THE Board of Deputies has complained to the BBC about the way its journalists handle the Arabic word “Yahūd”, which, the Board insists, means “Jews”, but which, in Gaza, is often translated as “Israelis”. They want the BBC to quote Palestinians as saying “The Jews are massacring us,” where journalists now translate such sentences as “Israel is massacring us.” Current translations whitewash the anti-Semitism of Palestinians, they claim.
This is an odd argument. Such a change would surely increase expressions of “Jew-hate” rather than reduce them. But it also rests on a fundamental misunderstanding of the way in which language is actually used. The unequivocal statement that “Yahūd” means “Jew” rests on modernist assumptions about linguistic objectivity. Philosophers — Aquinas, Wittgenstein, and the post-modernists — have exposed the flaws in using language in this way.
Words do not belong to either the speaker or the listener. Both bring to bear a patchwork of nuance, metaphor, symbols, euphemisms, omissions, and distortions that reflect power relationships. Language is anything but objective.
Because it refers to ethnicity and culture as well as religion, “Jew” is already laden with ambiguity. But the Arabic word “Yahūd” shifts its meaning across both history and geography. In Arab countries that had significant Jewish communities, across the Maghreb, it conveys the old sense of both ethnic and religious culture. This is also largely true in Jordan and Egypt — and, following the Abraham Accords, in Gulf states, where relations with Israel have improved. But, in Palestine, Lebanon, Syria, and Iraq, the word still holds the political sense that it acquired post-1948. There, “Jew”, “Israeli”, and “Zionist” can all indicate support for the policies of the Israeli government.
In the West, there is strong sensitivity to language choices in the aftermath of the Holocaust. That reflects our European history and also the routine acquaintance that we have with Jewish individuals and groups who espouse a wide range of views on Israel/Palestine. Here, linguistic distinctions between “Jew”, “Israeli”, and “Zionist” are meaningful, though often confusing.
But the lived experience of a woman in Gaza — her children massacred and her home obliterated — is entirely different. She encounters no Jews other than Israeli soldiers. Seasoned reporters, such as the BBC’s chief international correspondent, Lyse Doucet, after consulting language experts, have made the judgement that, when Gazans say “Jews”, they mean “Israelis”. That is the kind of editorial judgement that we want journalists on the spot to make.
There is another illuminating example. Palestinians routinely refer to those killed by the Israelis as a “shahīd” (martyr). To Westerners, a “martyr” is someone who dies, by choice, for a cause — but, in Arabic, “shahīd” means “one who dies in the path of Allah.” What this covers differs for members of Hamas, Fatah, and Arabs in wider Islamic culture. It may mean suicide bomber or soldier. But it may also be used simply as a mark of respect and remembrance. It can even be used to honour those who die from illness, childbirth, or drowning.
Translations can distort rather than clarify meaning. A word gathers meaning from the intentions of the speaker, as well as the assumptions of the listener. The Board of Deputies and, indeed, all of us must guard against political oversimplifications. Otherwise, we may undermine the very cause that we seek to protect.
