"Can you taste words?"
「你能嚐到文字嗎?」
It was a question that caught me by surprise. This summer, I was giving a talk at a literary festival, and afterwards, as I was signing books, a teenage girl came with her friend, and this is what she asked me. I told her that some people experience an overlap in their senses so that they could hear colors or see sounds, and many writers were fascinated by this subject, myself included. But she cut me off, a bit impatiently, and said, "Yeah, I know all of that. It's called synesthesia. We learned it at school. But my mom is reading your book, and she says there's lots of food and ingredients and a long dinner scene in it. She gets hungry at every page. So I was thinking, how come you don't get hungry when you write? And I thought maybe, maybe you could taste words. Does it make sense?"
這個問題讓我措手不及。 今年夏天,我受邀去 一個文學節慶演說, 之後,我就開始簽書, 一名青少女和她的朋友一起來, 這個問題就是她問我的。 我告訴她,有些人會 體驗到感官重疊, 因此他們可以聽見顏色, 或看見聲音, 許多作家對這個題材 很著迷,包括我在內。 但她打斷我,有點沒耐心, 她說:「是啊,那些我都知道。 那叫伴生感覺,學校有教。 (譯註:也有譯連帶感覺、共同感覺) 但我媽媽在讀你的書, 而她說,書中有很多的食物和原料, 還有一段很長的晚餐場景。 看每一頁都讓她覺得很餓。 所以,我在想, 為什麼你在寫的時候不會餓? 我心想,也許你可以嚐到文字。 這樣合理嗎?」
And, actually, it did make sense, because ever since my childhood, each letter in the alphabet has a different color, and colors bring me flavors. So for instance, the color purple is quite pungent, almost perfumed, and any words that I associate with purple taste the same way, such as "sunset" -- a very spicy word. But I was worried that if I tell all of this to the teenager, it might sound either too abstract or perhaps too weird, and there wasn't enough time anyhow, because people were waiting in the queue, so it suddenly felt like what I was trying to convey was more complicated and detailed than what the circumstances allowed me to say. And I did what I usually do in similar situations: I stammered, I shut down, and I stopped talking. I stopped talking because the truth was complicated, even though I knew, deep within, that one should never, ever remain silent for fear of complexity.
事實上,那的確合理, 因為自從我的童年開始, 在字母表上的每一個字 都有不同的顏色, 而顏色能帶給我味道。 比如,紫色十分有刺激性, 幾乎是芳香的, 而所有被我和紫色聯結在一起的字, 嚐起來都是那個味道, 比如「日落」就是個非常辛辣的字。 但我擔心,如果我把 這些都告訴這位青少女, 可能聽起來會太抽象, 或是太奇怪, 其實也沒時間說這麼多, 因為有很多人還在排隊, 所以,突然間,感覺就像是 我在試著傳達的訊息 比當時情況下我能夠 說出的訊息還要更複雜、更詳細。 所以,我就做了我在 類似的情況下通常會做的: 我結巴、我關上心門、我不再說話了。 我不再說話是因為真相很複雜, 即使在內心深處我也知道 人永遠都不應該因為 害怕複雜就保持沉默。
So I want to start my talk today with the answer that I was not able to give on that day. Yes, I can taste words -- sometimes, that is, not always, and happy words have a different flavor than sad words. I like to explore: What does the word "creativity" taste like, or "equality," "love," "revolution?"
所以,我想要用那天我無法 給予那位青少女的答案, 來做為今天演說的開頭。 是的,我能嚐到文字, 有時候能,不是一直都能, 快樂的文字和悲傷的文字 有不同的味道。 我想探究的是:「創意」 這個字嚐起來像什麼, 或「平等」、 「愛」、「革命」這些字?
And what about "motherland?" These days, it's particularly this last word that troubles me. It leaves a sweet taste on my tongue, like cinnamon, a bit of rose water and golden apples. But underneath, there's a sharp tang, like nettles and dandelion. The taste of my motherland, Turkey, is a mixture of sweet and bitter.
「祖國」又如何呢? 現今,最後這個詞特別讓我困擾。 它在我的舌尖留下甜甜的餘味, 就像肉桂皮,加上一點玫瑰水, 以及金蘋果。 但它底下還有強烈刺激的味道, 就像蕁麻和蒲公英。 我的祖國土耳其的味道, 是甜味與苦味的混合。
And the reason why I'm telling you this is because I think there's more and more people all around the world today who have similarly mixed emotions about the lands they come from. We love our native countries, yeah? How can we not? We feel attached to the people, the culture, the land, the food. And yet at the same time, we feel increasingly frustrated by its politics and politicians, sometimes to the point of despair or hurt or anger.
我之所以告訴各位這些, 是因為我認為,現今全世界 有越來越多人, 對於他們來自的土地, 有著類似的混合情緒。 我們愛自己的母國,對吧? 怎麼可能不愛? 我們對於母國的人民、文化、 土地、食物都有著依附感。 但,同時, 卻因為母國的政治和政客, 我們越來越感到挫折, 有時甚至會到絕望、 受傷、憤怒的程度。
I want to talk about emotions and the need to boost our emotional intelligence. I think it's a pity that mainstream political theory pays very little attention to emotions. Oftentimes, analysts and experts are so busy with data and metrics that they seem to forget those things in life that are difficult to measure and perhaps impossible to cluster under statistical models. But I think this is a mistake, for two main reasons. Firstly, because we are emotional beings. As human beings, I think we all are like that. But secondly, and this is new, we have entered a new stage in world history in which collective sentiments guide and misguide politics more than ever before. And through social media and social networking, these sentiments are further amplified, polarized, and they travel around the world quite fast. Ours is the age of anxiety, anger, distrust, resentment and, I think, lots of fear. But here's the thing: even though there's plenty of research about economic factors, there's relatively few studies about emotional factors.
我想要談談情緒, 以及將我們情緒智商提升的必要性。 我覺得很可惜, 主流政治理論很少會注意到情緒。 通常,分析師和專家 忙著處理資料和度量, 他們似乎忘記了人生當中還有些東西 是很難去測量的, 這些東西甚至可能很難 用統計模型來分成集群。 但我認為這是個錯誤,原因有二。 第一點,因為我們是情緒的生物。 身為人類,我知道我們都是那樣的。 但,第二點,這點是新的, 我們進入了世界歷史的新階段, 在這個階段,是有史以來 集體感情最會引導 和誤導政治的時候。 透過社交媒體和社交網路, 這些感情會被進一步放大、 極端化,且能非常快速地傳遍世界。 我們的時代充滿了焦慮、憤怒、 不信任、仇恨、以及…… 我認為還有許多恐懼。 但重點是: 雖然有很多關於經濟因素的研究, 相對之下,很少有 關於情緒因素的研究。
Why is it that we underestimate feelings and perceptions? I think it's going to be one of our biggest intellectual challenges, because our political systems are replete with emotions. In country after country, we have seen illiberal politicians exploiting these emotions. And yet within the academia and among the intelligentsia, we are yet to take emotions seriously. I think we should. And just like we should focus on economic inequality worldwide, we need to pay more attention to emotional and cognitive gaps worldwide and how to bridge these gaps, because they do matter.
為什麼我們會低估了感覺和感知? 我想,這將會是我們 最大的智力挑戰之一, 因為我們的政治體制充滿了情緒。 在一個又一個國家中, 我們看見反自由的政客 在利用這些情緒。 但是在學術界和知識界, 我們尚未認真看待情緒。 而我認為我們應該要。 就像我們應該要聚焦在 全球的經濟不平等一樣, 我們也需要更注意 全球的情緒和認知落差、 以及如何彌救這些落差, 因為它們是有所謂的。
Years ago, when I was still living in Istanbul, an American scholar working on women writers in the Middle East came to see me. And at some point in our exchange, she said, "I understand why you're a feminist, because, you know, you live in Turkey." And I said to her, "I don't understand why you're not a feminist, because, you know, you live in America."
數年前,我還住在伊斯坦堡時, 一位在研究中東女性作家的美國學者 來找我。 當我們交流到某個時點時,她說: 「我了解為何你是女權主義者, 因為,你知道的,你住在土耳其。」 我對她說: 「我不了解為何你不是女權主義者, 因為,你知道的,你住在美國。」
(Laughter)
(笑聲)
(Applause) And she laughed. She took it as a joke, and the moment passed.
(掌聲) 她笑了。 她把這話當玩笑話, 那個時刻就過去了。
(Laughter)
(笑聲)
But the way she had divided the world into two imaginary camps, into two opposite camps -- it bothered me and it stayed with me. According to this imaginary map, some parts of the world were liquid countries. They were like choppy waters not yet settled. Some other parts of the world, namely the West, were solid, safe and stable. So it was the liquid lands that needed feminism and activism and human rights, and those of us who were unfortunate enough to come from such places had to keep struggling for these most essential values. But there was hope. Since history moved forward, even the most unsteady lands would someday catch up. And meanwhile, the citizens of solid lands could take comfort in the progress of history and in the triumph of the liberal order. They could support the struggles of other people elsewhere, but they themselves did not have to struggle for the basics of democracy anymore, because they were beyond that stage.
但她的方式是把世界 分割成兩個想像的陣營, 兩個對立的陣營── 這點讓我不舒服,且揮之不去。 根據這張想像出來的地圖, 世界有些部份是液態(不穩定)國家。 它們就像是波浪起伏的水, 還沒有平靜下來。 世界上的其他部份,也就是西方, 則是固態,是安全和穩定的。 是液態土地才需要女權主義、 行動主義、人權。 而非常不幸來自 這類地方的人, 就必須為這些最重要的價值 而不斷掙扎。 但還是有希望。 因為歷史會向前行, 即使是最不安定的土地, 也有一天會趕上來。 而這期間,固態土地的公民 可以從歷史的進展 和自由秩序的勝利中得著安慰。 他們可以支持其他地方、 其他人的掙扎, 但他們自己本身不再需要 為了民主的基礎而掙扎, 因為他們已經過了那個階段。
I think in the year 2016, this hierarchical geography was shattered to pieces. Our world no longer follows this dualistic pattern in the scholar's mind, if it ever did. Now we know that history does not necessarily move forward. Sometimes it draws circles, even slides backwards, and that generations can make the same mistakes that their great-grandfathers had made. And now we know that there's no such thing as solid countries versus liquid countries. In fact, we are all living in liquid times, just like the late Zygmunt Bauman told us. And Bauman had another definition for our age. He used to say we are all going to be walking on moving sands.
我認為,在 2016 年, 這種階層式的地理學被粉碎了。 我們的世界不再遵循這種 學者腦中的二元的模式, 如果它真的曾經存在過的話。 現在,我們知道, 歷史不見得會向前走。 有時候它會原地打轉, 甚至後退, 而且各世代都可能會再犯 曾祖父母就犯過的錯誤。 現在,我們知道,沒有所謂的 固態國家 vs. 液態國家。 事實上,我們都生在液態的時代, 就如同已逝的齊格蒙鮑曼告訴我們的。 對我們的時代,鮑曼還另有一個定義。 他曾說我們都將走在流沙中。
And if that's the case, I think, it should concern us women more than men, because when societies slide backwards into authoritarianism, nationalism or religious fanaticism, women have much more to lose. That is why this needs to be a vital moment, not only for global activism, but in my opinion, for global sisterhood as well.
我認為,如果真的是這樣, 那麼女性受到的影響會比男性大, 因為當社會向後滑動 回到專制主義、 民族主義、宗教狂熱, 女性的損失比男性要大得多。 那就是為什麼現在是很關鍵的時刻, 不僅是對全球行動主義而言, 依我所見,對全球姊妹情誼 而言亦是如此。
(Applause)
(掌聲)
But I want to make a little confession before I go any further. Until recently, whenever I took part in an international conference or festival, I would be usually one of the more depressed speakers.
但在進一步談下去之前, 我要先做個小小的告解。 直到最近,每當我參加 國際會議或是慶祝活動, 我通常是比較沮喪的講者之一。
(Laughter)
(笑聲)
Having seen how our dreams of democracy and how our dreams of coexistence were crushed in Turkey, both gradually but also with a bewildering speed, over the years I've felt quite demoralized. And at these festivals there would be some other gloomy writers, and they would come from places such as Egypt, Nigeria, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Philippines, China, Venezuela, Russia. And we would smile at each other in sympathy, this camaraderie of the doomed.
我見到我們的民主夢想以及共存夢想 在土耳其被摧毀, 有時是漸漸地被摧毀, 有時是以讓人混亂的速度被摧毀, 這些年來,我覺得相當洩氣, 在這些慶祝活動上, 會有一些其他憂鬱的作家, 他們來自埃及、 奈及利亞、巴基斯坦、 孟加拉共和國、菲律賓、 中國、委內瑞拉、俄國等地。 我們會帶著同情,對彼此微笑, 受厄運者的同志情誼。
(Laughter)
(笑聲)
And you could call us WADWIC: Worried and Depressed Writers International Club.
你們可以稱我們為 WADWIC: 憂心沮喪作家國際俱樂部。
(Laughter)
(笑聲)
But then things began to change, and suddenly our club became more popular, and we started to have new members. I remember --
但接著,事情開始改變了, 突然間,我們的俱樂部變熱門了, 我們開始有新成員。 我記得……
(Laughter)
(笑聲)
I remember Greek writers and poets joined first, came on board. And then writers from Hungary and Poland, and then, interestingly, writers from Austria, the Netherlands, France, and then writers from the UK, where I live and where I call my home, and then writers from the USA. Suddenly, there were more of us feeling worried about the fate of our nations and the future of the world. And maybe there were more of us now feeling like strangers in our own motherlands.
我記得希臘作家和詩人最先加入。 接著是來自匈牙利和波蘭的作家, 很有趣的是,再接下來是來自 奧地利、荷蘭、法國的作家, 再來是來自英國的作家,我自己 就住在英國且稱英國為我的家, 再來是來自美國的作家。 突然間,我們人數變多了, 我們都在擔心我們國家的命運、 以及世界的未來。 也許,現在我們當中有越來越多人 在自己的祖國裡,卻覺得格格不入。
And then this bizarre thing happened. Those of us who used to be very depressed for a long time, we started to feel less depressed, whereas the newcomers, they were so not used to feeling this way that they were now even more depressed.
接著發生了一件怪異的事。 我們當中那些本來沮喪了 很長一段時間的人, 反而開始感覺比較不那麼沮喪了, 而新來的人, 他們很不習慣有這樣的感覺, 以致於他們現在變得更沮喪。
(Laughter)
(笑聲)
So you could see writers from Bangladesh or Turkey or Egypt trying to console their colleagues from Brexit Britain or from post-election USA.
所以你們可以發現,來自 孟加拉、土耳其或埃及的作家 在試圖安撫那些來自脫歐的英國 或來自選舉後的美國的作家同行。
(Laughter)
(笑聲)
But joking aside, I think our world is full of unprecedented challenges, and this comes with an emotional backlash, because in the face of high-speed change, many people wish to slow down, and when there's too much unfamiliarity, people long for the familiar. And when things get too confusing, many people crave simplicity. This is a very dangerous crossroads, because it's exactly where the demagogue enters into the picture.
但把玩笑放到一旁, 我認為,我們的世界 充滿了空前的挑戰, 而這是會有情緒後座力的, 因為在面對高速改變時, 許多人會希望慢下來, 且,當有太多不熟悉時, 人們會渴望熟悉。 當事物變得太讓人困惑時, 許多人會期盼簡單。 這是個非常危險的十字路口, 因為群眾煽動者就是在這裡出現的。
The demagogue understands how collective sentiments work and how he -- it's usually a he -- can benefit from them. He tells us that we all belong in our tribes, and he tells us that we will be safer if we are surrounded by sameness. Demagogues come in all sizes and in all shapes. This could be the eccentric leader of a marginal political party somewhere in Europe, or an Islamist extremist imam preaching dogma and hatred, or it could be a white supremacist Nazi-admiring orator somewhere else. All these figures, at first glance -- they seem disconnected. But I think they feed each other, and they need each other.
群眾煽動者了解集體感情如何運作、 以及他──通常是男性的 「他」──能如何從中獲利。 他告訴我們, 我們都屬於我們的部落, 他告訴我們,如果我們周圍 都是相同性,我們會比較安全。 群眾煽動者有各種形狀跟大小。 可能會是歐洲某地一個小政黨的 古怪領導者, 或是伊斯蘭極端主義伊瑪目, 在鼓吹教義和仇恨, 也可能是其他地方的一名 崇拜納粹的至上主義白人演說家。 乍看之下,所有這些人物 似乎都沒有關聯。 但我認為他們以彼此為能源, 他們需要彼此。
And all around the world, when we look at how demagogues talk and how they inspire movements, I think they have one unmistakable quality in common: they strongly, strongly dislike plurality. They cannot deal with multiplicity. Adorno used to say, "Intolerance of ambiguity is the sign of an authoritarian personality." But I ask myself: What if that same sign, that same intolerance of ambiguity -- what if it's the mark of our times, of the age we're living in? Because wherever I look, I see nuances withering away. On TV shows, we have one anti-something speaker situated against a pro-something speaker. Yeah? It's good ratings. It's even better if they shout at each other. Even in academia, where our intellect is supposed to be nourished, you see one atheist scholar competing with a firmly theist scholar, but it's not a real intellectual exchange, because it's a clash between two certainties.
在全世界, 當我們去看群眾煽動者如何說話, 以及他們如何激勵運動, 我想,他們有一項共通的明確特質: 他們非常非常不喜歡多重性。 他們無法處理多樣性。 德國社會學家阿多諾說過: 「無法忍受模糊, 是專制獨裁人格的徵兆。」 但我問我自己, 如果同樣這個徵兆, 對模糊無法容忍── 如果它正是我們的時代、 我們所生活的年代的標記呢? 因為不論在哪,可以看到 細微差別減少而趨向兩極化。 在電視節目上, 我們有反某樣東西的發言者, 在對抗贊成某樣東西的發言者。 對吧?收視率很好。 如果他們能對吼,收視率更高。 即使在學術界這個 應該是栽培知識份子的地方, 仍然會看到無神論學者 和堅定的有神論學者互爭, 但那並不是知識的交流, 而是兩個無庸置疑性之間的衝突。
I think binary oppositions are everywhere. So slowly and systematically, we are being denied the right to be complex. Istanbul, Berlin, Nice, Paris, Brussels, Dhaka, Baghdad, Barcelona: we have seen one horrible terror attack after another. And when you express your sorrow, and when you react against the cruelty, you get all kinds of reactions, messages on social media. But one of them is quite disturbing, only because it's so widespread. They say, "Why do you feel sorry for them? Why do you feel sorry for them? Why don't you feel sorry for civilians in Yemen or civilians in Syria?"
我認為,二元對立無所不在。 所以,很緩慢地、系統化地, 我們的「複雜權」漸漸被否認了。 伊斯坦堡、柏林、尼斯、 巴黎、布魯塞爾、 達卡、巴格達、巴賽隆納: 可怕恐怖攻擊一波接一波。 當你表示哀傷、 當你對殘酷行為做出反對, 你就會在社交媒體上得到 各種反應、各種訊息。 但其中一項讓人很不舒服, 只因為它傳播得非常廣。 他們說:「為什麼你要同情那些人? 為什麼你要同情那些人? 為什麼你不同情葉門的平民、 或敘利亞的平民?」
And I think the people who write such messages do not understand that we can feel sorry for and stand in solidarity with victims of terrorism and violence in the Middle East, in Europe, in Asia, in America, wherever, everywhere, equally and simultaneously. They don't seem to understand that we don't have to pick one pain and one place over all others. But I think this is what tribalism does to us. It shrinks our minds, for sure, but it also shrinks our hearts, to such an extent that we become numb to the suffering of other people.
我認為,寫這類訊息的人 並不了解 我們可以平等地、同時地去同情 並共同關心在中東、 歐洲、亞洲、美國、 任何地方的恐怖主義受害者 及暴力受害者。 他們似乎不了解, 我們不是只能從各地 所有的痛苦當中擇一來在乎。 但我認為,這就是 部落意識對我們的影響。 它肯定會讓我們的思維縮小, 同時它也會讓我們的心胸縮小, 縮小到讓我們對於他人 受到的苦難都麻木無感。
And the sad truth is, we weren't always like this. I had a children's book out in Turkey, and when the book was published, I did lots of events. I went to many primary schools, which gave me a chance to observe younger kids in Turkey. And it was always amazing to see how much empathy, imagination and chutzpah they have. These children are much more inclined to become global citizens than nationalists at that age. And it's wonderful to see, when you ask them, so many of them want to be poets and writers, and girls are just as confident as boys, if not even more.
悲傷的真相是, 我們以前並不是這樣的。 我有一本童書在土耳其出版了, 出版時,我做了很多活動。 我去了很多所小學, 讓我有機會能觀察土耳其的小朋友。 他們的大量同理心、 想像力、膽量,總是讓我 感到很驚艷。 對那個年紀的孩子來說, 變成全球公民的傾向 絕對遠高過變成民族主義者的傾向。 很美好的是,當你問他們將來 想做什麼,好多孩子 想要當詩人和作家, 且女孩們和男孩們一樣有自信, 有時還更自信。
But then I would go to high schools, and everything has changed. Now nobody wants to be a writer anymore, now nobody wants to be a novelist anymore, and girls have become timid, they are cautious, guarded, reluctant to speak up in the public space, because we have taught them -- the family, the school, the society -- we have taught them to erase their individuality.
但接著,我會去拜訪高中, 一切就改變了。 沒有人想要當作家了, 沒有人想要當小說家了, 女孩們變得很羞怯, 她們很小心,有防衛心, 不願在公共場合發言, 因為我們教導他們── 家庭、學校、社會 都教導他們要抹除他們的個人特徵。
I think East and West, we are losing multiplicity, both within our societies and within ourselves. And coming from Turkey, I do know that the loss of diversity is a major, major loss. Today, my motherland became the world's biggest jailer for journalists, surpassing even China's sad record. And I also believe that what happened over there in Turkey can happen anywhere. It can even happen here. So just like solid countries was an illusion, singular identities is also an illusion, because we all have a multiplicity of voices inside. The Iranian, the Persian poet, Hafiz, used to say, "You carry in your soul every ingredient necessary to turn your existence into joy. All you have to do is to mix those ingredients."
我認為,東方和西方, 我們在失去多樣性, 包括社會中, 以及我們自己內在的多樣性。 我來自土耳其,我知道失去多樣性 是非常非常重大的損失。 如今我的祖國變成了 世界上最大的記者監獄。 甚至超過了中國的可悲紀錄。 我也相信,在土耳其發生的事, 也會發生在任何地方。 甚至可能發生在這裡。 就如同固態國家是種假象, 單一身份也是一種假象, 因為我們內在都有多樣化的聲音。 伊朗的波斯詩人哈菲茲說過: 「要將你的存在轉變成喜悅 所必要的所有原料, 其實都已經在你的靈魂中了, 你只需要將那些原料混合在一起。」
And I think mix we can. I am an Istanbulite, but I'm also attached to the Balkans, the Aegean, the Mediterranean, the Middle East, the Levant. I am a European by birth, by choice, the values that I uphold. I have become a Londoner over the years. I would like to think of myself as a global soul, as a world citizen, a nomad and an itinerant storyteller. I have multiple attachments, just like all of us do. And multiple attachments mean multiple stories.
我認為我們可以做混合。 我是伊斯坦堡人, 但我也歸屬巴爾幹半島、 愛琴海、地中海、 中東、黎凡特。 (註:地中海東部諸島及沿岸諸國) 根據我的出生地、我的選擇、 我持有的價值觀,我是歐洲人。 這些年來我變成了倫敦人。 我認為我自己是全球人、 是世界公民、 是流浪者、也是巡迴說故事者。 我和所有人都一樣,有多重的連結。 多重的連結就意味著多重的故事。
As writers, we always chase stories, of course, but I think we are also interested in silences, the things we cannot talk about, political taboos, cultural taboos. We're also interested in our own silences. I have always been very vocal about and written extensively about minority rights, women's rights, LGBT rights. But as I was thinking about this TED Talk, I realized one thing: I have never had the courage to say in a public space that I was bisexual myself, because I so feared the slander and the stigma and the ridicule and the hatred that was sure to follow. But of course, one should never, ever, remain silent for fear of complexity.
身為作家,當然, 我們總是在追逐故事, 但我認為我們也對沉默、 我們無法談論的事物、 政治禁忌、文化禁忌都感興趣。 我們也對我們自己的沉默感興趣。 對於弱勢族群權力、女權、 同性雙性跨性者權力, 我向來都很直言不諱, 也寫了很多相關文章。 但當我在思考這場 TED 演說時, 我想通了一件事: 我從來沒有勇氣在公共場合上說出 我自己是雙性戀者, 因為我很害怕誹謗、 汙名、嘲笑、 以及仇恨都會接踵而來。 但,當然我們都不應該因為害怕複雜 而保持沉默。
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And although I am no stranger to anxieties, and although I am talking here about the power of emotions -- I do know the power of emotions -- I have discovered over time that emotions are not limitless. You know? They have a limit. There comes a moment -- it's like a tipping point or a threshold -- when you get tired of feeling afraid, when you get tired of feeling anxious. And I think not only individuals, but perhaps nations, too, have their own tipping points. So even stronger than my emotions is my awareness that not only gender, not only identity, but life itself is fluid. They want to divide us into tribes, but we are connected across borders. They preach certainty, but we know that life has plenty of magic and plenty of ambiguity. And they like to incite dualities, but we are far more nuanced than that.
雖然對於焦慮,我並不陌生, 雖然我在這裡談論著情緒的力量── 我確實知道情緒的力量── 但隨著時間,我發現到, 情緒並不是沒有限制的。 情緒是有限制的。 會有一個時刻 像是臨界點或是門檻, 你會厭倦了感到害怕, 你會厭倦了感到焦慮。 我認為不只是個人會如此, 也許國家也會有它們自己的臨界點。 所以,我的意識比我的情緒更強大, 不僅是性別、不僅是身份, 人生本身就是液態的。 他們想把我們分裂成部落, 但我們跨越國界連結在一起。 他們鼓吹肯定性, 但我們知道,人生充滿了魔法, 也充滿了模糊。 且他們喜歡煽動二元性, 但我們遠比二元性 有更多的細微差異。
So what can we do? I think we need to go back to the basics, back to the colors of the alphabet. The Lebanese poet Khalil Gibran used to say, "I learned silence from the talkative and tolerance from the intolerant and kindness from the unkind." I think it's a great motto for our times.
所以,我們能怎麼做? 我想,我們得要回到基礎, 回到字母的顏色。 黎巴嫩詩人哈利勒紀伯倫說過: 「我從愛說話的人身上學到沉默, 從不包容的人身上學到包容, 從不仁的人身上學到仁慈。」 我認為這句格言很適合 用在我們的時代。
So from populist demagogues, we will learn the indispensability of democracy. And from isolationists, we will learn the need for global solidarity. And from tribalists, we will learn the beauty of cosmopolitanism and the beauty of diversity.
所以,從平民主義的群眾煽動者身上, 我們會學到民主的不可缺。 從孤立主義者身上, 我們會學到全球團結的必要性。 從部落意識者身上, 我們會學到世界主義的美麗, 以及多元化的美麗。
As I finish, I want to leave you with one word, or one taste. The word "yurt" in Turkish means "motherland." It means "homeland." But interestingly, the word also means "a tent used by nomadic tribes." And I like that combination, because it makes me think homelands do not need to be rooted in one place. They can be portable. We can take them with us everywhere. And I think for writers, for storytellers, at the end of the day, there is one main homeland, and it's called "Storyland." And the taste of that word is the taste of freedom.
最後,我想留給大家一個字, 或是說,一個味道。 「Yurt」這個土耳其字, 它的意思是「祖國」。 它的意思是「家園」。 但有趣的是,這個字也意指: 「遊牧部落用的帳篷」。 我喜歡這樣的組合, 因為它會讓我覺得 家園並不需要紮根在一個地方。 家園是可攜式的。 我們能把家園隨身帶到任何地方。 我想,對作家而言, 對說故事者而言, 到頭來, 只有一個主要的家園, 它叫做「故事之地」。 而這個字的味道, 就是自由的味道。
Thank you.
謝謝。
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(掌聲)