Lost in Translation? Climate Experts Aim to Break Language Barrier

Representation photo: A general view shows almost dried up Lake Zicksee near Sankt Andrae, as another heatwave is predicted for parts of the country, in Austria, August 12, 2022. REUTERS/Leonhard Foeger/
Representation photo: A general view shows almost dried up Lake Zicksee near Sankt Andrae, as another heatwave is predicted for parts of the country, in Austria, August 12, 2022. REUTERS/Leonhard Foeger/
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Lost in Translation? Climate Experts Aim to Break Language Barrier

Representation photo: A general view shows almost dried up Lake Zicksee near Sankt Andrae, as another heatwave is predicted for parts of the country, in Austria, August 12, 2022. REUTERS/Leonhard Foeger/
Representation photo: A general view shows almost dried up Lake Zicksee near Sankt Andrae, as another heatwave is predicted for parts of the country, in Austria, August 12, 2022. REUTERS/Leonhard Foeger/

Indian researcher Sabir Ahamed took a linguist's help to translate the term "just transition" into Bengali for his new study on the impact of coal mine closures on local people, as countries start to shift from fossil fuels to clean energy.
Ahamed settled on the somewhat poetic "kalo theke aalo", which literally means "from darkness to hope", after consulting the language expert for a phrase his target audience of coal communities in India's state of West Bengal would understand.
"It's catchy. It is not a direct translation but people do associate 'kalo' with coal so it gives an immediate context," said Ahamed, 45, who explained that there is no equivalent of just transition or even climate change in the Bengali language.
"Besides, I wanted to show there is hope, that there is a way out (of coal)," added Ahamed, who is based in Kolkata in eastern India and works with Pratichi India Trust, a research and advocacy group.
The concept of just transition is complex, even in English, Thomson Reuters Foundation said.

The UN's International Labor Organization (ILO) defines it as "greening the economy in a way that is as fair and inclusive as possible to everyone concerned, creating decent work opportunities and leaving no one behind".
Ahamed's research is among just a handful of efforts to make jargon-heavy climate change and energy transition dialogue - so far restricted to English-speaking think tanks and experts in India - accessible to people who will be impacted the most.
"What is the purpose of doing research if we cannot communicate the findings or the analysis to the communities or stakeholders?" Ahamed added. "I research for action."
India is the world's second-largest coal producer and at least 13 million people in the nation depend on the industry for a living, said a 2021 report by the National Foundation for India, a philanthropic organization focused on social justice.
Many are at risk of losing jobs and incomes as India builds its renewable energy capacity, just transition experts warn.
However, communication about the country's future move away from fossil fuels - and what this might entail - has yet to reach the people whose lives will be most affected, analysts and activists warned.
"The dialogue around just transition is limited to echo chambers," said Mayank Aggarwal, who heads the just transition vertical for Indian consulting firm Climate Trends.
Aggarwal has this year launched a podcast on just transition in Hindi and used social media platform X - formerly known as Twitter - to host debates about it in the language, which is widely spoken and understood in India's mining areas, he said.
"We want to reach out to people who actually matter, who don't know what just transition is. We want them to understand the issue and be an important stakeholder in the discussion."
The problem is far from unique to South Asia - even the UN Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) has tried to make its global findings easier to understand in recent years after criticism from scientists about jargon being a barrier.
MIND THE GAP
In recent months, think tanks have enlisted comics, poets and musicians to better communicate climate change threats to the public, with a broader aim of making the issue more accessible and widely understood as many people remain unaware.
Apart from spreading the knowledge more widely that extreme weather events such as heatwaves, droughts and cyclones are fueled by climate change, using local languages will also encourage people to demand political action, campaigners said.
While general community outreach by climate and energy NGOs and researchers in India and neighboring Bangladesh - where most people speak Bengali - is done in local languages, efforts are now being made to break down and translate technical terms.
In Bangladesh - which is considered one of the world's most climate-vulnerable nations - activist group YouthNet for Climate Justice has started posting Bengali commentary on social media about the reports of the IPCC, for example.
The activists, who have in the past campaigned for the cancellation of upcoming coal-based power plants in coastal areas, now want community radio stations to discuss climate and energy issues in local dialects of Bengali.
"Climate-related information hardly ever seeps into the community and we are working to bring it close to the people," said Sohanur Rahman, executive coordinator of YouthNet.
In a bid to reach more people in India's coal regions, the Just Transition Research Centre (JTRC) at the Indian Institute of Technology, Kanpur, rolled out four fellowships last year - with one in Hindi, one in Bengali and two in English.
Researcher Ahamed was awarded one of the fellowships - which aimed to assess the impact of mine closures on coal communities.
The next leg of the program will focus on renewable energy - and with new projects coming up in India's western and southern states, fellowships will be offered in languages spoken in those regions - Gujarati and Tamil - "to strengthen impact and reach" of research studies, the organizers said.
"Just transition is a complicated process, and it is important that coal communities understand its dynamics," said Pradip Swarnakar, an academic who heads the JTRC.
During recent visits to coal hubs in India, Context found jobs for local communities are shrinking as mines use outsourced workers - and that with no other skills, many people are resorting to illegally scavenging coal to eke out a living.
"Officials are discussing India's net-zero targets but there is no awareness about this among people, so they don't even demand skills for a future beyond coal," said Pinaki Roy, who teaches children in the coal hub of Jharia in eastern India.
LITERALLY SPEAKING
Climate change and just transition can often feel like distant and irrelevant problems to communities in India and Bangladesh because they are mainly presented and discussed in English, said activists who work with such people on the ground.
And literal translations of terms from English to local languages fail to convey the threat or persuade people to care and engage, according to climate experts and researchers.
Ismet Jarin of the Bangladesh-based NGO Awaj Foundation, which supports garment workers, said the country's fashion industry was becoming greener and more sustainable, but stressed that workers who have long been calling for better wages and conditions are unaware of how this shift would impact them.
"It is important that they can see the connection between climate and their rights, and we are working to convey the message to them in a language they understand," she said.
"We try to use examples that workers can relate to - of seasons changing, disasters and climate hazards becoming more frequent, how the fashion industry is adapting and how workers will cope as the world adjusts to these changes," Jarin added.
It's an aim shared by the Indian researcher Ahamed.
"The world is moving away from coal but there is no information about it at the ground level," he said.
"I want to reach out to (local communities) by writing in Bengali, and motivate others to do the same."



Residents of Beirut Suburbs Traumatized by Israeli Strikes

Smoke rises from an Israeli airstrike in the southern suburbs of Beirut, Lebanon, on Saturday. Photograph: Hussein Malla/AP
Smoke rises from an Israeli airstrike in the southern suburbs of Beirut, Lebanon, on Saturday. Photograph: Hussein Malla/AP
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Residents of Beirut Suburbs Traumatized by Israeli Strikes

Smoke rises from an Israeli airstrike in the southern suburbs of Beirut, Lebanon, on Saturday. Photograph: Hussein Malla/AP
Smoke rises from an Israeli airstrike in the southern suburbs of Beirut, Lebanon, on Saturday. Photograph: Hussein Malla/AP

When Israel began pounding the southern Beirut suburb of Dahiyeh in airstrikes that killed Lebanon's Hezbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah, the blasts were so powerful that a pregnant woman feared her baby could not withstand the force.

"I'm 8 months pregnant. The baby wasn't even moving in my stomach and I was so scared that something happened, God forbid. But finally I felt it," said Zahraa.

"God, the missiles we saw yesterday, the fires we saw. We could hear every single strike. We haven't even slept a wink. There's people sleeping in the streets or sleeping in their cars all around us."

Like other residents of Dahiyeh, the family -- Zahraa, her husband and two sons, aged 17 and 10 - quickly packed what they could and fled for other parts of the capital Beirut. The city shook with each explosion, Reuters reported.

Many of the schools used as shelters in the capital were already full with the tens of thousands of people who had fled southern Lebanon in recent days. Those newly displaced overnight said they had nowhere to go.

Hezbollah confirmed that Nasrallah was killed and vowed to continue the battle against Israel.

Nasrallah's death marks a heavy blow to Hezbollah.

It also brings more uncertainty to the inhabitants of Dahiyeh and those who have left for shelter in downtown Beirut and other parts of the city, after an escalation of the nearly one-year-old war between Israel and Iran-backed Hezbollah.

Ali Hussein Alaadin, a 28-year-old Dahiyeh resident, seemed lost after some of the heaviest Israeli bombardment of Beirut in decades. He barely had enough time to grab his father's medicine. One of the strikes hit a building just beside them.

"I don't even know where we are. We've been going around in circles all night. We've been calling NGOs and other people since the morning," he said, adding that aid groups would make constantly changing recommendations about where to seek refuge.

"We called everyone and they keep sending us around, either the number is off or busy or they would send us somewhere. Since 1:00 a.m. we've been in the streets."

Dalal Daher, who slept out in the open in Martyrs Square in downtown Beirut, said Lebanese lives were considered cheap as Israel carries out relentless strikes.

"If a paper plane flew over to Israel, it will cause endless turmoil. But for us, everyone is displaced and the whole world is silent about it, the United Nations and everyone is silent, as if we are not human beings," she said.