The Journal of Specialised Translation Issue 30 – July 2018

How ethical are codes of ethics? Using illusions of neutrality to sell

translations
Joseph Lambert, University of Hull

ABSTRACT

While codes of ethics undoubtedly represent most working translators’ primary (or only)
point of contact with the literature on ethics within the field of translation, scholars readily
acknowledge that these documents offer contradictory and sometimes confusing
guidelines. After synthesising a range of discussions of codes of ethics to outline key areas
of weakness, this article goes on to question why it is that such major shortcomings are
yet to be addressed. It argues that, despite ostensibly offering a set of rulings designed to
aid translators in their daily work and ethical decision-making, these codes can also
function as client-facing documents that indirectly help translation agencies and
associations to sell translations and memberships. This is achieved by developing a sense
of trust and confidence around a skewed image of the translation process and a fictional
construction of the translator as a neutral conduit, which overrides genuine ethical insight
to increase status and to reassure clients that their ‘message’ will remain intact. Not only
does this present issues regarding transparency and integrity, it also forces us to question
the assumption that the codes themselves are automatically ethical. Finally, I suggest
changes that may enable us to build towards a code of ethics that offers an empowering
image of translation as an active, multi-faceted activity that requires expert knowledge and
judgement, while openly recognising its inevitably manipulative basis.

KEYWORDS

Ethics, codes of ethics, codes of conduct, translation associations, professional translation,

business ethics, marketing.

1. Introduction

In recent years, the term ethics has come to represent something of a

buzzword in the professional world and various domains of academia. With
a desire to develop and display an increased awareness of our own roles
and responsibilities, translation scholars and practitioners were as keen as
any to embrace the subject as it came into vogue in the 1990s and
subsequently resurfaced with ever more prominence in the post-9/11 era
of global politics1. While sporadic work on ethics within translation studies
can be found prior to the 1990s (for instance, Berman 1984), a growing
number of influential scholars tackled the subject towards the end of the
twentieth century (see Venuti 1998 and Pym 1997 for two key texts). Since
then, its increased relevance in the last two decades is exemplified by the
efforts made by scholars such as Mona Baker and Christiane Nord to
incorporate ethics into their more recent works. The second edition of
Baker’s (2011) translation handbook In Other Words, for instance, devotes
an entire chapter to the subject to reflect the discipline’s (and her own)
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evolving interest since the book’s initial publication in 1992. In 2001,

meanwhile, Nord elected to modify Skopos theory’s conception of ‘Function’
with the addition of a tripartite ethical notion of ‘Loyalty’ (Nord 2001).

From a theoretical perspective, a deontological approach to ethics, which

concerns itself with universal moral principles that govern what one ought
to do, has long been one of the prevailing strategies of framing ethical
decision-making within translation scholarship and, on a practical level,
codes of ethics represent one of the most obvious applications of
deontology2. In recent years, these codes of ethics have become a
musthave document for translation associations and, to a lesser extent,
agencies; most professional associations now have a code that members
are expected to follow. These codes function as the working translator’s
primary point of contact with ethics and represent both a key tool in defining
ethical translation and informing ethical decision-making within the
translation profession. A number of scholars, from Antoine Berman (1984;
1999) and Anthony Pym (1997; 2012) to Jean-Marc Gouanvic (2001) and
Sarah Maitland (2012), have hinted at the potential of reading the act of
translation as an entirely ethical activity and, applying this understanding
of ethics, the codes’ role becomes even more crucial. Pym (2012:15), for
instance, views the ethics of translation as twofold: it contains “collective,
professional aspects as well as the translator’s individual morality” and “[i]f
any decision includes moral aspects, it follows that any act of translation,
and any theoretical treatise on it, can be read from the point of view of
ethics.” In this regard, our work as a translator is not merely a linguistic
exercise. Rather, our choices have a moral component. We produce target
texts that are influenced by our own specific, idiosyncratic worldviews and
are embedded within a wider context. As Maitland puts it: “[a]s a mode that
engages not just with the borders of language but the bearers of language
— people, cultures and nations — even before we address the question of
communication, translation is at base an ethical regime” (2012: 55). It is
from this conceptualisation of translation that this article proceeds and the
notion of translation as an ethically-bound activity carried out by a
necessarily-situated agent — i.e. a non-neutral translator who is
unconditionally constrained by their own idiosyncratic worldview — is
central to the discussions that follow.

Within this context, there is an obvious need for codes of ethics to explore
what exactly is required from translators. A defining element of any code
lies in its ability to govern what is generally termed as ‘employee’ (in this
case translatorial) behaviour and, as I will show, by failing to adequately
explore the complexities of translational practice, they not only fail to
function as intended but also fail to address truly ethical issues. Whether or
not we agree with their proposed methods of producing ‘ethical’
translations, authors from Berman (1984) and Henri Meschonnic (2007) to
Venuti (1998) and Gouanvic (2001) have all argued that the properly ethical
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aim of the translation act centres around the way in which we complete that
act. As such, codes of ethics must address this crucial process.

I first set out to gain an understanding of the general state of

translationspecific codes of ethics, highlighting regular calls for total
accuracy and neutrality as the most misrepresented guideline within these
codes. Subsequently, by critically examining the ongoing use of this
problematic image of translation, I seek to conceptualise the code of ethics
in a new way. I explore the notion of a politicised, non-neutral document
that represents an act of reassurance to the client and this in turn challenges
the assumption that codes of ethics are automatically ethical. The codes
used to frame much of this exploration are those of various UK translation
associations. However, several of the works cited do discuss codes from
associations and agencies based outside of the UK and a full list of all codes
consulted is provided at the end of this article. This selection of codes is
partly due to my own familiarity with the translation market in the UK, but
is also heavily influenced by the fact that these codes bear many of the
general features of a typical translation code of ethics used by numerous
agencies within and beyond the UK. This enables the content covered within
this article to apply to as wide a context as possible without risking a lack
of applicability.

2. The state of codes of ethics – initial concerns

In order to uncover the institutionally-embedded nature of codes of ethics,

it is first necessary to gain an understanding of their general status within
academia. I achieve this by synthesising discussions of the codes to date.
Within translation studies, aside from Andrew Chesterman’s 2001 paper
“Proposal for a Hieronymic Oath,” which attempts to create a new code of
ethics (and as such falls beyond the scope of this article), one of the only
efforts made to assess the effectiveness of codes is Julie
McDonoughDolmaya’s (2011) article entitled “Moral ambiguity: Some
shortcomings of professional codes of ethics for translators.” In addition to
her invaluable analysis, which is discussed below, I have also chosen to
include articles from interpreting studies in this corpus in order to sketch a
more comprehensive image of the terrain. Indeed, Interpreting Studies
scholars have regularly addressed the area. While Drugan (2011) notes that
McDonough-Dolmaya’s paper was (and still appears to be) the only
published study to focus on codes specific to the translation profession,
Nancy Schweda-Nicholson (1994), Marjorie Bancroft (2005), Sandra Hale
(2007), Holly Mikkelson (2000/1) and others have all produced surveys of
ethical codes in Interpreting Studies. Though the two areas obviously tackle
professions with their own distinct challenges and traditions, the fact that
codes of ethics are regularly shared between both translation and

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interpreting allows a great degree of cross-over — a dual focus exemplified

by authors including M. Rosario Martin Ruano (2015) and Leong Ko (2006).

From a general ethical point of view, Hale’s (2007) and SchwedaNicholson’s

(1994) surveys of codes suggest a number of common principles, with the
interpreter/translator’s overall role, competence, impartiality, completeness
and accuracy, conflicts of interest, confidentiality and continuing
professional development representing the key recurring points of
discussion. When considering the general limitations of current codes, the
consensus across all forms of translation and interpreting literature echoes
thoughts outlined by McDonough-Dolmaya in suggesting that there is a
sense of inconsistency and contradiction within and between codes while
other notable observations also come to light. Most apparent among these
is the widespread agreement that the codes are not sufficiently robust to
provide adequate support to translators and interpreters in their day-to-day
practice, something that Joanna Drugan and Chris Megone (2011: 187-8)
attribute to both an obvious inability of the codes to refer to the infinite
range of potential situations facing practitioners and problems of
interpretation:

[D]ifficulties in understanding arise because, on the one hand, codes do not

interpret themselves, they require intelligent deployment. On the other, if they are
mistakenly presented as a set of rules, they are bound to be inadequate to the
range of particular situations faced by practitioners. As there will always be
situations in which elements of the code enter into conflict or which the code does
not cover at all, developing judgement requires more input.

In attempting to pinpoint the cause of such flaws in the codes, Kristiina

Abdallah (2014: 131) suggests that translators are caught between two
different ethical systems: the “utilitarian business ethics” that requires the
translator to forge a trusting relationship with the client and to work quickly
in order to get paid and to make a profit, and the “translators’ deontological
ethics as outlined in the various codes of conduct provided by professional
associations.” At this point, Abdallah argues that translators’ professional
ethics are context-dependent and that the highly complex nature of ethical
dilemmas — which involve multiple actors and a range of divergent interests
— ensures that clear-cut universal rulings are inadequate when it comes to
informing ethical decision-making. Subsequently, she turns her attention to
the ways in which students of translation can be better prepared to handle
the ethical challenges that arise when translating, a focus on pedagogy that
is discussed in more detail below.

The code’s lack of straightforward applicability is also exemplified in cases

recounted by working translators. Translator Oliver Lawrence has explained
how, when attempting to clarify a tricky ethical situation with reference to
the codes provided by the various associations of which he was a member,

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he was struck by the lack of concrete advice provided. After failing to reach
a satisfactory answer by simply referring to the codes, he went on to call
the associations for advice but was still unable to clarify the situation.
Ultimately, he was left torn between competing responsibilities from his
profession, the law and his relationship to the client, and was forced to
conclude that while “[g]eneral principles and codes of ethics are all well and
good … they come into their own only when interpreting specific cases in
real practice.” Despite showing sympathy towards the associations
attempting to draw up codes, Lawrence (2016: n.p.) suspects that “more
can be done” to improve upon the current documents.

In light of these initial issues, McDonough-Dolmaya concludes by asking

“[s]o what, then, makes a translator ethical?” before positing that
“[p]resumably, in the view of profession-oriented translation networks, an
ethical translator is one who abides by the principles laid out in the
network's code of ethics.” However, given the lack of consensus among
these codes, what constitutes this ethical behaviour varies from network to
network and, when codes neglect to address certain topics completely
(McDonough-Dolmaya gives the example of how to handle errors in the
source text), translators may be given no guidelines at all. Building upon
Moira Inghilleri and Carol Maier’s belief that “there is no current consensus
on the nature and status of professional codes of ethics” (Baker 2011: 102),
these findings go some way to demonstrating that academic understandings
of ethics within the translation profession are limited at best. Ultimately,
more work is required to provide codes that are relevant to the day-to-day
work of translation, though it must be noted that this need is clearly
recognised by both academics and professional translation associations in
the UK and the USA. Indeed, the continued attention given to codes of ethics
within academia attests to this ongoing scholarly commitment, while the
fact that many translation associations regularly update and scrutinise their
codes demonstrates an appreciation that there remains room for
improvement.

3. Accuracy, fidelity and the illusion of neutrality

Once non-translation-specific maxims such as confidentiality and respect for

others have been put to one side, we are provided with an important
observation from McDonough-Dolmaya (2011: 32) that enables us to
pinpoint a key factor in many of the shortcomings outlined above:

The principles that do apply particularly to translation (or the language profession
in general) are intriguing because it is here that many of the codes differ: they often
do not agree what ethical principles translators should adopt in terms of accuracy,
working languages, and illegal/immoral/unethical texts.

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These “intriguing” principles see the codes of ethics begin to truly enter
ethical territory in a translational context and include mentions of ‘accuracy,’
‘fidelity’ and ‘impartiality.’ Here, the codes restrict the decisionmaking
ability of translators and generally display a disregard for the intricacy and
variable nature of the translation act. Indeed, some codes’ requests are
frankly impossible — the International Federation of Translator’s (IFT)
translator's charter, for instance, insists that “[e]very translation shall be
faithful and render exactly the idea and form of the original — this fidelity
constituting both a moral and legal obligation for the translator” [emphasis
added] while the code of UK-based agency Language Empire — which, like
many agencies, adopts a code similar or identical to those of translation
associations — offers another particularly striking example:

Interpreters and translators shall render the message faithfully, conveying the
content, spirit and cultural context of the original message.
This means the interpreter or translator shall interpret everything the speaker or
document says without changing the meaning, conveying what is said and how it is
said, without additions, omissions or alterations, but with due consideration of the
cultural context of both the sender and the receiver of the message.

These rulings governing accuracy and neutrality are regarded by many of

the authors tackling codes as a key area of discussion, with a universal
belief that these simplistic and often ill-defined calls are problematic. Clare
Donovan, for instance, draws attention to the way in which calls for accuracy
and impartiality are embedded in confused and contradictory rulings. As she
notes, “the Australian Association, AUSIT, states in its code under Article
5(iii) that “interpreters shall convey the whole message” and that they “shall
not alter, make additions to or omit anything”” (Donovan 2011: 112) while
also entitling interpreters to take “reasonable steps to ensure effective
communication” where necessary. This sees the code simultaneously
demanding “complete fidelity while allowing interpreter intervention to
guarantee understanding” — a paradoxical relationship between guidelines
that has been mentioned by other scholars such as Matthew Maltby (2010:
216), who notes that: “the NRPSI [National Register of Public Service
Interpreters] Code of Professional Conduct fails to adequately qualify or
quantify how ‘impartiality’ or ‘neutrality’ should be understood by
interpreters and other interlocutors during interpretermediated exchanges,
even though it features the term ‘impartial’ prominently.”

In what is a revealing example of how easily the translator/interpreter’s

supposedly neutral positioning can slip, Maltby goes on to analyse Asylum
Aid’s (AA) code of ethics. In this analysis the scholar uncovers inconsistency
and contradictions in how neutrality is presented, with interpreters being
simultaneously expected to give the image of favouring neither interlocutor
while also making decisions on the clients’ behalf when linguistic problems
arise, e.g. deciding when the client requires interpreting if they have some

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competence in English. AA advisors can also take an additional interpreter

along with them to official hearings to assess (or even question) the
performance of the official court interpreter. In this instance, the
interpreter’s role is certainly not neutral: they are clearly working for one
side, albeit in something of a non-traditional role of critical linguistic expert.
Maltby alludes to this in his statement that the interpreter is not only a
quality control element, ensuring that a message is transferred in a suitable
manner, but rather interprets “for us” i.e. for AA. Similarly, the Refugee
Action code shows a basis in neutrality and impartiality presumably inspired
by other institutional codes. However, once again there is a turn towards
the interpreter being an active agent in the decision-making process, being
able to provide advice where they feel appropriate based upon their level of
professional experience. As Maltby (2010: 229) puts it, interpreters are
permitted to have an “active, advocacy role as an additional advisor in client
consultations,” challenging or clarifying any information. However, this role
is restricted to an off-the-record basis, maintaining the illusion of neutrality
and introducing “a double-faced conceptualization of the interpreter.” This
double role that is hidden from the client is clearly an unethical position
from the perspective of the codes of ethics, forcing us to question the
purpose of these codes while lending weight to the case for overturning the
use of the image of translators and interpreters as transparent channels of
communication.

Of course, despite being referred to together within many stipulations

governing accuracy and fidelity, there is a sizeable difference between
interpreting and translating on the key issues of accuracy and neutrality.
The pressures on interpreters in this regard are distinct and accuracy
seemingly holds a more prominent role within discussions of ethics within
interpreting as a result of this pressing demand. However, I contend that
despite being less explicitly apparent, the issue of accuracy holds the same
ethical importance for translators and these revealing examples, which refer
specifically to interpreting, provide important insight for the discussions of
translation that follow.

4. Turning to pedagogy when solving issues

Perhaps surprisingly, given the clear shortcomings of current codes,

Chesterman’s “Hieronymic Oath” stands alone as an attempt to produce a
modified code of ethics within translation and interpreting studies. While
other scholars have produced work calling for fine-tuned, rewritten or
otherwise modified codes, none to date have actually completed this crucial
step of making the changes to the codes that they analyse. Instead, while
codes are regularly labelled as inadequate or contradictory, what regularly
ensues from many of these discussions is a turn to pedagogy, with several
authors suggesting that students must be made aware of the contradictions

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and shortcomings within codes of ethics before outlining methods of putting

this into practice. These include the implementation of teaching practices
that employ real-life examples, case studies and role plays — a suggestion
echoed by several authors including Drugan and Megone (2011) whose
paper is specifically geared towards outlining why and how we should teach
ethics in translation studies courses. Yet despite the authors reporting
success within classroom settings, the decision to leave the codes
unchanged is problematic. Indeed, while training emerging translators to
develop a critical awareness of their role is undoubtedly important, in an
activity that has struggled with its professional status due to its largely
unregulated nature, there needs to be a concerted effort to make this
information and ethical training immediately accessible beyond the
classroom. Martin Ruano (2015: 142), for instance, asserts that in recent
years “codes of conduct have been hailed as a means of progressing towards
the professionalisation of a low-status activity,” re-emphasising their status
as one of the cornerstones of professional movement, yet she too seeks to
find answers in the use of pedagogy. Not all translators are or have been
translation students and widespread efforts should be made to instil these
valuable lessons within the translation profession more widely, particularly
among those who have not received formal translator training. It is
important to acknowledge that professional associations have made some
effort in this area. The ITI, CIoL and ATA, for instance, have all emphasised
their commitment to CPD (Continuing Professional Development), even at
the risk of making themselves unpopular with some members; and
importantly, training on ethics has figured prominently in their CPD
provision. Ultimately, while pedagogy is a vital area of discussion, in such
an unregulated profession where many translators and interpreters do not
hold translation-specific degrees, surely making this information (i.e. how
to ‘act ethically’) available to practising professionals through codes of
ethics (or perhaps other means?) is equally important? More pressingly,
however, given this clear reluctance to address the codes directly, we need
to ask why, despite repeated assertions of deficiencies in a number of key
areas, there is an almost universal focus on shifting the debate to the
classroom rather than tackling the problem head-on. This requires us to
look beyond the ostensible aims of a code of ethics and foreground the
politics of these documents within the context of the nature of translation
itself.
5. Institutionally-embedded documents: Selective images of
translation

When interviewed in July 2016, Jen Calleja (Dziurosz 2016), translator in

residence at the Austrian Cultural Forum London, commented that
perceptions of translation still revolve around an assumed lack of mediation
as well as attesting to the sense of mistrust that accompanies the act, with
generally received ideas calling for a transparent flow between two
languages. When discussing her work with a non-translator friend and
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explaining that “when translating, you have to alter the text,” she recounted
that “he was furious, said that’s immoral and that you should ‘just translate’
it.” Similarly, when discussing the need for translations to be produced with
a specific context in mind at a conference, she was again confronted with
dissenting voices: “No, that’s wrong, as a translator you don’t make that
decision, you ‘just translate’ a text.” Opposing this idea of simple
transference, Calleja instead explains that, for her, translation is “the same
with any reading of any text” and involves an individual communicating
“their personal voice; viewing that translator as a voice that has been told
a story and is further communicating it in a way that they personally can.”
Yet while Calleja offers us a valuable glimpse into an interpretive basis of
translation that seemingly defies the general consensus, she is far from
alone in her thinking.

Indeed, within translation studies this notion of interpretation has emerged

in various forms. According to Chesterman, the idea of translation as
interpretation dates back to what he labels the “manipulation school of
thought” developed in the 1980s, while the framework underlying Baker’s
influential 2006 Translation and Conflict is based upon the notion that
“translations (and translators) can never be absolutely neutral, objective,
since every act of translation involves an interpretation” (Baker 2008: 10),
again providing us with the image of the translator as holding a necessarily
interpretive role. This model of translation provides an important
counterpoint to the image put forward in codes, and the reluctance to fully
embrace this mediatory role despite its repeated re-emergence is central to
understanding the persistence of the skewed version of translation offered
by codes of ethics.

In the example cited above, Refugee Action call upon the image of neutrality
when it is convenient for them, presenting the interpreter to clients as a
transparent conduit while simultaneously calling upon the interpreter’s
partiality. Indeed, in both of the cases examined by Maltby, the
organisations seek interpreters who are ideologically predisposed to helping
their cause, endorsing active intervention that can be of benefit to them.
More generally, Donovan (2011: 112) identifies a need for associations to
maintain the illusion of the conduit model in order to provide clients with a
reassuring image of the profession:

[T]here is the need – in the light of the sensitivity of the interpreter’s mediation –
to reassure speakers and clients generally as to the impartiality of the interpreter,
the adherence to strict confidentiality and the complete accuracy of the rendition.
But this has to be reconciled with the profession’s claim to authority over the way
the message is re-expressed.

For Donovan, this dual concern has been actively incorporated into the
codes and become “broadly accepted by practitioners and clients alike.”

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Indeed, translators and interpreters themselves are willing to emphasise

professional neutrality and confidentiality as pillars of their professional
practice as this stance “protects them from awkward and even threatening
criticism and deflects potential pressure from powerful clients” while also
enabling them to retain authority over their output (Ibid.: 112-3). Though
most translators are undoubtedly aware of their interpretive input when
translating, there nevertheless seems to be a reluctance or inability to alter
the image of total neutrality that proliferates. Perhaps this is down to a lack
of time to educate every client on the level of accuracy/fidelity they can
expect, a lack of authority to question the image of the translator provided
by agencies or even a willingness to allow this image to continue unchecked
given the potential benefits it holds. In a bid to get work, when translating
for agencies who enforce a code of conduct or joining a professional agency,
translators are expected to accept the terms of a code of ethics that does
not truly represent the way that they go about their activity. Clients,
meanwhile, are presented with an image of translation that fails to inform
them of the realities of the practice. Furthermore, although translators may
well be aware that this image is not realistic, clients cannot be expected to
have the same familiarity with the translation process. Indeed, many clients
will have little or no experience (or interest) in the translation process, but
this does not mean that they should not expect to be provided with honest
insights into what they will receive. Within sales and marketing, ‘puffery’ —
or the exaggeration of a product or service’s benefits by using hyperbolic,
subjective descriptions — is perfectly legal yet, as Roger Bradburn (2001:
109) notes, there is a fine line between this kind of “sales spiel” and outright
misrepresentation. According to Bradburn, “[m]isrepresentation is an
objective statement about a product that is wrong. It is a lie — although
even if you genuinely believe it to be true, if you give false information, you
are guilty of misrepresentation never-the-less” (Ibid.). This is important as
it forces us to be responsible for the representations of translation that we
provide. Given that the codes are presumably intended to provide an
objective image of translation, even a genuine belief in this erroneous
understanding of the process is not enough to excuse the image that is
provided.

Whether or not the image provided is a conscious effort to mislead, concerns

remain and these idealised codes undoubtedly serve to allay clients’ fears
when it comes to accurate transferral of content and confidentiality. As
Martin Ruano (2015: 149) notes “[c]laims for strict compliance with
neutrality are often put forward as a guarantee for the professionalisation
of translation and interpreting in the legal field.” However, the propagation
of this conflictual notion risks blinding translators to the consequences of
their actions and she argues that, if neutrality is internalised by an
inexperienced translator, they could well end up undermining the
professional image that they strive to present. As she explains:
“[t]ranslators accurately reproducing the substandard wording of many
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texts which have to be translated daily in international organisations or

court interpreters mimicking the incoherent and disjointed discourse of
uneducated speakers could well appear as incompetent rather than neutral”
(Ibid.).

Despite many professional associations regularly updating their codes of

ethics, the topics of accuracy and impartiality seemingly do not represent a
key area of concern and it becomes clear that codes are not merely designed
to teach translators to act in an ethical manner, but rather take on a more
political dimension. Presenting a skewed image of the translation process
within the codes not only impacts upon translators, but also reflects this
image on a wider scale. The content within the codes also informs clients of
the ethical implications of the translation task, reinforces the association or
agency’s professional status and provides authoritative statements that
often go unquestioned. Indeed, just as translation is not a neutral activity,
nor are these codes neutral. They are produced by various institutions in
order to guide the actions of professionals in a specific, predetermined way,
and cannot be separated from their context of application on the websites
of translation agencies and associations who have their own interests at
stake. Of course, agencies and associations serve differing functions and
will employ these documents in different ways, but the codes represent a
powerful tool in providing authority, professionalism and a marketable
notion of moral goodness in both cases.
Despite the outward appearance of translators representing the object of
these documents, in reality the codes can also act as client-facing
documents that provide an image of translation that is deemed to be more
conducive to attracting clients — i.e. the allure of total accuracy and
impartial conduits for a message is more economically-viable than a
subjective account of the activity. The first page of the Institute of
Translation and Interpreting’s (ITI) code, which offers an introduction to the
ITI (who they are, what they do) and outlines the purpose of the code,
subtly implies a target for the document and hints at the financial stakes
involved with the mention of their desire to welcome corporate members.
Lines such as 1.3, which informs us that “[a]dherence to the standards of
conduct, competence and practice set out in this Code of Professional
Conduct (“the Code”) are fundamental requirements of membership of the
Institute” and that “[t]he Code sets high standards for the Institute’s
members” could be presented to both prospective members and clients
alike, offering a very marketable, “ethical” image of the institution.
Importantly, while the need to offer an enticing image of translation to
clients is more immediate in the case of translation agencies who gain their
income directly from those clients, the associations also benefit from this
image. As well as offering corporate memberships, more clients turning to
the association in general means a more attractive offering to potential
members.

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Commenting upon codes of ethics on a wider level, Patrick Erwin (2011:

535) calls attention to a dual purpose for codes that implies such political
investment. As he explains, “codes of conduct are … commonly used to
govern employee behavior and establish a socially responsible
organizational culture.” While all previous analyses of codes of ethics within
translation studies have examined the extent to which these codes
successfully govern employee (i.e. translatorial) behaviour, translation
scholars are yet to fully consider the role that these documents play in
enhancing an organisation’s standing, something that is implied in Erwin’s
acknowledgment that codes establish this “socially responsible
organizational culture,” whereby even having a code of ethics is a part of
promoting the success of a business.

Clearly, however, the increased presence of codes does not automatically

indicate that they are being actively employed, and a vacuum existis
between the code and the practice. According to Avshalom Adam and Dalia
Rachman-Moore (2004: 237), who approach codes of ethics from the
perspective of general business ethics, the majority of employees find that
pre-existing social norms have a much greater influence on their ethical
conduct than the code of ethics. This tendency to base behaviour on a less
formally-developed model of action is certainly mirrored in the case of
translation — perhaps necessarily due to the codes’ failure to accurately
reflect the demands of the activity. Indeed, rather than following the letter
of the codes of ethics, translators seem to employ methodologies that are
developed more intuitively and based on keeping the client happy and
getting more work. As well as being reflected in Calleja’s understanding of
translation outlined above, this has certainly been true of my own practice
as a freelance translator. With a number of agency contacts explicitly setting
out methodologies for their translators to follow that contravene guidelines
found in codes of ethics, I soon learned that a course of action prioritising
the kind of accuracy called for in codes of ethics would quickly lead to a
shortage of work. For instance, a senior editor at one translation agency
advised me in an email that translated pieces should read like an original
piece of English journalism and that all translators should aim to get away
from the French style and structure — while sticking to the facts of the
original — so that it betrays no hint of having been translated. This is by no
means an isolated example; when working for another agency, the head of
the company (a translator himself) provided similar advice. When sending
me a source text for translation, he advised that I try not to overwrite,
remarking that English is not by general consensus as verbose as French, it
being a language where ‘less is more’ and advocating a methodology that
made wholesale changes and omissions, emphasising the mediatory,
interventionary role played by the translator. Ultimately, though the current
codes may fail to adequately reflect the realities of the practice, this does
not necessarily mean that translators are acting in an unethical manner.

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Clearly, the regularly-used image of translation as an unproblematic

transfer of meaning that takes place in a neutral vacuum does not fairly
reflect the act of translation. Translators take on an active, interpretive role
when tackling a text, and simply sticking closely to a source text in terms
of lexis, structure, sound, metaphor etc. is not preferable, or even possible
in many instances. Not only is this image of translation damaging to
translators in devaluing such a complex activity, it also presents a false
image to clients who expect the unobtainable and should instead be made
aware of what is happening to their texts. This responsibility lies with the
supplier of the service — translator, agency or association — and the code
of ethics provides an ideal place to outline such a process. Some clients will
of course simply expect the translator or agency to ‘just translate’ and
inclusion within a code of ethics allows for this eventuality. The clients do
not have to be invested in the translation process but, if they do decide to
explore this process, the image they are provided should be realistic.
Similarly, in the case of individual translators working with direct clients,
they should be expected to provide an honest depiction of their input if the
client questions the translation process.

Briefly returning to the focus on pedagogy explored in the previous section,

I contend that the codes’ embedded nature is perhaps at least partly
responsible for scholars shifting the emphasis of their enquiry. Based on the
analysis in this section, rewriting a code is not simply a linguistic matter of
editing a number of paragraphs. Rather, it involves scrutinising the codes’
function, positioning and implementation. For any changes to be made, the
codes must be extracted from their inevitably situated context. By moving
the discussion to the classroom, the scholars discussing these codes (many
of whom are translator trainers) are shifting debates to an environment
within which they have control and can implement any necessary changes.
Translation training also affords the time and a dedicated space for students
to fully engage with a complex issue such as ethics. Of course, if we reflect
upon the scholars’ own subjective, non-neutral positioning, one could also
conclude that there are other, less pragmatic factors involved. Indeed, the
decision to move towards translator training draws attention to the value of
a formal education in translation. Just as translation agencies and
associations have their own interests in producing and implementing codes,
we cannot ignore the potential of translator training as a line of business for
higher education institutions and other centres. It is arguably in their
professional, financial and academic interests to call ethics into question to
add justification and appeal to the courses they offer. Rather than making
this ethical know-how freely available in easily-accessible codes, it is
restricted to an academic context.

Currently, the profile of the translator is that of a neutral, totally objective,

unquestionably competent, honest, ethical being endowed with
unshakeable integrity3. By reiterating this image of the neutral, conduit
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translator or interpreter and simultaneously concealing the fact that

interpreting and translation involve a reworking of texts or indirectly
enabling interpreters to rework the texts, the codes fail to refer to actual
practice but nevertheless serve a valuable (if questionable) purpose for the
code providers. Given that any translator seeking to produce professional
translation cannot realistically adhere to the standards of conduct and
practice set out by any code, we are left with the ever-growing sense that
these codes are not primarily aimed at guiding ‘ethical’ conduct among
translators. Instead, as well as attracting members (of course, members
will not be attracted to the association unless they will benefit from
increased status and the likelihood of more work) the codes also appear to
act as client-facing documents used to provide a carefully-curated — and
false — image of the process of translation and the profile of the translators
working in their name.

This combination of an unrealistic (and, as Martin Ruano explains above,

arguably undesirable) image of translation and the idealised image of a
fictional, dehumanised translator serves to provide the client with an
attractive yet grossly unrepresentative view of the translation profession
and industry. This continued reliance on an inaccurate portrayal of the
translation process could be seen as a desire on the part of translation
agencies and associations to increase reliance on their offerings and to
provide clients with an image that they believe they want to see. While still
ostensibly taking on the form of a document packaged for consumption by
working translators in a bid to add a professional sheen to an unregulated
profession, the codes represent an economic opportunity to attract a client
and this dual purpose simultaneously enhances and disguises the codes’
economic status and potential. Indeed, a code of ethics does not have the
same status as a more traditional marketing text seeking to promote or sell
a product but, when employed to provide an attractive image of a product
(in this case, of accurate, neutral and ethical translation), it undoubtedly
holds implicit marketing potential.

6. A code of ethics for codes of ethics

As codes of ethics have been adopted only relatively recently (and given the
lack of research into their political dimensions), there is little precedent for
tackling a code that is more symbolic than realistic as I have suggested is
the case with current translation codes. By this I mean that translation
codes hold an important role in defining the professional activity and yet do
not adequately or fairly reflect the way that the professional activity
functions. In 2013, however, charges were made against Samsung by
French rights groups Peuples Solidaires, Sherpa and Indecosa-CGT, who
accused the company of misleading advertising by promoting a code of
ethics that they failed to uphold, with labour abuses uncovered by China

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Labor Watch at their factories. This prompted Europe’s first investigation

into the contradictions between the ethical commitments of a company and
the real-life practices, aiming to prove that the ethical image that a brand
seeks to portray can constitute an advertisement and subsequently mislead
consumers. As William Bourdon (Mundy 2013), the human rights lawyer
who filed the complaint, explained: “Samsung benefits financially from the
ethical image broadcast to the general public,” referring to the case as “the
first attempt to obtain judicial sanction of this babble-language of
multinationals.” Though there is undoubtedly a disparity in the scale and
severity of the cases, this example offers a clear indication of the advertising
potential of an ethical stance and suggests that companies are beginning to
be scrutinised in this regard. Indeed, it seems that the tactic of using ethics
as a marketing strategy is steadily becoming a more widely-recognised
phenomenon. With ethics taking on increasing importance in recent
decades, marketers have long been aware of consumers’ preferences for
ethical companies, meaning that ethics itself becomes a selling point.
However, despite codes of ethics not being a traditional means of
advertising, these translation documents are certainly highly visible. On the
ITI site, for instance, it appears that prospective fee-paying members are
regularly directed to the Code of Conduct via hyperlinks and within the ‘Find
a Professional’ section — where potential clients will seek to gain information
on the services on offer — the Code is mentioned almost immediately as a
positive selling point offered by the institution.

As Mark Schwartz (2002: 28) notes, beyond governing standards of

conduct, codes also aid in the promotion of a public image. Yet the ethical
validity of the code in fulfilling this role is rarely questioned. He adds: “An
assumption appears pervasive among both academics and the business
community that codes of ethics are prima facie ethical in terms of their
content and use”— a charge that can certainly be levelled against research
emanating from translation studies. Indeed, to date there has been no
discussion of the basis of these codes: it is readily accepted that they can
be improved upon but there is no suggestion that the flawed guidelines at
the centre of these codes are the result of anything more pernicious than a
simple misunderstanding or lack of thought.
Schwartz goes on to challenge the fundamental assumption that corporate
codes are always ethical and sets about sketching a moral framework that
the codes themselves should adhere to, a task that enables him to “ethically
audit” companies for compliance. Although it is beyond the scope of this
article to carry out such an “audit” on a code or to create an ethical
framework that can be utilised in fully assessing the effectiveness of a
translation code of ethics specifically — a task that would require an indepth
exploration of the properly “ethical” way to translate — the universal
framework that Schwartz provides can be employed here to reach some
general conclusions about the status of these translation codes. Schwartz
himself openly admits that assigning “universal” moral standards for his
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framework is a difficult task and accepts that these standards can only
remain preliminary without an extended, philosophical justification for their
inclusion. However he (Schwartz 2002: 29) nevertheless feels that by
consulting sources ranging from employee feedback to business ethics
literature, he can establish initial legitimacy. The list of universal moral
standards drawn up reads as follows:

1. Trustworthiness (including notions of honesty, integrity, reliability, and

loyalty);
2. Respect (including notions of respect for human rights);
3. Responsibility (including notions of accountability);
4. Fairness (including notions of process, impartiality, and equity);
5. Caring (including notion of avoiding unnecessary harm);
6. Citizenship (including notions of obeying laws and protecting the
environment). (Schwartz 2002:29-30)

Of these standards, “Trustworthiness” is immediately called into question in

the translation codes of ethics. In a passage expanding upon notions of
honesty and integrity within the standard of trustworthiness, Schwartz
explains that this maxim calls for companies to “[b]e honest to
stakeholders” and “[s]tick to values despite financial loss,” both of which
are directly violated in the case many translation codes, with clients being
provided with a false image of the process that can potentially lead to
increased economic gains. Clearly, despite continued efforts to explore
codes of ethics, there remains a need for these documents to be addressed
more fully within translation studies and the translation profession.

7. Conclusions

As demonstrated in the previous section, questioning the ethical status of

these codes is an important step to take. This overturns a troubling
assumption that “as long as codes are at least somewhat effective in either
reducing harmful behavior or promoting good behavior, then codes of ethics
necessarily possess ethical legitimacy” (Schwartz 2002: 28-9). Ultimately,
based on the analysis carried out within this article, doubts remain that
translation codes of ethics do either of these things when it comes to actual
translation practice. The model for ‘good’ translation put forward by the
codes — the notion of complete and entirely impartial meaning transfer —
is unrealistic and potentially harmful, failing to acknowledge the necessarily
mediatory role played by the translator, and it seems doubtful that most
translators stick to these guidelines.

Returning to Schwartz once again, he (2002: 28) notes that when proposing
changes to codes of ethics, “[t]hose making recommendations … typically
offer little or no normative justification” and this shortcoming must be taken
into account when considering any future progress. In order to produce truly
ethical and representative codes, any alterations must be justified based on
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considerable work into the precise nature of ethical translation. Another

obvious factor when considering how to negotiate the issues described here
would be the question of whether or not agencies and institutions would be
open to using a code that provides an image of translation as a subjective,
inherently-imperfect activity. If not, any rewrite of a code that aims to
provide translators with a genuinely insightful and helpful guide on best
practices within the act of translation must re-purpose the existing codes
and create a new space for such documents. Even then, it is not enough to
simply have a satisfactory ethical code in place. It is not until code
penetration has taken place — when the code of ethics is actually
representative of actual practice within a company — that these documents
can take on truly ethical status and this adds another challenge to be
addressed. Rather than merely rewriting or rewording the existing codes
and assuming that their presence alone is enough to modify behaviour, any
new code would have to be explicitly presented to new translators as a
useful guide in assisting their work in order for it to complete the process
of integration required for code penetration to take place.

One potential method of tackling this problematic presentation of translation

is the option of deleting any questionable references to translational ‘best
practice’ completely, and the IAPTI (International Association of
Professional Translators and Interpreters) code represents one such
example that follows this course of action. Chief among the group’s
objectives is the desire to “promote ethical practices in the field of Linguistic
Translation and Interpretation” and this aim is perhaps an indicator of their
decision to follow such a methodology. With a greater appreciation of ethical
issues at the core of their existence, it would be no surprise for their code
of ethics to demonstrate a greater awareness of the potential ramifications
of forwarding a guide to best practice that is overly stringent or makes light
of the complexity of the translation process and ignores the general
consensus among translators that such a “neutral” methodology is neither
realistic nor desirable. The purpose of the code is made explicit from the
outset: “The aim of this Code of Ethics is to establish the minimal
professional standards of good practice expected from IAPTI members.”
This in itself is not surprising – we would expect all codes to set a similar
purpose — but the content that follows is unexpected in that it does not
tackle all of the key areas mentioned above. While the code integrates
guidelines on competence (“Only accept jobs for which they [members] are
able to guarantee a proper standard of quality to their clients”) and
confidentiality (“Respect confidentiality with regard to any and all materials
received from their clients”), there is nothing on only translating into a
“native” language — one of the few points of consensus in terms of best
practice — and only one ruling on general translation practice, with
members simply required to “[c]arry out translating or interpreting tasks
thoroughly and responsibly.” There are no mentions of accuracy, objectivity
or fidelity here, and yet this omission does not result in any greater clarity.
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With translation viewed as a fundamentally ethical activity, in that all

translational decisions are a form of ethical intervention, simply advising an
inexperienced (or experienced) translator to go about their work
“thoroughly and responsibly” will by no means guarantee satisfactory, or
ethical, results, and an expanded code that provides additional depth and
nuance is required. In truth, though the IAPTI code avoids tackling accuracy
at all, the code remains inadequate in this regard, failing to address
translatorial behaviour in any capacity. Deleting any references to tricky
subjects may seem to be a simple solution, yet this example proves that
such a course of action is undoubtedly problematic and also forces us to
neglect a crucial tenet in defining a code of ethics — that codes are primarily
intended to govern “employee” behaviour — and, without delving into
translational practices, risk becoming a general, professional document of
little practical value to the professional translator. That said, what the IAPTI
code does is prove that it is possible to refrain from setting out a false image
of the translation activity, seemingly offering a code that is much more
transparent, if no clearer, than those of many other associations.

Conceptualised as a politicised, non-neutral document whose functions

include providing reassurance to the client, the code of ethics takes on a
radically different shape. Particularly for a document based around
highlighting the importance of moral standards such as honesty, integrity
and transparency, the translation code of ethics’ own ethical credentials are
undeniably questionable. Ultimately, for codes to move beyond their current
position as inconsistent and often unhelpful status symbols for agencies to
add an air of authority and professionalism, there is much more at stake
than the language used. As with so much in translation, it is a question of
context. Removed from narrow economic interests, the code of ethics could
be employed to proliferate an empowering image of translation as an active,
multi-faceted activity that requires expert knowledge and judgement, while
openly exploring its inevitably manipulative basis. This would require a more
nuanced description of the translation process and an acceptance of this
interpretive input. In this instance, clients would be presented with a
perhaps less appealing proposition for their texts — the awareness that their
‘message’ is in the fallible hands of a human being, or the contention that
their message is open to multiple interpretations even when not translated,
will perhaps provoke distrust — yet an openness surrounding the true
complexity of the task should eventually elicit more respect for translation
as an activity and, at the very least, clients would be presented with a more
representative image of the services that they are paying for.

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with any of the associations, agencies or

networks mentioned in this article.

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Biography

Joseph Lambert is currently teaching French and Translation Studies at

the University of Hull. His primary area of research is the ethics of
translation and his PhD thesis sets about developing a new theory of
translation ethics by synthesising ideas from ethical theory, hermeneutics
and translation studies. He is also an experienced freelance translator and
is keen to explore the relationship between theory and practice in
translation.

Email: [email protected]

Notes

1
See, for instance, the 2001 special issue of The Translator entitled “The Return to
ethics.” In his introduction, Anthony Pym notes that the return to ethics in Translation
Studies emerged as part of a “very general social trend” in the 90s (2001:129).
2
At this point it is important to note that the terms code of conduct and code of ethics
are used almost interchangeably in translation studies literature and professional
documentation despite some attempts to delineate the two. Indeed, Joanna Drugan insists
that there is a clear distinction between the two, citing the example of the Société Française
des traducteurs (SFT – French translators’ organisation) who followed the ATA in adopting
a ‘Code d’Éthique Professionnelle’ [Code of professional ethics], which members are bound
to follow. However, the SFT provides an English translation of this code on their website
under the title of ‘Code of conduct’
(https://www.sft.fr/clients/sft/telechargements/file_front/51907_deontologieanglaisweb.
pdf.pdf (consulted 11.05.2018)). This flexibility of terminology demonstrated by the SFT
code calls Drugan’s contention into question and reinforces the general trend for using the
terms interchangeably.
3
Examples demonstrating these calls include stipulations that “[m]embers shall carry
out all work entrusted to them with complete impartiality,” “[m]embers’ personal, private,
religious, political or financial interests should not conflict with their duties and obligations
to their clients,” “[m]embers are expected to act with integrity in all their professional and
business activities. This means acting with honesty, fairness and impartiality at all times
and not allowing themselves to be improperly influenced either by self-interest or the
interests of others,”,and “[m]embers shall maintain complete confidentiality at all times
and treat any information that may come to them in the course of their work as privileged
information.”

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