Formal Equivalence vs. Dynamic Equivalence in the Craft of Translation

Centuries before linguist and Bible scholar Eugene Nida (1914-2011) introduced the theoretical framework that dominates today’s understanding of translation, countless volumes had already debated two fundamental approaches: formal equivalence, which is a faithful, word-for-word metaphrase, and dynamic equivalence, which focuses on functional, meaning-for-meaning paraphrase. These two methods represent a long-standing dichotomy within the field of translation.

(AI and the Craft of Translation.)

Nida, following in the footsteps of Cicero, Jerome, Maimonides, de León, and Dryden, cautioned against an overly rigid word-for-word approach. Effective translation requires more than transferring words from the source language to the target language; it demands sensitivity to the cultures connected to both. Historically, translation was primarily a practical activity, serving religious, commercial, or political needs—often intertwined with national interests. As such, formal translation was also subject to purists who conversely argued in favor of the opposite approach, which finds favor to this day due to the deceptive homogeneity of global consumer culture, a byproduct of five centuries of effective miscegenation.

The Italian saying, "traduttore, traditore," meaning "translator, traitor," captures the tension between these opposing views. This perception has been reinforced over time, with influential thinkers such as Walter Benjamin (1898-1940) declaring the notion of “perfect translation” an impossibility. ¹

Beyond highbrow philosophy, the practice of the craft, however, reveals a more nuanced, utilitarian approach I have come to call formal dynamism, by taking into consideration the following factors:

a. Form:

Let’s consider the source text. Is it prose, which follows the natural flow of speech, or verse, which pursues beauty, emotion, and musicality? In my experience, prose requires a balance of approximately 70% formal equivalence and 30% dynamic equivalence. In contrast, verse swings the proportion to 30% formal and 70% dynamic equivalence.

The acerbic Gilles Ménage (1613-1692) once criticized Nicolas d'Ablancourt's dynamic translations, asserting that "(dynamic translations)... remind me of a woman whom I greatly loved in Tours, who was beautiful but unfaithful," ² but there is no reason translations cannot be both sound and playful. The key is striking the best possible balance for each text according to its own nature.

b. Empathy:

Mastery of the target language is only the beginning of a translator’s journey. A successful translation will also be defined by our understanding of the prospective audience—ask your editor!—including its age and cultural milieu when trying to get concepts, meaning, and context across.

A successful translation also hinges on understanding the intended audience—ask your editor! It is essential to consider factors such as age and cultural background to convey concepts, meaning, and context effectively.

Thus, Steven Pressfield’s perennial advice to writers applies to translators too: “When you understand that nobody wants to read your shit, you develop empathy. You acquire the skill that is indispensable to all artists and entrepreneurs—the ability to switch back and forth in your imagination from your own point of view as writer/painter/seller to the point of view of your reader/gallery-goer/customer. You learn to ask yourself with every sentence and every phrase: Is this interesting? Is it fun or challenging or inventive? Am I giving the reader enough? Is she bored? Is she following where I want to lead her?” ³

c. Necessity:

Were this a self-help, pop psychology piece, “self” would be following “form” and “empathy,” arguing that for you to put yourself in someone else's shoes you need to love yourself first, but that would be beside the point.

My mother used to say “La necesidad tiene cara de hereje,” literally "necessity has the face of a heretic"—or, more dynamically, "necessity is the face of heresy." As a force exerted by circumstance—namely, not being dealt a silver spoon at childbirth—upon those of us in need of regular sustenance, shelter, and clothing, necessity is the main driving force behind most of our professional choices, meaning we normally take those jobs available to us rather than chase the muse.

Some of us will do our best to make good use of the former, bringing the latter into the task at hand. Others will seek work in other areas—ah, the dreaded day job!—to allow themselves the room to passionately pursue inspiration at their own pace. Neither option is inherently superior to the other, but both involve compromises stemming from considerations of income, family responsibilities, office politics (publishing bullpens also suffer from those), and more, which will see us betray the purity of “this little art”—chapeau, Ms. Briggs, chapeau! ⁴

Therefore, while ideally form should take precedence, followed by empathy and necessity, the reality of the craft will see necessity coming first—disregard this at your own peril!—so the matter becomes not if but to which degree a translator will inevitably become a traitor. That’s where my Benedict Arnold Scale comes into play.

To be continued…

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Craft of Translation translation

Diego Jourdan PereiraAuthor

Diego Jourdan Pereira writes, illustrates and packages trade books for general audiences—including storybooks for young readers, adult coloring books and puzzle books for seniors—while also translating Spanish language classics into English.