數萬民眾傾聽世界各國領導人講話。然后……發生了這樣一幕(或者說，在我們發現之前就已如此)。奧巴馬等那些世界名流中間站著一個穿著正裝、大腹便便的黑人。他是一位手語翻譯者。精通手語的人漸漸發現一樁怪事：這是個假翻譯，他在自創手語，手勢翻飛，卻沒有任何意義。

　　曼德拉追悼會上的“假翻譯”

　　翌日，官方調查透露，男子名叫詹特杰(Thamsanqa Jantjie)，現年34歲，是非洲人國民大會(ANC)從南非口譯員公司(South African Interpreters)雇來的。在接受約翰內斯堡《星報》(The Star)采訪時，詹特杰把他的行為歸咎于精神分裂突發——他正在接受這方面的治療——各種聲音和幻覺不斷。“我什么也做不了，只能孤獨地處在一個非常危險的境地中。”他說，“我試圖控制自己，不讓這個世界知道在發生著什么。我很抱歉。那就是我發現自己所在的處境。”不過，詹特杰頑固地堅稱，很滿意自己的表現。“完全滿意!完全滿意!我所做的一切，讓我覺得自己是手語冠軍。”

　　又過一天，事件再度驚人逆轉：媒體報道，自90年代中期，詹特杰至少被逮捕過五次，但據說他都逃脫了牢獄之災，原因在于他精神上無法承受審判。他被指控強奸罪、偷竊罪、入室盜竊罪和惡意破壞財產罪。最近一次觸犯法律是在2003年，他同時面對了謀殺、蓄意謀殺和綁架等罪名指控。

　　詹特杰辯稱自己患有精神分裂

　　人們對這個詭異橋段的反應既有調侃(出于莊重，人們不愿表露出來)，也有憤怒。當然，也有安全方面的顧慮：這樣一個人通過了所有的安檢，站到了離世界領導人這么近的位置，這是怎么做到的?潛藏在這些顧慮背后的感受是，詹特杰的出現是一種奇跡——仿佛不知他是從哪里冒出來的，或者是來自現實的另一個維度。這種感受得到進一步確認：各種聾啞組織出面證言，詹特杰的手語毫無意義，不符合任何已有的手語系統。這些消息好像是要消除人們的疑慮，證明他的手勢沒有傳達什么隱秘信息。那么如果他是在用一種未知的語言向外星人發信號呢?詹特杰特別的登臺似乎指向了這一點：他的手勢沒有意涵，也沒有跡象表明這是一個玩笑——他做出這些手勢時，冷靜得像機器人，不帶任何情感。

　　詹特杰的表現并非毫無意義——確切地說，是因為它沒有傳遞什么特定意義(那些手勢并無含義)。它直接表述的意義在于：假裝有意義。我們這些聽得見又不懂手語的人，雖然無法明白他的手勢，卻以為其有意義。這也就帶出了問題的關鍵：為聾啞人服務的手語翻譯者對于那些聽不到講話的人真的有意義嗎?他們不更像是為我們準備的嗎?手語翻譯者的存在讓我們(這些視聽正常的人)覺得好受些，覺得自己在做一件正確的事情，即照顧弱勢群體和殘障人士。

　　我記得，1990年斯洛文尼亞進行首次“自由”選舉時，一個左翼政黨的電視講話配備了一名手語翻譯者(一位溫和的年輕女士)來傳達信息。我們都知道，她的翻譯真正面向是不是聾啞人，而是我們這些普通的投票者。真正要傳達的信息是，這個政黨代表著邊緣群體和殘障人士。

　　這就像大型慈善活動并不是真的和癌癥患兒或是洪水災民有關，而是讓我們這些群眾意識到，我們在做某些偉大的事業，展現我們的團結一致。

　　現在我們可以看明白了，詹特杰的比劃為什么一被證明是無意義的，就產生了如此不可思議的后果——他讓我們正視了為聾啞人提供的手語服務的真諦：在人群中有沒有需要這些翻譯的聾啞人并不重要，重要的是，譯者在那兒是為了讓我們這些不懂手語的人感覺良好。

　　這也不是整個曼德拉追悼會的真相?權貴們所有的鱷魚眼淚都是一種自我慶祝，而詹特杰翻譯出了它們的實際含義：廢話。那些世界領導人在慶祝的是，真正的危機并未降臨;他們擔心當貧窮的南非黑人真的成為集體政治主體，這一危機將會爆發。他們是詹特杰所發信號的未列席接受者(the Absent One)，他傳遞的信息是：這些權貴其實并不關心你。通過他的假翻譯，詹特杰翻出了整個追悼會的虛假性。

　　(本文原載于《衛報》網站2013年12月16日，原標題The “fake” Mandela memorial interpreter said it all;觀察者網張苗鳳/譯)

　　翻頁請看英文原文

　　The “fake” Mandela memorial interpreter said it all

　　Slavoj ?i?ek

　　16 December 2013

　　Tens of thousands were listening to world leaders making statements. And then … it happened (or, rather, it was going on for some time before we noticed it). Standing alongside world dignitaries including Barack Obama was a rounded black man in formal attire, an interpreter for the deaf, translating the service into sign language. Those versed in sign language gradually became aware that something strange was going on: the man was a fake; he was making up his own signs; he was flapping his hands around, but there was no meaning in it.

　　A day later, the official inquiry disclosed that the man, Thamsanqa Jantjie, 34, was a qualified interpreter hired by the African National Congress from his firm South African Interpreters. In an interview with the Johannesburg newspaper the Star, Jantjie put his behaviour down to a sudden attack of schizophrenia, for which he takes medication: he had been hearing voices and hallucinating. "There was nothing I could do. I was alone in a very dangerous situation," he said. "I tried to control myself and not show the world what was going on. I am very sorry. It's the situation I found myself in." Jantjie nonetheless defiantly insisted that he is happy with his performance: "Absolutely! Absolutely. What I have been doing, I think I have been a champion of sign language."

　　Next day brought a new surprising twist: media reported that Jantjie has been arrested at least five times since the mid-1990s, but he allegedly dodged jail time because he was mentally unfit to stand trial. He was accused of rape, theft, housebreaking and malicious damage to property; his most recent brush with the law occurred in 2003 when he faced murder, attempted murder and kidnapping charges.

　　Reactions to this weird episode were a mixture of amusement (which was more and more suppressed as undignified) and outrage. There were, of course, security concerns: how was it possible, with all the control measures, for such a person to be in close proximity to world leaders? What lurked behind these concerns was the feeling that Thamsanqa Jantjie's appearance was a kind of miracle – as if he had popped up from nowhere, or from another dimension of reality. This feeling seemed further confirmed by the repeated assurances from deaf organisations that his signs had no meaning, that they corresponded to no existing sign language, as if to quell the suspicion that, maybe, there was some hidden message delivered through his gestures – what if he was signalling to aliens in an unknown language? Jantjie's very appearance seemed to point in this direction: there was no vivacity in his gestures, no traces of being involved in a practical joke – he was going through his gestures with expressionless, almost robotic calm.

　　Jantjie's performance was not meaningless – precisely because it delivered no particular meaning (the gestures were meaningless), it directly rendered meaning as such – the pretence of meaning. Those of us who hear well and do not understand sign language assumed that his gestures had meaning, although we were not able to understand them. And this brings us to the crux of the matter: are sign language translators for the deaf really meant for those who cannot hear the spoken word? Are they not much more intended for us – it makes us (who can hear) feel good to see the interpreter, giving us a satisfaction that we are doing the right thing, taking care of the underprivileged and hindered.

　　I remember how, in the first "free" elections in Slovenia in 1990, in a TV broadcast by one of the leftist parties, the politician delivering the message was accompanied by a sign language interpreter (a gentle young woman). We all knew that the true addressees of her translation were not the deaf but we, the ordinary voters: the true message was that the party stood for the marginalised and handicapped.

　　It was like great charity spectacles which are not really about children with cancer or flood victims, but about making us, the public, aware that we are doing something great, displaying solidarity.

　　Now we can see why Jantjie's gesticulations generated such an uncanny effect once it became clear that they were meaningless: what he confronted us with was the truth about sign language translations for the deaf – it doesn't really matter if there are any deaf people among the public who need the translation; the translator is there to make us, who do not understand sign language, feel good.

　　And was this also not the truth about the whole of the Mandela memorial ceremony? All the crocodile tears of the dignitaries were a self-congratulatory exercise, and Jangtjie translated them into what they effectively were: nonsense. What the world leaders were celebrating was the successful postponement of the true crisis which will explode when poor, black South Africans effectively become a collective political agent. They were the Absent One to whom Jantjie was signalling, and his message was: the dignitaries really don't care about you. Through his fake translation, Jantjie rendered palpable the fake of the entire ceremony.

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