The theorisation of translation, whether by translators or academics, has leant on philosophical discourses far more than philosophers have seriously considered translation. In this highly asymmetric relationship, difficult texts fall into the hands of readers from more generalist spheres. One suspects that the philosophers would not always identify with what has been done in their name.
The authority function is of long standing. Jerome, for example, has long been cited as an authority for fidelity to both form and sense, since he actually condoned both modes of translating (one for sacred texts, the other for the rest). More famous is the case of Horace, whose 'nec verbo verbum' has repeatedly been used as an authoritative pronouncement both for literalism and (correctly, we believe) against it, down to quite recent dates (see Garcia Yebra, 1994: 48-64). What is perhaps more surprising is the extent to which the theorisation of translation has elevated such figures (a theologian translator, a poet) to philosopher-like authority, speaking with the wisdom of a distant past. One might attribute such levitation to the relative silence of properly philosophical discourses. Yet something similar still happens with figures such as Humboldt, Schleiermacher, Nietzsche, Benjamin and Sartre, who would certainly qualify as thinkers, theologians, translators and writers, but not always as philosophers in any professional sense. That is a status sometimes thrust upon them. In so doing, those who theorise translation too easily assume the consensus and possible coherence of philosophy. In many cases the authority has been created and projected by the translation theorists themselves.
A consequence of this 'boomerang' authority function is the fairly common practice of stringing together names that appear to be on one's side. Thinkers of various shades are cited because of the prestige they enjoy in the circles in which translation is being discussed. For instance, we find the American theorist Lawrence Venuti borrowing frames from the French Marxist Louis Althusser in 1986, revindicating Schleiermacher in 1991, bowing to Derrida and De Man in 1992, being Nietzschean in 1995 and working from Benjamin and Blanchot in 1995. Then in 1998, we find Venuti citing Lecercle's arguments that linguistics always leaves an untheorised 'remainder', a part of language that is not systematised. Venuti attaches this idea to Deleuze and Guattari's arguments for 'minority cultures', ideally created through translations that exploit linguistic remainders (see Venuti, 1998a, 1998b). Those references stimulate discussion on translation. Sometimes, however, they fare badly in the trip from philosophy, becoming falsely new and occasionally falling wide of the mark. The idea of the remainder, for example, can be found in earlier Marxist thinkers such as Lefebvre (1968: 24-45) or Pecheux (1975: 20-82); as a critique of linguistics it completely misses whole developments like the sociolinguistics of variation (since Labov) or descriptive text linguistics (since van Dijk). Nor are the sweeping critiques strictly necessary: Venuti's greater virtues lie in bringing political and social contexts to literary translation in English, and in his close relation with both the practice and the practitioners. Although his earlier texts can be read as an intellectual defence of foreignising translation strategies, broadly in the hermeneutic tradition, his translation practice has also espoused 'fluent translating' when suited to the particular project (Venuti in Wilcock, 2000: xvii). One should thus perhaps not look for doctrinal philosophical thought, but for a constantly engaged translatorial practice. Nevertheless, the philosophical references give weight and good tone when read by people distant from European traditions, especially those already adverse to positivist linguistics (following the Searle–Derrida debate, if not for other reasons). Venuti the translator has thus managed to develop his own thought while simultaneously manipulating the prestige of the foreign. Note that this particular prestige function is enhanced by the distance of the source: by citing French and German names, reducing them to a few lines or paragraphs, Venuti can at once simplify their contribution and become their privileged interpreter, channelling their authority.
The translation theorist as privileged reader of philosophy is by no means limited to the American literary academy. In France, Antoine Berman (1984) developed arguments in favour of foreignisation by drawing out the ideas of selected German Romantics, unabashedly elevating Humboldt and Schleiermacher to the status of philosophers, and passing in silence marginal German thinkers such as Hegel (cf. Pym, 1997). Berman could thus construe 'foreignising' as a clearly Germanic tradition, to be opposed to the French tradition of the belles infideles, leaving himself as the privileged point of contact. Berman was nevertheless able to turn his readings into a radical and stimulating project for an ethics of translation, based on the defence of otherness and the critique of ethnocentric textual practices. In the terminological and conceptual rigour of his project, one sees the imprint of Berman's academic training in philosophy. This is a tradition that also bears fruits in work by Jean-Rene Ladmiral (1979) —where meticulous attention is paid to the paradoxes of translation and its teaching — and in Alexis Nouss's (2001b) work on cultural metissage, which might be regarded as developing Berman's ethical project beyond the confines of translation.
Other cross-cultural references are not quite so open. Alfred Hirsch's editing of the collective volume Llbersetzung and Dekonstruktion (1997) opens with a translation of an early essay by Derrida (using the concept of translation to conceptualise the role of philosophy within the academy). However, 'deconstruction then turns out to be more or less everything that can be borrowed from Walter Benjamin (the points of contact are explicit in Hirsch, 1995), such that French thought on translation is actually shown to be German, and to have been so for quite some time. In this case the authority of foreign philosophical thought turns out to be a reminder of a 'forgotten code', something good that one had at home all along.
The authority of philosophy thus creates privileged readers and, through them, strangely coherent opposing traditions in the theorising of translation. Further translation theorists then tend to follow one tradition and simply not see the other. For example, a fine theoretical article on the non-binary options involved in translating dialogue (Lane-Mercer, 1997) refers to a whole French—American literary tradition simply by naming Berman and Venuti. However, the text makes no mention of how the same problems were dealt with in the Quinean tradition.