Oratory and the spoken word
THIS blessed planet of ours is in a state of sixes and sevens. As one looks at images of the devastated landscape of the once hustling, bustling lands that are flashed across the TV screens, the one thought that comes readily to mind is that the United Nations has not exactly covered itself with glory. The Nobel Peace Prize notwithstanding, the United Nations is in the news more for acts of omission than for any constructive initiatives aimed at preserving or promoting peace. Subsequently, given the mayhem let loose by the War on Terror, one hardly ever hears mention of the World Body in the discussions of the sages. Lest the aforesaid lead the reader to the conclusion that this is another one of those self-righteous pieces, one would hasten to clarify that this is not so and that one’s intentions are strictly honourable.
To be fair, with all its faults, the United Nations is not entirely devoid of good points. Let us take one aspect. Those of us who have had the privilege of sitting through one of those tense confrontations, that erupt every now and then in the United Nation’s ancillary bodies, cannot but have come away with anything but praise for the dedicated band of interpreters that service the World Body. The best of these interpreters will not only translate the text of the speech but also faithfully convey the mood and intonation of the delegate taking the floor. This ensures that the atmospherics are not lost in translation.
The year was 1977 and the occasion the annual meeting of the United Nations Human Rights Commission. The United States’ representative had managed to ruffle the feathers of the Soviet delegate by playing up the sensitive issue of the detention of some dissidents in the USSR. The Soviet Union’s representative happened to be one of the last of the great breed of diplomats of the era, Valerian Zorin. Mr. Zorin took the floor and in a classical display of fiery oratory carried all before him. He spoke in Russian, of course, but the interpreter matched his oratory – not just the language but also the flair, the flow of rhetoric and the atmospherics. One was left with the eerie feeling that one was listening to his intervention in original. Such is the power of a good interpreter.
There is, of course, the other side of the coin. For every orator, there are a hundred others who are so fond of listening to their own voices that they drone on and on and on in repetitive monotone. The interpreters, in such cases, make no attempt at all to improve upon the original rendering. Needless to add, all these speeches inspire is a procession of delegates heading towards the coffee lounge.
Those bound to their seats either by force of habit or through strict adherence to their briefs can be seen nodding away, barely awake. But to revert to the theme at hand, it is an accepted fact that some individuals talk more than others. The same is true of communities; some are talkative by nature, others are not. Even among the talkative ones, there exist distinct sub-categories. Some talk sparingly; others talk at leisure; still others talk with a purpose.
Call it what you will, it is the urge to talk – or the absence thereof – that sets communities apart. The Japanese Ambassador, a close friend, disclosed once that two or more Japanese could spend hours together without uttering a word, unless there was something worthwhile to talk about. Idle gossip, it would appear, is not the forte of the Japanese. In the olden days, for instance, the English race had a reputation for aloofness. So much so that it was reputed that two Englishmen (or women) would not exchange a word unless and until they had been properly introduced. In other words, presence of a third party was a prerequisite to get a conversation going. Not any third party, mind you, but one well acquainted with both the parties of the first order.
There are several countries in South and West Asia, the inhabitants of which enjoy long sessions of small talk. Such occasions are relished not for any serious purpose but merely because they afford opportunities to get things off one’s chest. The ‘qat’ sessions in Yemen are a case in point. People in these regions would be horrified if they were expected to spend extended periods without exchanging a word simply because there was nothing ‘worthwhile’ to talk about! A cursory glance at the idiosyncrasies may be relevant at this stage. Some peoples are mild and soft-spoken; others are rough and gruff.
Still others (like the French) convey as much through their hand gestures as their tongues. Different peoples express the same things in entirely different fashions. There are those, particularly in the Far East, for instance, who would go to ridiculous lengths to avoid having to saying ‘no’; even when they mean it.
This leads to embarrassing and, at times, to amusing situations. Here is the true story of a Pakistani officials’ delegation that visited Japan in the 1950s to negotiate an economic accord. After five days, Pakistan’s Ambassador in Tokyo was urgently summoned to the Japanese Foreign Office.
The Japanese wished to be informed as to why the Pakistani delegation insisted on calling again and again when the Japanese side had made it clear in the second session that no progress was possible. It turned out that the Japanese side (true to their national characteristic) had not found it expedient to say ‘no’ directly, since ‘they did not wish to hurt the sensitivities of their guests’. The aforementioned all goes to prove that international communication is not as simple as one would be led to believe. The mere services of an interpreter, however good, still may not suffice. Gives one food for thought that; does it not?
— The writer is a former Ambassador and former Assistant Secretary General of OIC.
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