Translate This Page

Recently I saw these words at the top right corner of my computer screen: “Translate this page.” My mind was deep in critical thought at the moment, and at first the message didn’t register. Momentarily, however, my eyes wandered back. “What?” Then I started laughing, realizing that Google was offering to translate this page into English. Here’s the humor: I was not reading a news site (or a hockey page) in a foreign language. I was utilizing an investment portfolio analytics tool, deep into examining the characteristics of a set of exchange traded funds (ETF’s) and the way they behaved relative to one another. This page was in plain English.

Or was it?

That’s when I began to feel the impact of the notation.

It’s a problem we all find familiar: someone speaks over our head, describing a topic in terms we just don’t know. The result is that the message leaves the speaker’s mouth, but never truly lands in the receiver’s ears. Any non-medical professional who’s received results from a medical test or even a blood draw knows this feeling. Does a diagnosis of acute dysmenorrhea indicate a fatal condition? Probably not; in plain English we know it as menstrual cramps. Or if a mechanic tells you that your diverter valve is bad, does this mean that the engine is totaled? We cannot all be expected to be masters of every human discipline. After all, division of labor is one of the characteristics which allowed early post-agrarian societies to thrive, right? We rely on the specialized knowledge of others to provide us with the expertise to manage all aspects of our increasingly technical and complex lives. We also rely on those talented, specialized carriers of such knowledge to be able to convey that content, sometimes very complex content, to us in ways which we can understand. And that entails a whole new set of skills, doesn’t it?

Our oldest child, Robin, is a linguistics major at UC Davis. Their passion for the subject is palpable. To ask Robin a question about linguistics and to watch their eyes light up and their brain accelerate to warp speed is to appreciate the broad set of skills which they bring to bear on answering the question. As their face lights up, you can see that they are excited that you’ve asked the question. The well of knowledge to tap is deep, and mastery of the topic seems as comfortable as breathing. The genius lies in what comes next. Excitement is replaced by calmness; they pause: how to describe this in terms which will be understood? What follows is a measured perspective spoken for the benefit of the uninitiated, such as myself, bringing a previously completely unknown or poorly understood topic to a quick level of general understanding.

While the ability to gather deep knowledge of a complex idea or topic requires high functioning in one area of the brain, distillation into understandable portions requires high functioning in another. Geniuses are not necessarily the most gifted speakers. The most vocal speakers are not always the most accomplished intellectuals. Example: politicians. (Sorry; I couldn’t help it.)

What does it take to speak in plain English?

  • A deep understanding of the content at hand. Doctors, for example, spend many years developing the profound level of expertise required to perform their profession.
  • An understanding of the material’s relevance. Not only why does this matter, but why should it matter to you?
  • Perspective. And strong language skills. This includes a vocabulary rich in synonyms and the ability to draw parallels. The ability to simplify.
  • Humility.
  • And a genuine desire to help someone else, to engender empowerment.

To a degree, the very communities which foster our development of deep understanding of complex ideas are the same ones which inhibit our ability to connect with everyone outside the community. It is this insular nature of a profession which can foster myopia through the constant repetition of industry jargon. While the fields of astrophysics or molecular biology may contain a daunting array of discipline-specific terms, it is our own field of finance which has mastered the practice of obfuscation. (Even that term sounds confusing.) What are “basis points,” or “coefficients of correlation”? (They’re simply hundredths of a percentage point, and the degree to which two things/investments behave similarly, respectively.) Why have financial professionals created and disseminated this sea of arcane vocabulary? To try to sound important; to try to make even the not-so-complex seem incomprehensible to the degree of needing to hire a professional to make sense of it. The fact that interstellar matter and human cells are vastly complex is one thing; making percentage points sound complicated is quite another. Is that really necessary? As a financial advisor, I found that Google’s offer to translate serves as a reminder of our role as interpreters. Our highest skill might just be as distillers, as simplifiers, as conduits to bring a foreign language into plain English. And to enjoy the confidence it brings to our clients.