that has
to do with culture has been brought to bear on the study of translation. One
central notion which is sorely missing is that of planning.
Planning has always been a major
force in culture and its dynamics. By contrast, it has remained peripheral in
scholarly approaches to culture in general, and individual sectors thereof in
particular. One glaring exception is language, where planning has gained some
currency as an object of study back in the 1970s. Unfortunately, though,
instead of developing into a lot more than just Language Planning, which it
could easily have done, the ensuing field of study dwindled into considerably
less than even that: research very soon limited itself to codification again,
i.e. mere corpus planning, to the neglect of status planning (or so-called
language policy) and planning for planning's sake (for these notions see e.g.
Karam 1974: 112ff.; Cooper 1989: Chapters 5-7).
It is my contention that we will
soon be witnessing renewed interest in planning within a broader frame of
reference. When this happens, there is no way Translation Studies can remain
out of bounds: thinking in terms of planning is bound to affect the very way
translating and translation(s) will be tackled and the kind of descriptions
and explanations that will be deemed admissible. On the other hand,
culturally-oriented conceptions oftranslation would surely not fail to serve
as an example for the entire move. After all, it cannot be contested that,
being norm- governed by its very nature, translation is as much a means of
effecting planning as it is a paradigmatic case thereof. Rather than
being involved in the planning of other domains alone, it is also amenable to
planning in and for itself; from the very decision to translate and going all
the way through to the establishment of individual linguistic replacements,
whether they are taken from among the existing options of the target language
or created anew, and hence the establishment of that which would be regarded
as the appropriate relationships between individual replacements and their
counterparts in the corresponding source text.
Which is by no means the case
now. Rather, in today's scholarly discussions of planning, to the extent that
they are being held at all, translation is assigned very little room. One
need only go over periodicals such as Language Problems and Language
Planning to become aware of the almost total non-existence of translation
as a topic, or over leading periodicals in Translation Studies to see that
the socio-cultural notion of planning (in contradistinction to cognitive
planning, which is assumed to take place in one's brain as one is engaging in
translation) is hardly ever present.
True, when it comes to individual
cases, accounts can hardly do without mentioning recourse to translating, at
least as a means of accumulating texts in a relatively cost-effective way.
The role actually played by individual translations, or the translations of
particular texts, in the evolution of a particular culture is also mentioned
occasionally. Finally, practical recommendations for planners too, in
individual communities and with respect to individual languages, often allude
to the use of translation. However, this is precisely where translation is
normally left off: a mere mention, a recommendation `to consider the
possibility' - or, at most, a demonstration of potentials. As far as I know,
translation has never been regarded in any systematic way as the planning
activity it can be, and often has been.
The objective of the present
paper is rather modest. My intention is to try and pave the way for an area
of intersection between the interests of Translation Studies and Planning
Studies. This will be done in two consecutive, and complementary steps.
First, the field itself will be delineated in rather broad terms, from the
notion of planning towards that of translation (Section 2) and back again (Section
3). Then, an exemplary case will be presented in some detail. The story will
be narrated in such a way that it will constitute a demonstration of the
workings of as many of the factors presented in the theoretical unfolding as
possible. Narration will be cut in two. The first part (Section 4) will
sketch the position of translation in the overall planning of a new cultural
paradigm, whereas the other one (Section 5) will address the planning of
translation itself as a carrier of change, under those circumstances.
2
CULTURE is here regarded through
the prism of its being a structured repertoire of options which organizes
social interaction and lends each move the significance it has in
and for the group that entertains that culture. The notion of REPERTOIRE is
most profitably perceived as the sum total of (limited) ways in which people
in a given culture make use of pre-organized options (i.e. models), given
their particular cultural field and their positions within it (Sheffy 1997;
Even-Zohar 1997a, b, c). word The OPTIONS also implies that, at any given
situation, CHOICES have to be made, which are, moreover, strongly
constrained. Membership in a collective entity andparticipation in its
culture thus involve not only acquisition of the repertoire as such, but
knowledge as well of the appropriateness/inappropriateness of whatever
options are included in it under different circumstances.
If this is what culture and
cultural behavior are taken to be, then PLANNING would consist in any act of
(more or less deliberate) intervention in a current state of affairs
within a social group, i.e. making decisions for others to follow;
whether the impetus for intervening originates within the group itself or
outside of it.
In newly established cultures,
planning may be equated with transforming lists (i.e. inventories) of
alternative modes of behavior into structured systems of codified options
(i.e. repertoires). In institutionalized cultures, where repertoires already
exist, planning would basically amount to an attempt to introduce new
options, and/or get rid of old ones, and by so doing effecting CHANGES in an
extant set. It would also involve ways of making the interfered-with
repertoire accessible to the culture so that it can be put to actual use.
Attempts to prevent changes which others are trying to introduce also fall
under planning, whether they succeed or fail. Either way, the ensuing
struggle will have become a fact of the culture in question, thus effecting
some change in it.
In each group, there is a small
minority who act as producers on the level of the repertoire itself.
Whether entrusted by the group with the task of doing so or whether
self-appointed, it is mainly those persons who introduce new options, and
hence act as AGENTS OF CHANGE. All the rest tend to be mere consumers of the
repertoire: they are producers on the level of texts alone. Thus, even if
their behavior seems unique (and every instance of behavior does have a
certain uniqueness to it), on the repertoremic level it would be a realization
of the existing options, which therefore perpetuates the repertoire and
stabilizes the culture defined by it.
To the extent that it wishes to
have success and cause some change of behavior among the `silent majority', planning
is in need of a power base. In fact, very often it is performed for the
very sake of attaining power rather than as a bona fide attempt to
introduce `desirable' changes. Consequently, planning is often intimately
connected with struggles for domination, as is every attempt to
prevent it, stop it, or change its course. It is DISGUISE TECHNIQUES which
often act as safeguards from losing such a struggle, especially when power
has not yet bwon (and see Shavit's 1989 grand hypothesis concerning the
entrance of a new model into a cultural system): risk seems smaller when the
claim is made that there actually is very little new about what is being
advocated, and especially when such a claim can be backed up by (necessarily
selective, often so much as distorted) evidence. By contrast, when initial
planning proved successful and some power has been achieved, further planning
seems to become much smoother. It may also become freer of considerations
other than the set goal itself and the ways to attain it.
Planning needn't be done in one sweeping
move, applied to all issues and cultural sectors at once. It can very well be
realized in smaller-scale activities, performed in particular sectors and/or
with respect to more or less defined issues. The fullest move imaginable
would of course involve the invention of a culture, or cultural sector.
While theoretically possible, this is normally interesting as a mental
exercise only. Thus, even so- called `invented languages' are not really
total innovations. More significantly, those invented languages that manage
to achieve a measure of success are bound to have relied rather heavily on
existing repertoires (albeit existing elsewhere, of course), even if
false arguments are used again in an attempt to lead the consumers astray.
This way, it is also easier to establish a groupthat would adopt the
`invented' system as its language. (Compare the case of Esperanto with almost
any other `artificial' language throughout history!)
Nor need planning be fully
linear; first setting goals, then devising methods for reaching them, and
finally applying those methods in actual behavior. In fact, to the extent
that planners wish to achieve more than momentary success and keep being in
power, their activity will probably be spiral, involving constant
reassessments; not only of the implementation but of the very methods,
even the goals themselves. Thus, success in culture planning is often a
result of certain flexibility whereas rigidity may well lead to failure.
Finally, it is not at all
necessary that every step in planning be made in full consciousness, let
alone leave visible traces in the form of records. Of course, the existence
of written documents, especially if they reflect decisions made in a (more or
less) official setup, renders the application of the term `planning' less
controversial: the intervention itself would have been made transparent that
way, even if it was not really all that drastic. Thus, I am all in favor of
some lenience in the application of the notion of `planning' within Cultural
Studies. I believe it is germane as long as it is useful in helping us to
understand (and hence to explain) cultural processes and their products.
Once any intervention with a
cultural repertoire is regarded as a possible act of planning, translation
emerges as a candidate par excellence for (re)viewing in these terms.
Most important of all, translation activities not only can, but very often do
cause noticeable changes in current states of cultural affairs, up to the
repertoires themselves. Many of these changes are clearly not involuntary
either. After all, the act of translation is purposeful in its very nature, a
teleological activity where success (or failure) are key notions; success and
failure in terms of the requirements of the recipient culture, that
is, which is precisely where planning may be said to actually take place.
3
Cultures resort to translating as
one possible way of filling in gaps in them. On whatever level. A void
in a cultural sector may of course be more or less noticeable to the people-in-the-culture,
nor is the only way of filling a void which has been noticed to turn
to translation: a gap can also be filled with an alien, untranslated entity,
especially in a multilingual group. A non-translational entity can also be
produced, namely within the possibilities of the culture itself, and,
finally, the gap can be left open, at least for the time being. The decision
to turn to translation is not individual either. Rather, it is always
norm-governed, designed to fulfill certain needs of the recipient culture.
The same holds for the way this decision is realized, and hence the make-up
of the end-products along with the relations that would tie them up with
their counterparts in the source culture and language.
In the simplest of cases, both
deficiency and fill-in seem to consist in mere textual entities, each
one of which is of course unique; it may be more or less in tune with
prevailing norms and models, but in itself it is a novelty. Now, a wish to
introduce a text into a culture by way of translation, including the possible
resolution to retranslate (rather than reprint an existing translation,
submit it to revision, or simply forget all about it), always involves a
series of (interconnected) decisions; and since it always entails some change
of the receiving culture, those can justifiedly be taken to constitute
planning activities.The more so if and when possible implications of the
introduction of the text in question into the receiving culture the way it is
going to be introduced are taken heed of, thus influencing decision-making
itself.
In more complex cases, not only
individual texts may be introduced into a culture, but hitherto non-existing models
too, i.e. pre-organized options which can be used as instructions for future
production; be they text-types, or models for the representation of reality,
or for linking episodes in a story, even modes of language use. This is of
course a much more radical, repertoremic sense of placing new options at the
disposal of a culture, which is normally brought about by groups of texts
rather than single instances of linguistic performance; either a number of
texts which embody a recurring pattern carried over from a particular source
culture or texts which have undergone similar treatment within the receiving
culture itself, independently of the features their counterparts may have had
in the contributing culture(s).
Of course, changes in the
receiving culture beyond the mere presence of a text which hasn't been there
before do not necessarily represent a production mishap. Rather, change is
in the very nature of translation as a mode of cultural behavior, which
planners have always been aware of. Thus, while translation events are (at
least semiotically speaking) initiated by the prospective target culture and
intended to cater for its needs, they are often designed to deviate from
sanctioned patterns. A certain portion of these deviations can be
associated with the felt need to retain invariant at least some features of
the immediate source text, which has always been part of the very concept of
translation, but there may well be other reasons.
Be the reasons for deviation from
target-culture conventionalized patterns as they may, the obvious result is
that it is not unusual for a translation to be quite distinct from non-
translational entities and even advertise its foreignness, including the
deviations (or potential novelties) themselves. Moreover, in many cultures,
tolerance of anomalies has been greater in acts and products assumed to be
translational than in non- translational behavior. Which lends initial legitimization
to the introduction of novelties by means of translation. In fact, very
often, an amount of deviance from target-normality in `assumed translations'
(Toury 1995: 31-35; 1995a) is considered not only acceptable, or even
justifiable, but actually preferable to complete conformity to models
pertaining to the domestic repertoire. Which opens a wide door for
repertoremic changes.
The fact that deviations from
sanctioned patterns occur and can be noticed by the people-in-the-culture,
who may even like it that way, breeds an inherent possibility of manipulating
those reactions; for instance, by producing deviations at will. This would
bring translational activities even closer to our notion of planning. A
striking example of manipulation is so-called fictitious translations;
original texts which utilize features, associated (within the culture in qu)
with translations and presented - and often accepted - as products of
genuine, text-induced acts of translation (Toury 1995: Excursus A). Indeed,
there is hardly a case where the decision to pseudo- translate, and the way
it was carried out, cannot be accounted for in terms of a more or less
deliberate attempt to introduce new options into a culture while neutralizing
many of the objections that might have arisen, had the same novelties been
offered in a straightforward, non-disguised fashion. In many cases, attempts
to disguise novelties as translational importations have proved highly
successful too.
Let us move to our historical
story now and trace the manifestations of the notions presented in the
previous two sections in an actual instance of socio-cultural behavior.
4
Some two and a half centuries
ago, in Prussia of the 1750s, Jews set out to modernize their culture,
adopting certain middle-European trends as their models. This move was all
but acontinuation of previous practices; not even with minor concessions to
changing times. In actual fact, it was highly subversive; nor were its
proponents unaware of its inherent subversiveness.
Thus, the element of change in
this move was far from spontaneous: the current situation was pinpointed, a
goal was set towards which work was to be directed, and ways of gradually
attaining that goal were devised. While doing all that, pains were also taken
to make the move seem much less revolutionary than it potentially was,
so as not to enrage the traditional leadership, on the one hand, and not to
estrange the masses, on the other. A struggle for domination was imminent,
and any alternative to the existing paradigm would have had to use tactics of
disguise, if it was ever to win the struggle.
At the beginning of this period
of Haskalah (or Jewish Enlightenment), planning was in the hands of a
rather limited, and easy to identify number of persons who formed a handful
of small groups. To be sure, no one entrusted these persons and groups with
the task of planning anything. Rather, they acted as self-appointed agents
of change. And even though their modus operandi never fully
coincided with that of nominated, or elected bodies, they did hold occasional
meetings where decisions were made. They produced written documents too,
including manifestos, which make it possible to trace reassessments too, even
full-scale revisions of the initial program. They also entered into
conflicts, including open debates with others; not only the traditional
leadership of the Jewish community, but rivaling self- appointed groups as
well that had slightly different goals, or at least advocated different
methods of achieving them. Of course, these conflicts should have been made
an important part of the story, but I will focus on those groups to which
history has given the upper hand.
The decisions made by the
self-appointed institutions of the Haskalah referred to various
levels. Some of them concerned the kind of cultural paradigm most suitable
for attaining the goal of modernization `mid-European style' - individual
constituents as well as overall structure; corpus planning, if you wish, far
beyond the linguistic code. Others concerned the ways this paradigm, and
especially the new options it contained, would be propagated and
disseminated; ideally - to the entire community, which is one thing they
never did.
One important decision concerned the
language(s) to be used for the written sectors of the new culture. The
action to be taken here was far from obvious, nor would any decision have
been all that easy to market, given the multi- lingual and multi-territorial
nature of Jewish existence in the European parts of the Diaspora where,
moreover, occasional changes had occurred. As to Hebrew, the only language
Jews allegedly had in common, (a) it was not really all that common, and (b)
it had largely been reserved for ritual purposes, i.e. precisely those
cultural aspects the proponents of the Haskalah were trying to break
away from.
Anyway, the initial decision -
one that would soon be revised - was rather vague. To complicate matters
still, it was made in terms which were only partly positive. Thus, the use of
either Hebrew or German was recommended, sometimes even both Hebrew and
German; to be used not only by the same persons in different circumstances,
but also side by side, in one publication, even on the same page, sometimes
claiming to be so much as parallel versions of `one' text. By contrast, the
use of Yiddish was banned - the Jewish language which might have made the
easiest way out in the area where the Haskalah was born, had it not
been tainted by its long-time association with cultural behavior now marked
negative.
Other decisions concerned the text-types
that were to be either fostered or suppressed; centralized or
marginalized. In spite of the adoption of European, and especiallyGerman
practices as models, here too, decisions were all but automatic. At the same
time, they often represented extensions of decisions already made within the
culture-in-planning itself as it was gradually evolving. For instance, the
decision to start out with periodical publications - and rather small ones,
at that - made it practically mandatory to make almost exclusive use of texts
which were inherently (i.e. not accidentally) brief. This was one of several
reasons why fables were given high preference in the first generations of the
Haskalah literature, why epic poetry was relatively rare, and why
drama was so slow to appear. Another reason was connected with the disguise
mechanisms mentioned abovr: it was relatively easy to pretend there was very
little new, and hence dangerous here, since older paradigms of the Jewish
culture, in the Hebrew language as well, also included fables; in fact, all
the way back to the Bible, to which we will soon return.
Once the question of text-types
arose, there was no escape from dealing with a concomitant question; namely, where
individual texts pertaining to the types to be fostered would come from.
After all, there is no real existence to a model unless it is implemented in
acts of socially-relevant behavior and embodied in their results. This
question was of course most crucial with respect to the intended culture in
the Hebrew language, where many of those text-types had had no previous
realizations; a noticed gap which strengthens our claim that there was
nothing `spontaneous' here. At any rate, the proponents of the Hebrew Haskalah,
including most of the self-appointed planners, saw it as their privilege and
duty to personally take part in the creation of the culture by producing
texts themselves, rather than leaving the implementation of general decisions
to chance, or to other persons. However, none of them had any idea how such
texts were to be composed in the Hebrew language.
The decision to solve many of the
problems in this respect by recourse to translation should come as no
surprise. Not only was here an elegant possibility of trying out one's hands
and tools towards the establishment of textual models which did not yet
exist, but translation also offered a rational use of time and other
resources (as it is normally easier, quicker and cheaper to translate than
compose an original text), as well as a prospect of capitalizing on the
status texts (or even the traditions underlying them) have had in other
cultures, especially if that status was a prestigious one.
5
What we are finally getting to is
the need to look more closely at translation itself in terms of planning.
Because decisions also had to be made as to the preferability of certain
source cultures and languages, the choice of texts which would be submitted
to translation, and, finally, the strategies themselves which would be
applied to the alien texts in order to generate the envisaged Hebrew texts;
in general (that is, as an overall conception of `translation') as well as
for particular text-types and individual texts.
Needless to say, the more we go
down the ladder of generality, the scantier the documentation gets. Thus, it
is much easier to explain the decision to translate fables, even Germfables,
than the decision to translate fables by Christian Fürchtegott Gellert, of all
German writers, let alone particular texts of his (see Toury 1993); and
accounting for the way any of these fables was actually tackled
translationally is more complex still. The more so as, in the period under
observation, very few translators cared to comment on their work, except for
general introductions to translated books (see Cohen 1998), and critical
reactions were hardly produced at all. If one wishes to get to the bottom of
these decisions nonetheless, the only feasible way is to study their results,
i.e. the translations themselves - on the assumption that they are
indeedtranslations. The underlying assumption here, which is not devoid of
problems, is that recurrent patterns on the surface level - especially the
make-up of the texts and/or the relationships obtaining between pairs of
translation + source textual items - reflect much deeper regularities which
may be attributed to norm- governed behavior. (See now Toury in press a.)
Having mentioned documentation,
there is absolutely no need that a translation will always be presented
and/or accepted as one. Planning institutions and individuals may on occasion
prefer to generate texts by translation - and then present them as
non-translated entities (or sometimes the other way around). By the same
token, they may decide to present as translations texts which have no
counterparts in another culture and language. That is to say, within a
cultural consciousness, the borderlines between translations and originals
may well be blurred even if the activities themselves are differentiated.
Precisely that was the case at the beginning of the Haskalah period.
To be sure, there is absolutely
no need that translation in the past was performed the way it is performed
today; and not because past translators were evolutionary inferior, or failed
to realize the `true nature' of translation (which does not exist, of
course). It is that translation itself is not only changeable (in principle);
it actually undergoes constant changes (in practice). Consequently, it is not
always easy to identify old translations as such, especially if their very
identity as translations was concealed; e.g., as part of the blurring of the
borderlines between translations and non-translations. In our case, it is
often quite problematic to answer the question why, of several texts that
came into being using the exact same strategies, some were then presented
and/or regarded as translations while others were not. There were no doubt
more decisions involved here, made in an attempt to achieve certain goals,
but what exactly they were remains to be studied.
Back to the story, using as a
case-in-point the first periodical of Hebrew (pre-) Enlightenment, Kohelet
Mussar (literally, `Preacher of Morals') and the position of translation
within it.
Of the two issues of Kohelet
Mussar, which managed to see the light of day, a whole one eighth was
devoted to a gradual unfolding of the bold argument that, whereas `words of
wisdom' were indeed untranslatable into Hebrew, that language could hardly be
rivaled when it came to literary translation. By harping relentlessly
on the ability of the (re)new(ed) language to do precisely that which held so
many difficulties in store, the planners succeeded in creating a favorable
climate, which is so vital for any planning project. They realized that there
was a need to first enhance the status of Hebrew as a vehicle for
translations before codification and dissemination could start.
This solution, which would
justifiedly be characterized as ideological, was supplemented by another,
very congruous move of far-reaching consequences: positing linguistic
acceptability as a major constraint on translation, to the almost
complete forfeiture of so-called `translation adequacy'. This move
contributed enormously to mitigating the problematics of translation into
Hebrew; not of course in any `objective' terms, but in the culture's own
view. The threshold was simply lowered, if you wish. The planners also
decided - not with no objections, to be sure - that the main yardstick for
acceptability would be the Hebrew Bible, which had ceased to serve as a model
for verbal behavior centuries before. An obsolete option was thus revived -
among other things, on the basis of the centrality it enjoyed in dominant
portions of the enveloping German culture - introduced into the very center
of the new cultural paradigm, and given new functions, all through deliberate
intervention involving a serious breach of dominant practices.
As a result of this series of
decisions, Hebrewtranslation during the early Haskalah, which was
indeed basically literary, was a blend of primary activities on the generic,
thematic and compositional planes, where innovations were not only allowed to
penetrate into the heart of the system but actually sought, and secondary
activities on the linguistic plane, which was therefore highly resistant to
foreign interference. Thus, whatever instances of linguistic interference
there were - and there is always interference involved in translation - they
were basically involuntary, in marked contradistinction to
interference on other levels.
A few words to that effect were
said by the editors of Kohelet Mussar themselves, in an article about
translation which preceded all attempts to actually do translation. However,
most of the convincing was left to a sample translation which was performed
along those lines, for anyone to check; both aspects, if so wished:
linguistic make-up - against the Bible; conformation to foreign models -
against a text in another language which could be taken as its source.
Only the alien text which should
have been called up was not an original at all: What the reader was actually
presented with was a Hebrew translation of a German version of an English
text, Edward Young's The Complaint, or Night Thoughts on Life, Death and
Immortality. This was of course no accident, but the result of another
conscious decision; a decision which was in perfect line with the whole
planning project we have been tracing. It was not even the case that the
translator couldn't read English, or that the original was unavailable in
Prussia. It is simply that in those years, a particular translation of
Young's work, done by Johann Arnold Ebert, was situated at the very center of
the German culture, which is precisely where models and texts were so
eagerly sought. In addition, to the extent that the reader was seriously
invited to compare the Hebrew text to its `source', only a text in German
could have served that purpose anyway; and even it - for a negligible
minority. However, this minority included many of the planners themselves,
who were in fact the first to need persuasion as to the potentials of
quasi-biblical Hebrew for modern literary translation, and through it - for a
substantial part of the envisaged new culture. To be sure, the fact that the
translation was mediated was never made explicit, but nobody could care any
less anyway, given the period's norms. (For closer analysis of the
translational decisions themselves see Toury 1998.)
6
Does all this amount to a plea
for taking translation into consideration in acts of cultural planning? By no
means. Not more than arguing that translation is often characterized by
interference is a plea for embedding as many instances of interference as
possible in future translations. By the same token, this was not a plea for
more conscious planning of translation in the future either; neither in
general nor in any culture in particular. Real-world behavior may of course
take theoretical considerations as one of its points of departure. It may
also try and learn a lesson from descriptive studies. However, theoretical
and descriptive studies are not carried out for the sake of being applied and
should not be taken to determine application in any way. The present paper
was offered as a purely scholarly contribution. What planners will or will
not do with it is up to them. As becomes all planning activities, theirs will
also be the responsibility for ttransition from theory to application, as
well as any success (or failure) thereof.
Note
* This is a shortened version ofa
paper read at the International Conference "Translations: (Re)shaping of
Literature and Culture", Bogaziçi University, Istanbul (1997). In the
time that has elapsed since that Conference, I have reworked my line of argumentation,
which is here presented in an abbreviated form. An expanded version of the
theoretical portions will soon be published (Toury in press b).
References
Cohen,
Michal. 1998. Objectives and Trends in the Writing of Forewords to Hebrew
Translations from the Enlightenment Period. Tel Aviv University. [Hebrew.
Unpublished MA Thesis]
Cooper,
Robert L. 1989. Language Planning and Social Change. Cambridge etc.:
Cambridge University Press.
Even-Zohar,
Itamar. 1997a. "Factors and Dependencies in Culture: A Revised Draft for
Polysystem Culture Research", in Canadian Review of Comparative
Literature 24:1. 15-34.
Even-Zohar,
Itamar. 1997b. "Culture Planning and Cultural Resistance", in
http://www.tau.ac.il/~itamarez/papers/plan_res.html
Even-Zohar,
Itamar, 1997c. "The Making of Culture Repertoire and the Role of
Transfer", in Target 9:2. 355-363.
Karam,
Francis X. 1974. "Toward a Definition of Language Planning", in
Joshua A. Fishman. ed. Advances in Language Planning. The Hague-Paris:
Mouton, 1974. 103-124.
Shavit,
Zohar. 1989. "The Entrance of a New Model into the System: The Law of
Transformation", in: Karl Eimermacher, Peter Grzybek and Georg Witte,
eds. Issues in Slavic Literary and Cultural Theory. Bochum: Brockmeyer,
1989. 593-600.
Sheffy,
Rakefet. 1997. "Models and habituses: Problems in the idea of cultural
repertoires", in Canadian Review of Comparative Literature 24/1.
35-47.
Toury,
Gideon. 1993. "An Enlightened Use of Fable: Christian Fürchtegott Gellert
in Hebrew Literature", in Ziva Shamir and Avner Holzman, eds. Turning
Points in Hebrew Literature and Their Relationship to Contacts with other
Literatures. Tel Aviv University, 1993, 75-86. [Hebrew]
Toury,
Gideon. 1995. Descriptive Translation Studies and beyond.
Amsterdam-Philadelphia: John Benjamins.
Toury,
Gideon. 1995a. "The Notion of `Assumed Translation': An Invitation to a
New Discussion", in Henri Bloemen, Erik Hertog and Winibert Segers, eds.
Letterlijkheid Woordelijkheid/Literality Verbality.
Antwerpen/Harmelen: Fantom, 1995. 135-147.
Toury,
Gideon. 1998. "The Beginning of Modern Translation into Hebrew: Yet
Another Look", in Dapim 11. 105-127. [Hebrew]
Toury,
Gideon. in press a. "A Handful of Paragraphs on `Translation' and
`Norms'", in Current Issues in Language & Society 5:1&2
(1999).
Toury,
Gideon. in
press b. "Culture
Planning and Translation", in Proceedings of the Vigo Conference
"anovadores de nós - anosadores de vós".
|