Translating the internet

I don’t know what to make of this report by Reidar visser, which analyses the effect of the internet on separatist Shi’ite politics in Southern Iraq. Much of the report is devoted to translating and commenting on articles from fairly minor websites. I’m delighted that people are taking apart arabic-language Iraqi politics on the internet, and making it available to those poor fools who don’t speak Arabic (i.e. me).

But at the same time, isn’t it a waste of time? At one point, Visser reveals that one article has had only 10-30 readers. Is it worth an expert’s time to translate this stuff?

Arabic discussions about Iraq are so widespread on the internet that no human is going to be able to translate them all. If you want to understand what Iraqis are saying on the web, you’re really going to have to learn Arabic. You’ll get so much more information by skimming though lots of sites than by reading erudite deconstructions of a few articles. Case studies are inevitably misleading: they’re subject to the biases of an academic, and no one piece of writing can explain an entire discusison.

But – there are so many people, myself included, who don’t read Arabic and yet write about Iraq. In an ideal world, we’d all either learn the language or stop talking about Iraq. In my case, either is a possibility: I’m likely either to finally learn to read arabic, or to shift my focus off Iraq and onto the CIS, where I can at least read what’s going on in Russian. But in general, most people won’t know the languages of countries they’re trying to understand.

Given that, I suppose translating and analysing extracts from foreign-language sites is worthwhile. But it still feels as though Visser and others like him are flinging themselves at an impossible task.

Translating the internet

I don’t know what to make of this report by Reidar visser, which analyses the effect of the internet on separatist Shi’ite politics in Southern Iraq. Much of the report is devoted to translating and commenting on articles from fairly minor websites. I’m delighted that people are taking apart arabic-language Iraqi politics on the internet, and making it available to those poor fools who don’t speak Arabic (i.e. me).

But at the same time, isn’t it a waste of time? At one point, Visser reveals that one article has had only 10-30 readers. Is it worth an expert’s time to translate this stuff?

Arabic discussions about Iraq are so widespread on the internet that no human is going to be able to translate them all. If you want to understand what Iraqis are saying on the web, you’re really going to have to learn Arabic. You’ll get so much more information by skimming though lots of sites than by reading erudite deconstructions of a few articles. Case studies are inevitably misleading: they’re subject to the biases of an academic, and no one piece of writing can explain an entire discusison.

But – there are so many people, myself included, who don’t read Arabic and yet write about Iraq. In an ideal world, we’d all either learn the language or stop talking about Iraq. In my case, either is a possibility: I’m likely either to finally learn to read arabic, or to shift my focus off Iraq and onto the CIS, where I can at least read what’s going on in Russian. But in general, most people won’t know the languages of countries they’re trying to understand.

Given that, I suppose translating and analysing extracts from foreign-language sites is worthwhile. But it still feels as though Visser and others like him are flinging themselves at an impossible task.

Untitled

The front page of yesterday’s Independent quotes various high court judges grumbling about the government and civil liberties. My favourite is Lord Carlile of Berriew, who said that:

“If the Government under-mines the judiciary then the judiciary might be tempted to undermine the Government”

Somebody give that man a Kalashnikov, and let him start cells of guerilla judges.

The grand plan

I’ve recently had conversations with several of my f’list about what kind of work I’m looking for. They’re generally pretty unsatisfying – I’m very bad at explaining what I’m looking for, and my opinion of what job I can hope for varies with mood from “I can do anything” to “cleaning toilets is the best I can hope for”. I’ve told lots of you that I don’t know what I want, or that I just want something to pay the rent. Which is part-true, but not really.

So, I’ve finally tried to put it into writing. At least now I can point people at my LJ before muttering gloomily to them about the latest rejections.


The masterplan, take one

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Plans

Plans for the week:

Tuesday: WUS

Wednesday: CAN meeting dinner with sam and sarah, free in the daytime

Thursday: department party, south asia party, activist barbeque. All at the same time.

Friday: My party (eep!)

Saturday: CUID/stop aids/etc garden party in the afternoon (or rocksoc picnic), then Rocksoc May Brawl

Sunday (19th): rocksoc punting in the afternoon. Evening would have been bounce, if I’d been organised enough to buy a ticket. But I wasn’t, so the evening is free

Monday: CUFS punting

Tuesday/wednesday: free so far

Thursday 23rd: Calling

mmmm…my life seems to involve lots of acronyms

Two things I wrote in my exam and you didn’t

Sanskrit set text exams. The good part about them is that the set texts are bonkers. Friday’s exam included two gems

1. ‘He treats like a ladle’

(this is an example of a word that doesn’t exist. But the idea seems to be that it doesn’t exist *only* because the sanskrit word for ‘ladle’ doesn’t end in an n, and not because you wouldn’t want to treat people like ladles. A word that does exist is ‘he becomes chain mail’, which might come in handy for the roleplayers among you)


2. ‘Next, he prays to the anthill’

(This is what it sounds like. It’s a ritual. Somebody prays to an anthill. This is considered normal, as far as I can tell)

There are two more set text papers on tuesday and wednesday. I strongly suspect they will include more ridiculousness.

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Sentences

I’m not sure people quite believe me when I grumble about the long sentences in some of my set texts. So I thought I’d favour you all with a particularly fine example of the ridiculous sentence. Here’s a fine poetic account of the end of the day. Without full stops. And if you can make sense of the bits about the sandbank and the ivory crocodile, you’re doing better than the rest of us.


Describing sunset without full stops