The Impact of Translation in Diplomacy from a Narrative Theory Perspective
- Egehan Akçay
- Sep 25
- 6 min read
Diplomatic history is written not only through the words uttered by leaders but also through how those words are rendered by translators. A statement made by a leader does not solely address domestic audiences; once translated, it reaches the international sphere and shapes global public opinion. In this sense, translators are not merely conveyors of words. They are invisible actors who shape meanings, intentions, and even crises.
Translation is never detached from ideological, cultural, or political contexts. Thus, the translation of diplomatic discourse is not simply a linguistic transfer, but also an ethical responsibility and a process of narrative construction. As Mona Baker (2006, p. 1) emphasizes: “In a conflict-ridden and globalized world, translation is central to the ability of all parties to legitimize their version of events, especially in view of the fact that political and other types of conflict today are played out in the international arena and can no longer be resolved by appealing to local constituencies alone.”
Political leaders may seek to legitimize the loss of life and bloodshed that accompany war. In modern conflicts, this effort is not confined to domestic audiences but is strategically extended to international ones. Translation becomes a decisive factor in legitimizing such narratives, sustaining their impact across borders. It functions as one of the institutions of war itself, playing a crucial role for all sides, from warmongers to peace activists, in shaping the management of conflict.
Legitimacy Through Translation
In 2022, Russian President Vladimir Putin justified his military assault on Ukraine by invoking the term “denazification” (Putin, 2022, para. 62). While this word was translated into other languages with relative accuracy, the way it was conveyed in translation directly influenced how international audiences perceived it.
The nuance of expression is central here. For example, the phrase “military assault”, which I have used above, carries a specific narrative weight. Others may call the same action a “military intervention”, an “occupation”, or a “special operation”. Each term constructs a different level of legitimacy.
Translators navigating these choices are not only transferring words but also weighing potential reactions, political sensitivities, and the implications for international relations.
Thus, the rendering of “denazification” played a significant role in shaping the legitimacy of Putin’s narrative abroad. Translated literally, it evokes historical and ideological associations that resonate differently depending on the target audience. A translator may choose to retain the term as is, or add explanatory framing to clarify its implications. At this point, the traditional idea of the "invisible translator” comes into question, since such decisions have consequences that are not only linguistic but also political and ethical (Venuti, 2008).
A “Fatal” Translation
In 1945, toward the end of World War II, the Allies issued the Potsdam Declaration demanding Japan’s unconditional surrender. Japan’s response marked a turning point in diplomatic history. Prime Minister Kantaro Suzuki used the word mokusatsu. This Japanese term carries multiple possible meanings depending on the context. It is composed of two characters: 黙 (moku), meaning “silence” or “to remain quiet”, and 殺 (satsu), literally meaning “to kill”. Combined, mokusatsu can be interpreted metaphorically as “killing with silence”, but in everyday usage, it more commonly conveys “ignore”, “reject”, or “treat with silent contempt” (National Security Agency, n.d.).
This ambiguity created significant challenges in translation. The term was rendered into English as “ignore”, which was interpreted by Allied leaders as a categorical rejection of the ultimatum. Yet, some commentators argue that Suzuki may have intended a less decisive meaning, such as “refrained from all comments” or “under consideration.”
The consequences were devastating. The United States, interpreting the phrase as outright defiance, proceeded with the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, killing hundreds of thousands. While historical debates remain about whether mokusatsu alone determined this outcome, the case underscores the ethical weight borne by translators in high-stakes diplomacy.
A word’s layered meanings and tonal nuances cannot always be captured by direct translation; awareness of political and cultural implications is essential.
The Language of Autocrats
Examples throughout diplomatic history reveal that translation is far more than linguistic substitution; it constructs discourses and can alter the trajectory of crises. Diplomacy is not confined to official documents or public statements. In closed-door negotiations, the translator’s role is even more sensitive and decisive. In such contexts, the translator becomes not only a linguistic bridge but also a mediator of cultural codes, diplomatic strategies, and personal styles. Strikingly, professional interpreters are often employed even when both parties share a common language.
Consider again Russian President Vladimir Putin. He is said to know as many as ten languages and speaks English and German fluently, skills consistent with his 16 years as a KGB officer. Yet in diplomatic meetings and media appearances, he consistently uses Russian. This choice goes beyond personal comfort or nationalism; it is a strategic decision. By speaking Russian, Putin retains full control over his message.
Using an interpreter ensures that every nuance remains under his oversight and that he can shape the narrative at each stage of communication. The presence of an interpreter also reduces the spontaneity of dialogue, limiting the other party’s ability to intervene or redirect the conversation.
In this way, Putin’s linguistic choices reflect the broader strategies of authoritarian leaders to maintain power through controlled discourse.
While authoritarian leaders like Putin use interpreters strategically to retain control, contrasting cases reveal the risks of forgoing such mediation. President Volodymyr Zelensky, for instance, chose to speak English during his February 28, 2025, White House meeting —a decision that left him exposed to constant interruptions and, in the eyes of many observers, a degree of public humiliation (The Telegraph, 2025).
Speaking in his counterpart’s language placed him in a structurally weaker position, judged not only on his message but also on his fluency, and deprived him of the protected speaking time that interpretation protocols normally enforce. Had he used an interpreter, the encounter would have unfolded on more equal footing: turn-taking would have limited interruptions, his words would have been rendered smoothly and authoritatively, and the very act of speaking Ukrainian would have affirmed his national sovereignty. Although this might have reduced his immediate relatability to English-speaking audiences, it would almost certainly have enhanced his dignity, control, and diplomatic parity. Zelensky’s later decision to rely on professional interpreters in meetings with Trump and EU leaders underscores that language choice is not merely a matter of personal skill or confidence, but a strategic factor that can either reinforce authority or render a leader vulnerable.
Similarly, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu often delivers major statements in English. While this may appear to be a simple effort to reach international audiences, it also reflects his strategy of bypassing domestic criticism while imposing Israel’s narrative globally. However, such statements are frequently met with criticism in the context of Israel’s treatment of Palestinians. Netanyahu’s preference for English thus reveals both a pursuit of international legitimacy and an attempt to obscure authoritarian policies at home. Both leaders, despite their differing linguistic strategies, use language as a tool of control and narrative construction.
Language sustains power, manages crises, and shapes public opinion, and translation is at the heart of this process. Far from being neutral, it can escalate conflicts, legitimize regimes, or open pathways to peace. The mistranslation of mokusatsu in wartime Japan, Putin’s calculated reliance on interpreters, and Zelensky’s strategic use of English all show that narratives are constructed as much by translators as by the leaders themselves. As international crises grow ever more complex, the responsibility of navigating linguistic choices will continue to determine not only how history is remembered, but also how the future of global diplomacy is negotiated.
Translators, in this context, are not mere intermediaries but critical links in the strategic communication of authoritarian regimes—an echo of the old Italian adage, traduttore, traditore (“translator, traitor”).
Bibliography
Baker, M. (2006). Translation and Conflict: A Narrative Account. Routledge
Durin, C. (1995). The Translator’s Invisibility: A History of Translation. London and New York: Routledge.
The Kremlin. (2022, February 21). Address by the President of the Russian Federation. http://en.kremlin.ru/events/president/news/67843
National Security Agency. (n.d.). Mokusatsu: One Word, Two Lessons.
YouTube. (2024, July 11). Full argument: Trump-Zelensky White House meeting descends into shouting match [Video]. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v_kTNIYsFnQ
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