Some time ago, I followed the controversy sparked by the Dutch translation of the poem The Hill We Climb, written by Amanda Gorman, likely at the request of Joe Biden.

A patriotic poem with Whitmanesque tones, it also includes references to the Bible. The Dutch publisher Meulenhoff assigned the translation to Marieke Lucas Rijneveld, a highly talented young writer. However, journalist Janice Deul, who, like Amanda Gorman (the poem’s author), is African American, protested (before the translation was even published), questioning why a white person should translate a Black poet. According to Deul, Gorman was raised by a single mother and faced many difficulties in her childhood, which inevitably shaped her identity and creativity—something a white translator could never fully understand.

The controversy spread widely, but I’d like to focus on the response of André Markowicz, a self-described "secular Jew" of Russian origin, and undoubtedly, in my view, one of the most brilliant translators of our time. I recall his translations of Dostoevsky’s complete works, for which he argued that previous translations were flawed. According to Markowicz, Dostoevsky despised elegance, especially the French kind. Dostoevsky, he claimed, wrote insistently, disregarding syntax and frequent repetitions. Markowicz preserved this very aspect, and his work has been highly praised by experts.

In his Tribune article, Markowicz appears somewhat tense. He remarks that Janice Deul’s arguments remind him of a Russian critic’s comment that his Dostoevsky translations were questionable because he was not Orthodox. The underlying argument was that a Jew, even if Russian, could never grasp the "Russian soul."

He asserts that dividing translation rights based on skin color is the absolute antithesis of what translation represents.

"No one has the right to tell me whom I can or cannot translate. On the contrary, everyone has the right to judge my work—if they have the competence to do so. The real question is whether, through my work, my voice, and my craft, I have succeeded in conveying the voice of another without reducing it to the nature of my own voice."

He also harshly criticizes the Dutch publisher for withdrawing the translation and issuing an apology to conform to contemporary identity-based demands.

Finally, I observe the heated debates and criticisms on social media, which, unfortunately, often take on racist overtones. But I’d like to highlight one particularly striking comment:

"So, what now? Do you have to be a gay, asthmatic Jew to have the right to translate Proust?"