UlasanAnime.com – As individuals mature and cultivate the habit of self-reflection, life’s wisdom can crystallize into profound notions. This realization often feels like an epiphany, a sudden illumination. However, articulating these insights or conveying them to younger generations can be a challenging endeavor with a low success rate. To increase the chances of impact, it makes sense to broaden the audience, turning a 1% success rate into a 2% one by involving more people.
Setting aside the humorous analogy, I recently browsed the ANN Forums to spare you the effort, specifically Justin’s column discussing the debate between pro-sub and fan-sub. While it served as a good platform, the core concern seemed to revolve around complaints regarding translation quality. The ensuing discussion unfolded predictably, albeit civilly. To get to the more interesting points:
A number of professional freelance anime translators actively participated in the thread.
Some posts expressed opinions that were directly challenged by the original poster. For instance, one user griped about the distinction between “senpai” and “sempai.” Others insisted on the inclusion of honorifics in translations, even after several professional translators argued against it for precisely the opposite reasons. The discourse remained largely civil, with participants sharing their opinions and questions, often accompanied by personal anecdotes. My personal favorite was the “name” debate concerning the anime Noragami; such stories could easily be compiled into an entertaining read.
Initially, I was more intrigued by the discussion surrounding “sub quality” in general. While I’m not directly involved, websites dedicated to this topic, like the one mentioned, have existed for some time. After all, how else would fans decide which downloaded files are worth their time?
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To elaborate further, my perspective on this resembles my view on science. The pursuit of scientific knowledge is fundamentally about the exploration of ignorance. By “ignorance,” I mean its pure form, the opposite of knowledge, if knowledge is quantifiable. A subject or concept is either known or unknown. If it’s known, there’s little left to discover for someone seeking knowledge. A scientist is someone who possesses knowledge and actively seeks to uncover what remains unknown. This is the pursuit of ignorance. A fool, conversely, is someone who possesses knowledge but ceases to explore, unaware of what lies beyond their current understanding. Most fools are content with this limited scope; the most egregious ones believe they know everything, making no effort to verify their claims.
The sheer volume of human knowledge is immense. No single individual can grasp everything; at best, one can expect mastery within their specific field of expertise. These are often professionals engaged in groundbreaking research, having dedicated many years to their chosen domains. For newcomers to a field, it requires extensive study of existing knowledge to reach the frontier of collective information—the edge of human ignorance. In essence, it’s about ensuring one knows everything possible. However, the “cliff” analogy might be flawed; perhaps a bridge over the unknown vacuum is more fitting, considering how modern scientific research is often driven by external factors like public interest, commercial investment, ethical considerations, and specific agendas, rather than the organic nature of the subjects themselves.
This is also why learning is often equated with research. We are all born ignorant, and our knowledge is acquired through education, reading, or empirical experience. Since it’s impossible to know and learn everything, human minds process existing knowledge and make the best of it. Consequently, when individuals with limited understanding of Japanese language, anime, and translation engage in discussions, they often exhibit a profound ignorance, unaware of its extent, and proceed based on their incomplete information.
What’s more concerning, and this applies universally, are those who fail to recognize their own lack of awareness. This is compounded by the larger group who acknowledge their ignorance but lack the desire or interest to learn more.
What course of action should be taken in such situations? Perhaps the answer lies in the pragmatic, albeit controversial, inclusion of “-kun” in subtitles.
To be clear, I don’t fault individuals for their ignorance; it is a universal human condition. Mastering the Japanese language, like any extensive and well-studied subject, demands years of dedicated effort. It’s unreasonable to expect the average Westerner to possess deep insights into it. However, one should expect individuals to acknowledge the possibility of their own ignorance and temper their opinions accordingly. Alternatively, they might simply be immature, expressing whatever validates their feelings without regard for how they appear. I am all too familiar with this phenomenon.
And to be fair, this applies solely to opinions on Japanese translations. They might also hold opinions on English, believing their fluency makes them experts—after all, if 50% of translation skill is English, that makes them half-experts, right? The trajectory is predictable. Articles like this Answerman column, which discuss external factors influencing professional translations, often go unnoticed in the comments section, as many participants have already self-proclaimed themselves as knowledgeable. While they may not be true experts, that hasn’t deterred anyone in the current era.
This is why I believe that even though arguments and debates about fansubbing can feel like beating a dead horse, we should continue to do so. By engaging more people, perhaps one individual will gain some understanding, and our next debate will have a slightly higher chance of yielding meaningful results.
I haven’t even delved into arguments from a more self-centered perspective concerning “being entertained,” which I personally consider a distinct matter. This viewpoint suggests that their entertainment consumption should cater to their preferences without causing dissatisfaction, as they might find it jarring when a dub uses “-kun” while the translation omits it. Nor have I addressed the larger questions about the purpose of our persistent engagement with this topic. Perhaps I derive some satisfaction from it, I’m unsure. There are also legitimate criticisms regarding the quality of professional sub translations. However, until the noise level is reduced, it’s difficult to discern which complaints are truly valid. In other words, can we make the metaphor of beating this dead horse less relevant? It’s a humorous thought.
