I need a sworn translation
My first experience with sworn translation happened over 15 years ago. I needed a hospital report to be translated from Hebrew to English for an insurance company in Australia. I was in England at the time, Croydon to be precise, so I went looking in the phone book for translation companies in that area. I found one close by and went around to the translator’s house.
Come to think of it, that was probably my first experience with any type of translation. Which makes sense because most people only look for translators when they need something like a certificate or a report translated, when a sworn or certified translation is often required.
Now that I’m a translator, I’d know where to find a sworn translator without having to look in the phone book. In some places, I could even provide a sworn translation. Not in Spain, though. Here, as in many countries, to be able to provide sworn translations, you need to be officially certified, which requires jumping through at least a couple of bureaucratic hoops.
Sworn translation in Spain
My only first-hand experience with sworn translation in Spain to date has been when Spanish sworn translators have offered me jobs, either to translate or proofread documents that they were later going to check again and certify. I’ve never, though, ended up working with any of these translators as I’ve always been too busy, or we haven’t been able to agree on price. It’s very likely, of course, that I’ve done translations that were later certified through agencies, which is probably a fairly common practice.
Despite my lack of experience with it, I’d venture to say that the sworn-translation system in Spain could be improved. The idea is an admirable one, but I get the feeling that the public servants who administer it, in their attempts to nicely order the world (as is the wont of many a public servant), may have factored out too many of the realities of the world. And now their system has drifted away from reality itself.
Who’s up for a bit of hoop jumping?
So, why don’t I become a sworn translator? I’m a legal translator and, in Spain at least, being one does seem to go hand in hand with being a sworn translator. But, would it really be worth all the effort required to become one?
At the moment (the requirements do change from time to time), you have to pass an exam, have certain qualifications and, I think, be a Spanish citizen. They say that the exam is difficult, but, in my case, as I’m not from here and neither are my qualifications, the other two requirements may prove to be bigger obstacles, which might even, ironically, see me having to get a sworn translation or two.
And what about the benefits? You’d think I’d have more opportunities, but would they be better ones?
What’s a stamp worth?
It seems to me that when you need a sworn translation, what you really need is the stamp that goes on it; the translation is nearly a secondary consideration. The whole thing is often just a formality; no-one cares too much about the translation.
In the case of my hospital report, for instance, I just wanted to complete the insurance company’s formalities so that I could get my money. If I needed a translation with a stamp on it, so be it, I’d get one of them.
I didn’t actually care about what the translation said. I didn’t even bother to read it after picking it up. When I did have a look at it, months later in Australia, I was a little surprised to see that the report was about injuries that I’d never even had. It had nothing to do with what had happened to me; and the English was bad.
I still didn’t care that much. The insurance company had paid up by then and that was the main thing.
Hospital or translator error?
At the time, I thought the fiction that was my hospital report was the fault of the hospital, which was an extremely modern place—much more modern than all the hospitals I’ve seen in other countries (quite a few, it turns out). Everything looked new and shiny, and there was all manner of gadgetry next to the beds. But it was also a very chaotic place. They’d probably just mixed my report up with someone else’s, I’d thought.
Now that I know more about the world of translation, I think that my quite surreal report may have been the result of the translator translating out of a language that he wasn’t so familiar with. Although even that doesn’t explain the bad English. Of course, sworn translation is not regulated in the UK, so maybe this story just demonstrates that it should be.
Price, proximity or quality
I can’t remember how I chose that translator. But, as all I wanted was, in effect, a stamp, price was probably the main criterion. I was going to deliver the document to the translator in person, so proximity to where I was staying may also have been a factor. Either way, translation quality wasn’t a consideration.
So, would it be worth my while to become a sworn translator here in Spain? It’s different in the UK. There, you don’t have to become one; you just do the translation and swear that it’s authentic. The translation is effectively worth your word and how good it actually turns out to be. Hmm… more or less like a standard translation.
The rubber-stamp market: my stamp’s better than yours
In Spain, though, as it does require some effort to become a sworn translator, if all it did was turn me into a rubber-stamp seller, I’m not sure it’d be worth it.
I’d have to compete with other rubber-stamp sellers, and, as we’d all be selling exactly the same rubber stamp, when the quality of the translation wasn’t important—as in the case of my hospital report, we may end up competing mainly on price. And that is not what my translations are geared to. The idea is for people to need my work for its quality.
The question is, what percentage of the sworn translation market is just selling rubber stamps to wayward backpackers? Maybe there’s another part of that market that needs another kind of translation. It looks like I’ll have to investigate this one a little further. I’d also be interested to hear other people’s ideas and experiences. So please, let me know.
Anyway, before I start thinking about it too much, I probably should just concentrate on finishing my master’s off. Speaking of which, I should publish this and get back to that and that other thing called work, which is also calling me.
Images courtesy of saavem and Rotorhead.
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Hammered into austerity
Now it’s getting depressing. Every day, it seems, the Spanish government announces new austerity measures that promise to reduce our standard of living or law changes that spell a hemming in of our rights. Especially on Fridays. The biggest bombs are always dropped on Fridays.
Last Friday, for example, as well as approving cuts to health and education worth €10 billion, which include more expensive pharmaceuticals and higher university fees, the government passed a law that will allow it to choose the president of RTVE, Spain’s national public radio and television service, unilaterally.
Many fear this change will mark a return to the bad old days when partisan use of the state broadcaster by the government was the norm and, indeed, an expected and accepted privilege of holding office.
From a personal point of view, the current climate—the economy and the measures that are supposed to help it—doesn’t give you much reason to feel confident about the present, let alone the future.
Last night on a TV documentary, I saw that unemployment in the US in the great depression reached 25%. I thought, “Ahh, just like in Spain now”. But then they went on to talk about the New Deal and investment in public works to lower unemployment and drive growth, and that’s where the similarities ended: we’ve got the depression, and it’s probably big enough to be called ‘great’, but there’s no New Deal in sight.
OK, the situations are different, but we do need a little good news every now and then too.
The other day, someone on Twitter said that the last thing that she’d want to do right now is bring a child into the world. Maybe the comment was a little melodramatic and more just the result of having a bad day, but, the truth is, the current situation does make thoughts like this run through your head more often than they otherwise might.
Even if you’re doing OK, you start to think about the effect that all these measures and the economic situation itself is having and will have on those around you, your children and your parents especially, but also your family and friends in general and even the people you just see on TV, and that’s when it starts to get really depressing.
Come on, please, give us something to be happy about, and it better not just be a football match or talk of some dodgy casino park (AKA Eurovegas).