In Theory

Resolving Conflict Across Languages

Raymond Cohen

English is increasingly used as an indispensable interlanguage, the com-

mon third language of non-native speakers, in international negotiations.
In technical or commercial talks, where interlocutors share a stock of
expert knowledge, semantic problems are relatively easily overcome. In
emotive and complex negotiations to resolve protracted international con-
flict, however, intriguing problems of interpretation arise. Though
interlocutors speak in English, they are unlikely to think or work in Eng-
lish. Back home the political debate is conducted in the mother tongue.
Thus the semantic fields, the full range of meanings and connotations, of
key abstract concepts at the heart of the negotiation may not be conveyed
in translation. The ill-fated Syrian-Israeli peace talks are drawn upon to
exemplify the argument.

T he purpose of this brief essay is to begin an exploration of the role of lan-

guage in negotiations to resolve international conflict. It proceeds from the
simple premise that negotiation is conducted in language and is also about lan-
guage, usually, the drafting of a text. For a student of negotiation to examine
language is as logical as it is for an agronomist to study soil. In a recent article,
D’Amico and Rubinstein rightly argue that “the success of a negotiation pivots
on issues of language.” They point out that “Language provides a rich resource
for cultural research” and that the study of narratives enables one “to recover
Raymond Cohen is professor of international relations at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem,
Israel 91905. Email: msrcohen@pluto.mscc.huji.ac.il. Among his publications is the book, Negotiat-
ing Across Cultures: International Communication in an Interdependent World (Washington:
USIP Press, 1997).

0748-4526/01/0100-0017$19.50/0 © 2001 Plenum Publishing Corporation Negotiation Journal January 2001 17

metaphors that negotiators use to structure their experiences” (1999: 390). I
would like to go one step further by examining what happens when the inter-
locutors in a negotiation speak different mother tongues and use different
paradigms. This is often the case in international relations.
The following questions are posed: Do languages portray different ver-
sions of reality or functional equivalents of the same reality? Can semantic
confusions and misunderstandings arising from problems of interpretation
complicate the course and outcome of talks? Does the widespread adoption
of English as an interlanguage — a common tongue used by interlocutors for
whom it is not their native language — level the semantic playing field, effec-
tively eliminating language as a source of negotiating dissonance?
To illustrate my arguments, I shall draw on examples taken from the tri-
angular — and trilingual — negotiations for a resolution of the Israeli-Syrian
conflict that began at Madrid in October 1991 and continued until March
2000, when they were indefinitely suspended. The Syrian-Israeli negotiations
are a better example than the Palestinian-Israeli case because the dispute is
not perceived to be existential, involves sovereign states, and the formula
“territories for peace” is apparently acceptable to both sides.
Of course, many scholars and practitioners would dispute the relevance
of linguistic factors in international negotiations. When there are common
interests in an agreement, a shared commitment to succeed, they would
maintain, communication problems are of marginal significance. Moreover,
various mechanisms help to bridge any semantic gap. These would include
the use of English (or some other tongue) as an interlanguage; resort to inter-
preters and translators; the professionalism of experts “speaking a common
language”; and the existence of an accepted framework of forms and con-
cepts. Thus, the naysayers might argue, even though negotiators may speak
different native languages and obviously have different viewpoints, they can
usually agree on the nuts and bolts of negotiating.
Corroboration for this view is seemingly provided by several obvious
facts. In most international negotiations, there are common structural fea-
tures such as contacts, delegations, envoys, meetings, conferences, talks,
proposals, conditions, initiatives, arguments, demands, persuasion, dead-
locks, solutions, commitments, guarantees, understandings, documents,
agreements, treaties, signings, and ratifications. This surely demonstrates the
existence of a universal negotiating model. Indeed, one would expect no
less from a global international system based on long traditions, common
institutions (like the United Nations), and treaties such as the Vienna Con-
ventions on Diplomatic Relations. Finally and demonstrably, international
agreements have been and are negotiated all the time across languages.
I shall argue, however, that this impressive consensus on the mechanics
of negotiating conceals subtle, yet far-reaching differences in the way
abstract political and ethical concepts, as opposed to practical instruments,
may be grasped. These semantic discrepancies, or gaps, are particularly
salient in negotiations touching on core questions of identity, honor, sover-

18 Raymond Cohen Resolving Conflict Across Languages

eignty, status, and faith. Negotiations on low political and routine or techni-
cal issues would not usually be affected.
Semantic gaps are consequential because negotiation is, in essence, a
coordination game, an interdependent activity requiring the participants to
synchronize moves in order to arrive at an intersubjective reality. To do so,
they should communicate mutually intelligible messages, read between the
lines intuiting implicit meanings, and reach agreements that satisfy mutual
needs.
Semantic Gaps
The case for the importance of linguistic differences rests on the theory that
every language conveys a unique representation of the world, so that seman-
tic gaps (or antinomies) arise when different depictions of reality and
prescriptions of behavior confront each other. Moslems talks of Haram al-
Sharif, the Noble Sanctuary, and mean the great Jerusalem Mosques, the
place from which Mohammed ascended to heaven, the third holiest site in
Islam. Talking of the identical hilltop, Jews refer to Har Habayit, the Temple
Mount, and mean the Temples of Solomon and Herod, Mount Zion, the cen-
ter of the Jewish theological universe. Neither sees the other’s reality. There
is no satisfactory English term privileging neither side, except the generic
“Holy Places.”
Between related languages within a single language family (e.g., English
and French) the semantic gap may not be very wide, but across language
families (e.g., English and Arabic or Hebrew) profound antinomies appear.
Even so, French speakers are insistent that their tongue does reflect a special
sensibility and view of the world, as well as an inherent value. This is why
they regard the incursion of English with abhorrence as a threat to their
culture.
The Sapir-Whorf hypothesis is the best-known theory about the influ-
ence of language on cognition. In its original version, it exaggeratedly
presented language as a cognitive straitjacket, compelling a certain way of
constructing reality (Mandelbaum 1963: 7, 162; Carroll 1956). This over-
stated version has been theoretically and experimentally discredited (e.g.,
Pinker1994: Chap. 5). In a modified form, the hypothesis credibly claims
that language guides and somewhat constrains, without determining, per-
ception and cognition (Asher 1994: 3661). This corresponds with my own
personal experience of speaking and reading languages as well as that of
multilingual authors (e.g., Steiner 1992; Hoffman 1990).
From the perspective of the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, words and their
equivalents across languages are not just interchangeable labels denoting
some given immutable feature of an objective “reality” but keys opening the
door onto nuanced interpretations of a socially configured world. A stone as
an object can be recognized by speakers of all languages at a nonlinguistic
level. They can kick it, throw it in a pond, or use it to crack a nut. The
moment they name it and introduce language into the game, the “stone”

Negotiation Journal January 2001 19

ceases to be just an object but becomes also a cultural artifact, an item of
communicable shared interest, whether a gemstone, slingshot, gravestone,
corner stone, boundary marker, and so on. The word, representing the arti-
fact, is a signifier defined by the needs and memories of the language
community within which it is articulated. It is capable of evoking and com-
municating, from one person to another, and from one generation to the
next, a unique range of specialized references, resonances, and associations.
The mother tongue in some ways is the glue binding a society together by
providing it with a common universe of meanings. Hence ethnic fault lines
often correspond with linguistic boundaries. Language defines community;
ethnic identity is expressed through language.
Before elaborating on semantic distinctions and their implications, an
essential point about the transfer of significance across languages should be
noted: Speakers’ grasp of an idea is shaped by their linguistic point of depar-
ture, the original baseline meaning of the term in their mother tongue. This
implies that one’s understanding of the Jerusalem Holy Places depends on
where one starts — English, Arabic, or Hebrew. Each language will set up its
own peculiar set of expectations about the concept for the native speaker.
For the Arabic speaker, it is very difficult, perhaps impossible, to think of
Haram al-Sharif as Har Habayit with all this implies (and the reverse for
the Hebrew speaker). Fluent bilingual speakers will be free from this condi-
tioning, able to shift their point of reference, but non-native speakers may
not even be conscious of the bias. Indeed, one’s mother tongue perspective,
the baseline for semantic expectations, constitutes the common sense mean-
ing of the term and is therefore particularly resistant to modification.
Linguistic gaps arise from several kinds of discrepancies. The most
important of these are plain differences of meaning. Words tend to be poly-
semous, that is, they have several meanings. Across languages these spreads
of meaning, or semantic fields, may overlap in certain places, but fail to
coincide elsewhere. In a two-language model, say English and Hebrew, the
assumption of identity of meaning across languages, made by non-bilingual
speakers and computers, results in the disparity between words being over-
looked. Figure One is a depiction of how the English word “peace” and its
conventional Hebrew translation, shalom, differ in important respects.

Figure One
Fundamental Differences Between Peace and Shalom

Peace

Shalom

20 Raymond Cohen Resolving Conflict Across Languages

“Peace” has as its principal meanings a freedom from war, the treaty termi-
nating war, and tranquility. It also means freedom from civil commotion,
inner calmness, and, now defunct, greetings. Shalom, from a Semitic root
meaning “whole,” commonly means greetings, friendly relations, reconcilia-
tion, and safety. It also means a formal end of war and domestic well-being.
Thus shalom has central meanings absent from “peace,” namely, greetings
and safety. Both words mean an absence of war, but the Hebrew adds a
sense of positive reconciliation and friendship.
In a three-language situation —- where two non-English speakers, say,
an Israeli and an Arab —- communicate using English as an interlanguage,
the situation becomes more complicated. In this situation, English may fully
convey the sense of the interlocutors where there is full semantic overlap of
the three languages. This will occur where technical terms or objects are
being referred to. A second possibility is that there may be only partial over-
lap, essentially as in Figure Two. Just where the terms coincide semantically
will shift from case to case. The interlocutors may successfully transfer
meaning through the mediation of the third language, but cases may arise
when the Hebrew-English overlap does not coincide with the Arabic-English
overlap.

Figure Two
A Partial Overlap of Meanings

Salaam Shalom

Peace

The Arabic salaam means wholeness, greetings, freedom from war, well-
being, and safety. Al-Salaam is one of the names of God. So it shares some
meanings with Hebrew and some with English. The Arabic word has impor-
tant attributes absent from “peace,” such as wholeness and divinity. While it
is closer to shalom, it lacks the important Hebrew notion that peace
between nations rests on friendship and reconciliation. Arabic has a com-
pletely different term for reconciliation, sulh, which also covers peace at the
level of social groups. “Peace” does not necessarily entail reconciliation
either. English can use “reconciliation” for this idea, whereas reconciliation
is inherent in shalom.
Figure Three exemplifies a situation of dissonance where the interlan-
guage partly overlaps with the languages of the interlocutors but not in the
same places. In this situation, the interlanguage acts as a false, not a true

Negotiation Journal January 2001 21

friend. Mario Liverani, the great Assyriologist, first discussed this problem in
a seminal study of the original interlanguage — Akkadian — as employed,
ironically, by ancient Egyptians and Canaanites (1983: 50-51).

Figure Three
Interlanguage Dissonance

Sulh Recon- Piyyus

ciliation

In this example, the key English language word “reconciliation” must be

used by Arabic and Hebrew speakers, if only because it is a pivotal notion for
American negotiators engaged in a peace process. Americans assume, for
religious-cultural reasons, that a conflict cannot be resolved without recon-
ciliation between enemies. However, the Hebrew and Arabic terms
conventionally given for reconciliation do not coincide with each other and
only partially with the English word. “Reconciliation,” in the sense used in a
conflict resolution context, means something like: (1) a settlement of differ-
ences between individuals, groups, and nations; and (2) ending an
estrangement or transforming enemies into friends through a meeting of
hearts and minds. In Arabic, the equivalent word is sulh. This refers to: (1)
conciliation, a settlement of differences, especially between groups; and (2)
the restored state of communal peace and harmony. An inner change of
heart is less important in practice than musalaha, the ritual display of mak-
ing up (Antoun 1997; Irani and Fink 1998; Irani 1999). Sulh emerges from
the dynamics of a collectivist society where clan and sect affiliation are all-
important and even a quarrel between individuals acquires group
significance.
Hebrew has some difficulty translating “reconciliation,” since settlement
of differences is usually translated by the key polysemous word pshara,
meaning both “compromise” and “agreement.” The concept of ending
estrangement in the Christian sense is only used for relations between indi-
viduals and God (tshuva) or man and wife (shlom bayit). For reconciliation
between enemies, the dictionary gives piyyus but this is an unsatisfactory
translation meaning “appeasing someone aggrieved by uttering placatory
words,” and lacks the notion of a change of heart. It also means appeasement
in the negative 1930s sense. The functional equivalent of “reconciliation”
and sulh is actually shalom, already discussed. But peace and reconciliation,
which are brought together in Hebrew, are kept apart in English. The upshot
of this is that employment of “reconciliation” by Israelis and Arabs confuses
rather than clarifies matters. In Figure Three, the English speaker says “rec-
onciliation” and thinks of ending estrangement. The Hebrew speaker

22 Raymond Cohen Resolving Conflict Across Languages

understands by that piyyus, appeasement or placation. In turn, the Arabic
speaker thinks sulh, the restoration of communal peace and harmony.
Besides discrepancies of meaning, words and their equivalents also dif-
fer in consequential ways not taken account of by dictionaries but certainly
affecting their significance. These shades of meaning derive from variations
in usage, associations, and value. By usage, I refer to the frequency of words
in everyday speech, the contexts in which they are employed and by whom,
and how or why they are changing. Thus “peace” is essentially a specialized
word used in English in political contexts or by chaplains in sermons. In con-
trast, both shalom and salaam are expressions used a hundred times a day
to inquire about someone’s health and well-being or just to say hello. Piyyus
is a rare word in Hebrew because the redemptive idea of transforming ene-
mies into friends (as opposed to resolving a disagreement pragmatically) is
not of central concern in the culture. Sulh is of great interest in Arabic soci-
ety because failure to dissipate communal tension risks groups taking the
law into their own hands and exacting revenge for perceived aspersions to
their honor.
By associations, I refer to the aureole of cultural, religious, historical,
and ideological impressions surrounding a word. For the native speaker of a
language, many words evoke a set of resonances which powerfully affect
their meaning. Where a central theme of social and national life is con-
cerned, such as negotiation or conflict resolution, historical reverberations
are inevitable. Piyyus, meaning appeasement as well as “reconciliation” of a
peculiar kind, cannot be used without evoking Neville Chamberlain’s dis-
credited Munich policy of buying time at Czech expense. Note that Israelis
identify with the Czech victims, not the French or British appeasers. Piyyus
is therefore not much of a rallying cry for Israeli public opinion. Contrast this
with the potency of the idea of “reconciliation,” strikingly put into practice
by the United States with its former enemies Germany and Japan after World
War II.
The same principle can even apply to technical negotiating terms. “Del-
egation” is a neutral word in English denoting a group of people authorized
to represent their country in a diplomatic or cultural capacity. The Arab
equivalent, wafd, is an evocative term connected to the Arab tradition of
communal visiting. A wafd can be a delegation of reparation and conciliation
following a domestic feud, or a group bringing condolences or congratula-
tions on some family occasion. Wafd goes back to the very origins of Islam
and the forging of links between Moslem co-religionists. The 9th year of the
Islamic calendar is known as the year of wufud (plural of wafd) because it
was then that Islam began to spread throughout the Arabian Peninsula, with
delegations coming to the Prophet Mohammed to swear allegiance. Today
delegations from all over the Arab World are still sent out to express loyalty
or request support. Delegations from poor Arab communities visit the
wealthy countries of the Persian Gulf to pay their respects and ask for aid.
Thus wafd evokes Arab solidarity, implying something going beyond narrow

Negotiation Journal January 2001 23

national interests. At the same time, a hierarchical dimension undeniably
enters the use of the word, as there remains a hint of inequality between the
supplicant, visiting delegation and the receiving host.
It should also be observed that the value of terms differs across lan-
guages, meaning that equivalent words may have opposite ethical charges.
What is a good thing in one language is a bad thing in another. Or a concept
may be value-free in one language while possessing a negative value in
another. Since words reflect deep cultural and religious values, this is per-
haps not surprising. Yet this distinction is never commented on in
dictionaries, even though it has far-reaching implications for communication
across languages in general and negotiation in particular.
Across Arabic, English, and Hebrew there are several important negoti-
ating terms of this kind. In Modern English, “concession” is a technical term
understood as a central and inevitable element in a negotiation, a means to
an end. It is simply taken for granted that concessions are part and parcel of
a negotiation. In Hebrew, the equivalent word vitur has a pejorative hint
about it and has several significant additional senses (including abdication,
surrender, and renunciation). In Israeli negotiations with Arab states, a nego-
tiating offer is often characterized as involving a vitur machiv, a painful
concession. However, this negative aspect is balanced by the understanding
that a vitur is a necessary sacrifice, like a pawn in chess. In Arabic, tanazul
comes from a root meaning to dismount from a horse. It has an emphatically
derogatory meaning, tinged with shame, explicitly conveying the idea of a
climb down or the surrender of a right.
Contrasting Discourses of Negotiation
Negotiation has long been a common notion in such Standard Average Euro-
pean languages as Italian, French, Dutch, and English. For centuries, the
peoples of Europe saw themselves forming a single Christian civilization
drawing on shared traditions of religion, ethics, and diplomacy. This was
reflected in language and in other symbolic systems central to Western cul-
ture, including music, art, architecture, and fashion. Arabic and Hebrew,
drawing on concepts that predate Western civilization by millennia (originat-
ing in the ancient Near East of Sargon and Hammurabi), indeed concur in
many of those ideas. Negotiation, in the sense of bargaining for exchange,
appears to be a generic mode of human behavior. Some key assumptions,
though, emerged specifically in Europe after the Renaissance (Mastenbroek
1999). They related particularly to the extension of the pragmatic bourgeois
ethic from the realm of trade to the realm of diplomacy. In indigenous Mid-
dle Eastern languages other premises and imperatives (such as honor) take
their place.
“Negotiation” derives from the Latin negotiare meaning “to do busi-
ness, trade, deal.” The original commercial flavor is retained in modern
European languages. For instance, negozio in Italian is a shop, négociant in
French is a wholesaler, negoziant in German is a merchant, and so on.

24 Raymond Cohen Resolving Conflict Across Languages

“Negotiate,” meaning “to traffic in goods,” is found in Seventeenth and Eigh-
teenth Century English texts. In contemporary English, “negotiate” evokes a
can-do, commercial world in which pragmatic individuals make competing
offers before arriving at a mutually satisfactory arrangement. The ideas of dis-
cussion, business, and adroit management are present in equal proportions.
Thus The Oxford English Dictionary gives the following definitions of the
word: 1. “To hold communication or conference (with another) for the pur-
pose of arranging some matter by mutual agreement; to discuss a matter
with a view to some settlement or compromise.” 2. “To deal with, manage,
or conduct (a matter or affair, etc., requiring some skill or consideration).” 3.
“To convert into cash or notes.” 4. “To deal with, carry out, as a business or
monetary transaction.” 5. “To succeed in crossing, getting over, round, or
through (an obstacle etc.) by skill or dexterity” (Simpson and Weiner 1989).
The fact that “negotiate” covers a semantic field that includes bargain-
ing, debate, and overcoming difficulties is extremely significant. English
speakers take for granted that negotiation involves a mutual give-and-take,
that its outcome will involve compromise, and that it is highly desirable for
the interlocutors to cooperate in the joint search for a solution to problems
that arise. “This is negotiable” in English means that there is flexibility in a
negotiating position and that concessions are to be expected. Compromise,
mutual concessions, and reciprocity are inseparable from negotiating in the
English-speaking world. According to the English language paradigm of nego-
tiation, it is the very process of give-and-take that legitimizes the outcome.
One often hears it said that “if neither side is entirely satisfied, then clearly
the agreement must be a fair one.” Obviously, individual instances of conces-
sion and compromise might be ill advised and one-sided but there is no
doubt that they are generally assumed to be indispensable as principles of
conduct. That they are viewed with favor is demonstrated by the tendency
in English to elevate “compromise,” “give-and-take,” and “reciprocity” into
reified virtues in their own right. “What is needed,” we hear from Western
mediators active in some Middle Eastern dispute, “is a spirit of compromise
and give-and-take.”
“Compromise,” pshara, is the key Hebrew negotiating word, meaning
“compromise,” “agreement,” and “arbitral award.” This polysemy is of the
essence, implying that Hebrew speakers are conditioned to identify agree-
ment with compromise, and to act accordingly. “The power of pshara is
greater than a legal judgment,” the Rabbis tell us (Tractate Sanhedrin, 5b).
Compromise is better than justice. Thus pshara is seen as a supreme good.
The Hebrew apotheosis of compromise sets up a crucial dislocation
with Arabic, of far-reaching implications for negotiation between Israelis and
Arabs. In Arabic ‘adl, Justice, and haqq, Truth and Right, are the supreme
goods and compromise is not at all a virtue. Indeed there is no single term
for the concept. The synonym hal wasat, literally “middle solution,” was
coined as an approximate translation of “compromise.” It is a “thin” expres-
sion without cultural resonance. A call to the spirit of the middle solution is

Negotiation Journal January 2001 25

without meaning in Arabic. Can there be a middle way between right and
wrong?
Negotiation in Hebrew is masa umatan, originally “trade.” The words,
literally meaning “carrying and giving,” convey the give-and-take of traders
doing business. By the same logic as in English, it has come to mean the
generic activity of commercial and noncommercial negotiating. The to-and-
fro structure of the expression (reproduced in all the term’s synonyms)
reflects the assumption that masa umatan is an active affair of offers and
counteroffers, a sort of intellectual ping pong.
The special flavor of the Hebrew language paradigm is best conveyed
by the Aramaic synonym shakla vetarya. (Much of the Talmud is in Aramaic
and many Aramaic words have come into Hebrew.) This term is not in every-
day use in Modern Hebrew but is familiar to educated Israelis and
encapsulates a key cultural idea. It refers to the vigorous back-and-forth,
dialectical discussion of a Talmudic text by two scholars. Shakla vetarya
implies spirited debate, attention to fine points of language, cross-referenc-
ing to other texts. Israeli is a highly litigious society and this is precisely how
lawyers in Israel negotiate contracts. Since many Israeli negotiators have a
legal or religious background, something of this scholastic, lawyerly heritage
has rubbed off on the Israeli negotiating tradition.
When Hebrew wishes to suggest negotiation in the pejorative sense of
driving a hard bargain it uses the term mekach umimcar. If this is what hap-
pens in a used car dealer’s parking lot, masa umatan is what prestigious
individuals such as lawyers, officials, or business executives do when they
discuss a project, draw up a contract, or arrive at a political agreement. On
the whole, masa umatan suggests serious people conducting their mutual
affairs around a table in a rather structured, formal manner.
In the Arabic negotiating tradition, a clearer distinction is drawn than in
either English or Hebrew between weighty discussions between authorized
representatives, in which one set of rules and expectations apply, and bar-
gaining in the market over quantifiable commodities, in which other
groundrules are valid. This is reflected in Arabic by the use of two quite sep-
arate terms, mufawadat, “negotiation” and musawama, “bargaining.”
Mufawadat does not have commercial associations and is derived from a
root possessing the sense of authorizing, delegating, and entrusting. This is
the term used for political negotiations, a situation in which representatives
of states or organizations meet to confer in a formal way. In mufawadat,
moreover, the mercantile ethic of give-and-take that characterizes Western
negotiating is absent. Honor and face-saving are paramount. Arabic has diffi-
culty translating the word “pragmatic,” viewing affairs of state as discussions
of matters of principle. In negotiations to resolve conflict, it would seem
very strange to favor the claims of expediency over justice or rights, or to
start from details rather than principles.

26 Raymond Cohen Resolving Conflict Across Languages

 Musawama, in contrast, can only mean bargaining over the price of
goods. Something is on sale and the buyer and seller disagree over the terms
of the transaction. They engage in musawama to reach a mutually accept-
able deal. Honor is not engaged. Musawama is not used to characterize
formal negotiations over important political matters, the realm of mufawa-
dat. Where musawama is used, it suggests undignified and not very
edifying market trading, something that dignitaries avoid. The sense of huck-
stering leads on to another negative connotation, namely, that the bargainers
are trying to trick or outsmart each other. If mufawadat suggests the digni-
fied and high-minded discussions by statesmen of matters of principle,
musawama suggests petty-minded haggling.
Problems of Language in Syrian-Israeli Negotiations
The likely reaction of many readers who have come this far will be one
of skepticism. From childhood, we intuitively hold a picture theory of
language, the idea that words label objects “out there.” Since there must be
a single “out there,” it follows that different languages are simply customized
variants of the same model. Reliance on translated texts that seem to do
the job quite adequately (though how would we know?) reinforces this
assumption.
The only way to overcome objections is to demonstrate that linguistic
differences matter and can have a profound influence on conflict resolution
in situations on the ground. In this section, I shall show that semantic gaps
played a significant part in the failure of recent Syrian-Israeli negotiations.
These talks were mainly conducted in English, a language the diplomats, but
not all the politicians, spoke reasonably well. President Hafiz al-Assad, the
key Syrian player, did not speak English at all. More to the point is the fact
that, within the respective Israeli and Syrian delegations, governments, and
publics, negotiating positions were evolved, debated, justified, formulated,
reported, and discussed in Hebrew and Arabic, not English. In other words,
while frontal contacts between the protagonists were in English, the
processes of decision making and consultation, within which negotiations
were embedded, were not. Indeed, even when they spoke in English, the
interlocutors were mostly formulating their thoughts in Hebrew or Arabic.
On technical issues involving experts, there was little discernible mis-
understanding between Israelis and Syrians. International lawyers well
understood what easement, riparian rights, and diplomatic relations
entailed. Military officers, too, were in substantial professional agreement
about the meaning and implications of demilitarized zones, weapons capabil-
ities, and the logistics of mobilization for war. The devil was in the contested
interpretations of key abstract notions. Three examples that illustrate those
contested interpretations follow.
A crucial dispute, from first to last, was over the very nature of negotia-
tion. Following the failure of the make-or-break Geneva summit of 26 March

Negotiation Journal January 2001 27

2000 between President Clinton and President Assad, Secretary of State
Madeleine Albright gave the “normative” English language view. She com-
mented that everyone had to understand “that if an agreement is to be
reached, it must address each side’s vital needs, but that no one can get a
hundred percent. Indeed, this is the very nature of the give-and-take that
comprise negotiations” (Albright 2000). Clinton explained that it was not
enough for Assad to reject Israel’s proposals out of hand. He was bound to
come up with a “specific and comprehensive response on all the issues.”
Clinton added, “If we’re going to have a negotiation, I don’t think it’s enough
to say, I don’t like your position, come back and see me when I like your
position.” (Clinton 2000).
This more or less precisely corresponded to the Israeli view of what the
masa umatan had to entail. As negotiations dragged on inconclusively dur-
ing the Rabin years (1992-95), the Israeli Prime Minister wondered “if he had
a genuine partner to this negotiation.” Was President Assad ready “to agree to
give-and-take, to accept at least some of Israel’s conditions?” (Ma’ariv 1996).
Four years later, Israeli minister Hayim Ramon wondered exactly the same
thing. Israel would not accept preconditions or dictates. “We have to negoti-
ate to reach an agreement. . .If they are serious, please come, negotiate. This
is the only way to reach an agreement” (BBC-SWB 2000b). By “agreement,”
Ramon understood pshara, compromise.
This was not at all the Syrian view of negotiation. As Assad explained:
“As long as the matter did not deal with substance, we used to give and take
and make initiatives. But on substance there is no possibility for compromise
or placation” (BBC-SWB 1994b). In an interview given by Assad on the peace
process in 1996, he managed to go through the entire conversation without
using a single word that could be construed as “negotiation” (CNN 1996).
According to Itamar Rabinovich, the Syrians “strenuously objected to our
characterizing our exchanges as ‘negotiations on core issues.’ One of the
members of the Syrian delegation told us in all honesty that the term ‘negoti-
ation’ implied ‘bargaining’ and that this was out of the question, when
questions of principle were on the agenda” (Rabinovich 1998: 126).
The Israeli conclusion by the end was that “Assad was unwilling to
adopt the minimal conditions of sane political give and take.” This was not
the way “to handle international business in the new global culture” (Samet
2000).
There was a further fundamental conceptual contradiction at the very
heart of the Syrian-Israeli dialogue. For the Israeli side, it was axiomatic that a
peace agreement had to be grounded in the “vital interests” of the two sides.
It was therefore essential that each side explore those interests in an effort to
detect possible areas of convergence. This is a basic premise of Western
diplomatic discourse, and Israel had accepted it without reservation, to the
extent of adopting the word interess in a technical political sense. When
Israeli and Syrian delegations met at Shepherdstown in January 2000, Israeli
Prime Minister Ehud Barak commented that “The whole strength of an

28 Raymond Cohen Resolving Conflict Across Languages

agreement lies in the two sides concluding, each in its own way, that their
vital interests converge and that the alternative of having no agreement is
less good” (BBC-SWB 2000a). In an interview the day after the breakdown of
the Geneva talks, Barak referred on five separate occasions to the need to
ensure that Israel’s vital interests were met. His entire defense of his govern-
ment’s position was based on the claim that “we stood firm on Israel’s vital
interests” (BBC-SWB 2000c). This was virtually identical, except for differ-
ences of personal style, to Yitzhak Rabin’s negotiating discourse during his
administration.
Syrian leaders, however, simply did not frame the issues in vital inter-
ests language, so no intelligible exchange, let alone “exploration of
overlapping interests,” was possible. Syrian discourse was uniquely formu-
lated in terms of immutable principles, mabadi. The semantic field of this
word covers ideas like premises, basics, fundamental concepts, and tenets of
an ideology — but not interests. Syrian adherence to principles is affirmed in
literally thousands of editorials and speeches over the years. Here is just one
typical statement made by President Hafiz Assad in 1995:

We are clearly proceeding from the principles of the Madrid oper-

ation and what we agreed upon before the peace process began
in Madrid. . .We agreed on certain principles. We are proceeding
in accordance with those principles. We have not and will not
abandon the principles that formed the basis of our current
endeavor. Some brothers, of course, placed themselves outside
the scope of these principles (BBC-SWB 1995b).

From this principled perspective, talk of interests by Israel’s leaders was

perceived as offensive and demeaning by Assad. He bitterly complained:
“The Israelis are obstructive. They do not seek a genuine peace between
equals. While everyone wants his legitimate interests, they want their — or
what they deem to be their — interests, be they legitimate or illegitimate.
While they want their dignity preserved, they want others’ dignity lost”
(BBC-SWB 1994c).
Syrian Foreign Minister Faruq al-Shara recalled succinctly summing up
his country’s demands/principles for the benefit of Secretary Albright. “I told
her: ‘. . .land [ard], dignity [‘ird], rights [huquq, plural of haqq]’” (FBIS-NES
2000a). To those one might add the principles of justice (‘adl) and equality
(tasawi). Each one of these terms is critical in Syrian negotiating discourse
and has a profound significance and resonance for Arabic speakers. Dignity
or honor, Shara noted, had been important to the Arabs throughout history
and was central to their sense of identity. As the Encyclopedia of Islam
explains, ‘ird corresponds only “approximately to the idea of honor” and can
be compared to a veil protecting the most cherished, sacrosanct values of
the group, family, or individual (1990: 77). Ard, meaning “land, country, soil,
plot of land” is another loaded word, combining in one term the ideas of
native soil, motherland, and ancestral homestead. In its plural form, aradi, it

Negotiation Journal January 2001 29

appears in the formula “territories for peace.” But the neutral word “territo-
ries,” with its detached connotations of a vast expanse of real estate, is a far
cry from the Arabic word.
There was a third crippling discrepancy in the parties’ understanding of
the goal of the entire process — the concept of peace itself. This was not
only a theoretical dispute; the difference also had concrete implications.
Hafiz Assad defined salaam in 1994 for President Clinton as a state “emanat-
ing from the principle of full withdrawal for full peace [salaam shamil],
through the establishment of normal peaceful relations [alaqat salaam
adiyah] with Israel in exchange for full Israeli withdrawal.” This would be “a
peace that returns to each party its rights, ends occupation, saves the blood
of the innocent and protects human dignity; a peace that prevails through-
out the region and enables the Arabs and the Israelis to live in security,
stability, and prosperity” (BBC-SWB 1994a).
At the time, Assad’s enunciation of this principled vision of full peace
was considered to be a considerable breakthrough for American diplomacy.
On closer examination, it did not prove to coincide with the practical
requirements of friendship, cooperation, and facts on the ground that Israel
insisted on under the rubric of “normalization.” From Rabin onwards, Israeli
leaders defined this in operational terms to mean “embassies and borders
open to persons and goods” (BBC-SWB 1995a). For Israelis, shalom meant
the substance of cooperation between peoples, not just a legal state of
salaam. In rebuttal, Foreign Minister Shara poured scorn on this utilitarian
view, saying that Israel’s “concept of peace is simply handshakes, embassies,
flags, and such things” (FBIS-NES 2000b). Ambassador Rabinovich’s view
was that whereas Israel understood “full peace” to mean normalization
opening up most of the Arab world to contact, to Syrians it stood for the
opposite: a strategic balance blocking off the Arab world to Israel. He rue-
fully concluded: “The Israeli-Syrian dialogue was a striking example of the
ability of two old foes, trying to reach agreement, to speak in the same terms
— but to mean something different” (Rabinovich 1997).
Conclusion
By now the general point should be clear: Language is not a neutral, trans-
parent window through which the world reveals itself. Rather, it is a
culturally charged set of symbols for representing the world. When it comes
to negotiation across cultures, the basic mechanics are fairly constant; broad
discrepancies lurk in the linguistic software. Between Israelis and Syrians
yawned a conceptual divide that ensured a dialogue of the deaf in the Year
2000. The United States was not able to bridge it, and may not have been
wholly conscious of its existence.
This portrait of dissonance has several very clear implications: One is
that language cannot simply be factored out of the negotiating equation.
Close attention must be paid to the negotiating vocabularies and paradigms
of languages other than English. Indeed, the analyst should always be con-

30 Raymond Cohen Resolving Conflict Across Languages

scious of the subjectivity of the English language version. In negotiations
across languages, negotiators have to put themselves into the semantic boots
of their interlocutors. A translation cannot be a facsimile of the original. As
the word suggests, it is an interpretation. English is not a metalanguage
above and beyond culture — a system of logical notation — able to convey
the “reality” of negotiation in an objective way. Its outlook is as idiosyncratic
as that of any supposedly exotic Middle Eastern language. Let us remember,
in all humility, that at different times Arabic, Persian, Turkish, and Aramaic (if
not Hebrew) were all diplomatic languages thought to express culturally
privileged views of the world, just like English today. Arabic still is.
As long as negotiation is read or thought about only in English, as
though that were the master language of the human race, cultural and
semantic divergences across peoples are bound to be obscured because
there is no yardstick for comparison. To reveal unusual features of any lan-
guage, English included, requires the Archimedean leverage that only
another language can provide. The singularity of the English-language con-
cepts of, say, “reconciliation,” “apologize,” “fairness,” “confidence-building,”
and so on, only becomes clear when one seeks to express these compli-
cated, loaded ideas fully and comprehensibly in a non-Standard Average
European language. To appreciate the difficulty, reverse roles. Were Man-
darin Chinese the global interlanguage, would we think about negotiation in
the same way? How do you say guanxi in English (Yang 1994; Solomon
1999)?
In objection to my case, it may be maintained that native languages are
no longer particularly relevant because only English really counts today.
According to this argument, diplomats are fluent in English, the modern
global language, and most international negotiations are carried on in that
tongue. Treaties and other important documents are very often drafted in
English. International organizations conduct most of their operations in Eng-
lish. For instance, the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN)
transacts its business in English, not Malay or Chinese.
Let there be no mistake: The use of an international language such as
English is indispensable for the efficient handling of international affairs,
broadly defined. In the past, historical interlanguages such as Akkadian,
Latin, and French played this same essential role. Moreover, the very possibil-
ity of an interlanguage strongly suggests that different cultures share a great
deal of common ground in their understanding of what negotiation writ
large entails. However, it seems to me that the infallibility of English as a
universal panacea to problems of cross-cultural communication and interna-
tional negotiation has been greatly exaggerated. An essential feature of the
globalization process explains why English has only a limited capacity to
deliver.
Paradoxically, at the very moment that it greatly expands the scope of
international contact, globalization diminishes the role of multilingual profes-
sional diplomats. Nowadays many nondiplomats, who are not necessarily

Negotiation Journal January 2001 31

fluent in English or another second language, are involved in international
negotiations. Much international negotiating, covering a bewildering and
ever-increasing range of activities, is conducted with a minority of trained
diplomats present. Political figures, officials from domestic agencies, military
personnel, and representatives of the private sector often dominate delega-
tions to international conferences. Nor do all leaders, even of major powers,
know English well.
Even when face-to-face talks between delegations take place in English,
this does not neutralize the influence of the mother tongue. To speak in Eng-
lish is not necessarily to think in English. Doubtless, when negotiations
concern technical matters, linguistic nuances are unlikely to loom large. Pro-
fessionals indeed share a common language. But the more politicized,
contentious, public, and complex the issue under negotiation, the greater
the potential impact of linguistic differences.
Interlanguages are helpfully precise and unemotive only because they
exclude thick mother tongue layers of meaning and connotation. As long as
they are used in a mechanical (and culturally impoverished) way, with a
restricted vocabulary, narrowly defined according to clearly understood con-
ventions, then international business — commercial, scientific, technical —
can be efficiently conducted. Air traffic controllers and airline pilots,
importers and exporters, scientists and engineers, need little more than a
bare-bones technical language. But as international cooperation thrives, as
relationships and communities flourish, as cultures intertwine, the limita-
tions of a thin international language become apparent. Syrian-Israeli
negotiations are a case in point.
For rich and intimate communication on complex, important issues,
something more is needed. Obviously, English has an essential role as a com-
mon denominator in international negotiation. Without English (and
French), such direct contact as there was between Syrians and Israelis would
have been even more difficult. At the same time, the reality of linguistic and
conceptual diversity should dispel the illusion that English alone, with its
necessarily monochrome view of the world, is enough. What Israeli and Syr-
ian negotiators lacked — with a few notable exceptions — was the
polychrome insight into each other’s conceptual world that only grasp of
language and culture can provide.
Actually, resort to English inadvertently masked deep semantic dispari-
ties. Use of such loaded words as “reconciliation,” “peace,” and
“compromise” could not by itself bridge the gap between dissonant Arabic
and Hebrew understanding of these and other terms.
What, then, is to be done? There is no easy answer to this profound
problem, though there is an agenda here for research and reflection. Never-
theless, some obvious lessons suggest themselves:
• Before plunging into a negotiation of issues, interlocutors cannot take for
granted that they are talking about the same concepts.

32 Raymond Cohen Resolving Conflict Across Languages

• Differences of meaning across languages should be brought out into
the open, so that they can be consciously addressed by analysts and
negotiators.
• Dissonances should be examined in the understanding that no language
is normative for other language communities.
• Interlocutors should painstakingly seek common threads of meaning in
the polysemous fabric of words. For all their differences, salaam and
shalom do possess shared features.
• There is also the possibility of inventing, or synthesizing, new concepts
to bridge the semantic gap.
• Where there is insurmountable disharmony, the selection of a concept
borrowed from a third language may certainly provide a feasible option.
But this must be done in informed awareness and not by default.

NOTE

This article is derived from Project SG-21-96, “Middle East Negotiating Styles — A Lexical and
Behavioral Approach,” generously funded by the Washington-based U.S. Institute of Peace. I am
grateful to Patrick Cronin, Steve Riskin, Dan Snodderly, and Nigel Quinney for their encourage-
ment and help.

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