Keep it simple

I find it interesting when a word has more than one translation in another language. I’m not talking about synonyms, I’m talking about words with different (albeit somewhat related) meanings.

For example, the Italian word cavalleria can be translated in English either as cavalry (soldiers on horses) or chivalry (honourable behaviour). Another example would be the word pietà, which can mean either pity (feeling sorry for others) or piety (deep devotion).

It works the other way too. The English verb to know can be translated in Italian either as sapere (to know things but not people) or conoscere (to know people but not things), although there is some overlapping.

Those examples illustrate something which we all know, namely that fluency in another language can sometimes help you to understand your own language a little bit better too. 

(Although it’s by no means a necessary condition. You can still master your native language to a very high level without knowing any other language. And conversely you can speak several languages but all of them rather poorly.)

But can fluency in another language also help you to organise your thoughts better, to think with greater clarity?

A British classicist once said he found it helpful to think in Latin first and then translate that thought into English. When I read that at first I thought the guy was just showing off (and perhaps he was), but I think he made a valid point.

Quick digression. I sometimes find myself thinking in English, and sometimes in Italian. That makes me wonder whether thoughts exist independently of language or not.

In other words, do we think something in a sort of abstract way first, and then formulate that thought in words, or do thoughts only take shape through words and cannot exist without them? 

I’m not sure, but I lean towards the second option. I feel that the two (thoughts and words) are inextricably linked.

If that’s the case (and I’m not absolutely convinced that it is), then a thought will take shape in my head either in English or in Italian. Certainly not both, obviously, but probably (and I stress probably) not in a state that is neither English nor Italian either. I don’t know. 

Anyway, back to that British guy. I think that fluency in a second language, any language, apart from allowing you to communicate in that language, obviously, can also be a useful tool.

Personally, when it comes to literature (whether it’s fiction or non fiction), I’m a huge fan of simplicity. Which is not to say that I hate complexity. Far from it.

If you’re faced with a complex sentence, translating it can be helpful in better understanding it. (And I suspect that, for that specific purpose, the more distant the two languages are, like, I dunno, Polish and Vietnamese, the better.)

As we all know, when you translate something, it’s not just a matter of substituting word for word (although it does work sometimes with simple sentences). To translate something you have to understand it first. And if you can’t translate it (or at least not in a satisfying way), then maybe you didn’t really understand it. 

It’s like taking a machine apart and then putting it back together using different parts or materials and in a different order. The end result will be different and yet recognisable at the same time. But if you’re not able to put it back together, perhaps you should start over.

But here’s the problem. If you’re faced with a difficult text and you don’t understand it (I’m talking about instances where you understand every word but not the overall meaning), three things could be happening:

1. The text does make sense but it went straight over your head

2. The text doesn’t make sense but it’s not supposed to, for whatever reason

3. The text doesn’t actually make any sense, not even (deep down) to the person who wrote it, who thinks (wrongly) that it does, which can happen

Number one is fine. I accept that. Number two is fine too. The problem is number three. 

But how do we detect number three? If we read something and we don’t understand it, how do we know we’re in the presence of a number three situation and not a number one? 

Perhaps one can never be 100% sure, but maybe the so-called Feynman Technique can help shed some light. 

Complex ideas, if they make sense can, given some time and patience, be broken down into one or more simple ideas. Muddled, incoherent ones cannot.

According to Feynman, in order to fully understand something, to really grasp it, you have to imagine you're trying to explain it to a child. In other words, you have to try to express it in the simplest possible way. 

If you can’t, perhaps you didn’t really understand it. Or maybe, and that’s my point, there was nothing to understand to begin with. (Of course Feynman was talking about scientific theories which you already know to be true.) The Feynman Technique is, in itself, a simple and yet brilliant idea.

I’ll leave you with a fitting quote by Groucho Marx: “A child of five would understand this. Send somebody to fetch a child of five.”