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2011年12月31日星期六
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2011年11月7日星期一
政治秩序的起源——福山
三联生活周刊：政治秩序的起源
薛巍
根据对历史的研究，福山提出良好的政治秩序的三个要素以及它们为何、如何出现的。这三个关键因素是强大的国家、法治和让统治者负责的机制。
从宗族到国家
在1989年因发表了论文《历史的终结》而名声大噪后，福山又写了很多著作，包括1996年出版的《信任》和2003年出版的《我们的后人类的未来》。福山的新书《政治秩序的起源》不只局限于整个的人类历史，而是始于史前时期，结束于美国和法国大革命前夕。他挖掘了人类学、考古学、生物学、进化心理学、经济学和政治学、国际关系理论，建立了一个理解政治机构的演化的框架。下卷要几年后才出，一直写到现代。
在书的开头，福山提出，达尔文的自然选择理论和政治的演化是相关的。因为人性具有普遍、演化的特征，建立在偏爱亲人、互利、创造和遵守规则、有好战倾向等行为的基础上。因此人类政治受到一些反复出现的超越时间和文化的模式的影响。生物学决定和限制了政治机构可能的形式。
《纽约时报》科学记者尼古拉斯•韦德评论说：“以前对人类社会发展的宏大论述往往聚焦于某一个因果解释，如经济学或战争，或者像戴蒙德的《枪炮、细菌和钢铁》那样，聚焦于地理因素。福山的特别之处在于，他考虑了好多种因素，包括战争、宗教，尤其是偏爱亲人等人类的社会行为。”
福山把政治的发展分成四种类别：家族，宗族，酋邦和国家。前二者是以血缘关系为基础的，酋邦和国家更加复杂，它们在领土而非世系的基础上树立起权威。宗族在人类发明了农业之后才成为可能，因为农业比采集和狩猎社会能支撑更高的人口密度。“人类相互接触的范围变得宽广之后，需要不同的社会组织形式。”宗族形成的另一个必要条件是宗教，宗教把崇拜一个共同祖先的大量人口团结起来。由于宗族能够迅速动员起很多人参战，临近的宗族也必须动员起来，或者被打败。
战争也促成了从宗族向国家的转变。跟宗族比起来，国家组织得更好、更稳定，因为宗族首领在战斗中丧命之后，宗族往往会解体。只有国家能提高个人的生存概率时，人们才会放弃宗族的自由，接受国家的强迫。
福山的很多分析针对的都是国家是如何从宗族演化而来的。在他看来，这一转变受到了地理、历史和国家的几个要素形成的顺序的影响。根据事件发展顺序的不同，中国、印度、伊斯兰世界和欧洲，甚至欧洲内部，形成了不同种类的国家。
国家的形成是一个更加模糊的过程。宗族是自愿把权威交给一个强大的统治者吗？还是人口增多导致土地稀缺、引发冲突之后，只有一个强大的、中央集权的权威才能解决问题，使国家成为必须？福山提出，后者很可能更接近真相。他写道，向国家的转变是人类自由历程中的一大退步，因为国家往往不那么平等。因此宗族很可能是在暴力的胁迫下放弃了它们的自主。一个宗族征服了另一个。官僚机构被建立起来统治被征服的宗族，又建立起常备军和警察机构。如美国社会学家查尔斯•蒂利所说：“战争制造了政府，政府又制造战争。”
宗族是以人类求助于家人和亲属为基础，国家则有赖于人类创造和遵守规则的倾向。在中国产生了世界上第一个国家。建立于公元前221年的秦朝超越了宗族主义，发展出了忠诚于国家而非家族的官员阶层。在秦朝变得完善的控制机制在秦以前500年的东周就开始发展了，小的相互交战的邦国开始合并。这些控制机制包括以功绩而非贵族身份为基础的军事领袖任命制度、大规模征兵、复杂的税收制度和选贤任能的官员选拔制度。秦朝只是做得太过分了，在建立集权统治的过程中攻击社会的各个阶层。秦朝灭亡后，汉朝寻求与贵族精英之间的妥协，得以延续了400多年。
世界各地的统治者努力建立一个强大的国家，同时与阻碍他们的世袭制做斗争。“中央集权的国家和世袭制群体之间是负相关的。即使在现代国家被建立起来之后，宗族主义仍然是政治组织的默认模式。”偏爱自己的家人的本能从来没有消失，一有机会就会复辟。
为了创造一个忠实的管理阶层，有些国家采取了各种破坏家庭的极端措施。中国的皇帝组建了宦官群体，他们没有家人，比普通官员更受信任。11世纪晚期，天主教会坚持要求教士保持独身，迫使他们在教会和家庭之间做出抉择，这使欧洲在建立法治方面领先于其他社会。独身是教皇格里高利七世推行的几项重要改革之一，带来了教会法的发展以及连国王也要服从它的观念。格里高利使神圣罗马帝国皇帝亨利四世也屈从于他的意志，强迫欧洲最有权势的人到卡诺莎城堡赤脚在雪地里站立了三天，向教皇“忏悔罪过”。独身对于打击遗产造成的腐败和教会内部的寻租活动非常重要。教皇的改革使教会获得了道德地位，演变成一个现代的、等级制、官僚制和法治的机构，建立起了它在精神事务方面的权威，为接下来的世俗国家确立了基本原则。
8世纪的阿巴斯帝国、埃及的马穆鲁克苏丹和奥斯曼帝国发展出了军事奴隶制度，以降低裙带关系和忠诚于宗族造成的内部冲突。从巴尔干地区的基督教家庭带过来男孩，把他们当奴隶养大，训练成士兵。马穆鲁克是一种只维持一代人的贵族，只忠诚于苏丹。同时，奥斯曼帝国皇帝的精英奴隶军队的禁卫军士兵则不许结婚。这种制度虽然很怪异，但非常有效。军事奴隶马穆鲁克们击败了蒙古兵，赶走了十字军。但最后这两种体系都瓦解了，弱小的苏丹允许士兵们的儿子接替他们父亲的职位，马穆鲁克和禁卫军变成了强大的利益集团，士兵们的忠诚从国家转向了他们的家人，推翻了他们要保卫的中央集权国家，世袭制又复辟了。
穷国为什么穷？
秦朝建立1000年之后，宗族主义才在西方消失。宗族主义先是转变成了封建主义，农民为领主劳动，以换取领主的保护。所以当国王出现时，他们很少得到绝对的权力，因为他们要与封建领主分享权力。另一个妨碍了绝对统治出现于欧洲的因素是法治概念出现得比较早，这主要是因为教堂在11世纪发展出了律法。所以当强大的统治者开始建立国家时，他们要考虑新兴的民法。欧洲接着发展出了特别的观念：法律而非统治者应该是绝对的。在追求这一原则时，英国的议院处死了国王查理一世，驱逐了国王詹姆斯二世。这被证明是一种既能建立起强大的国家又让统治者承担责任的办法。
其他欧洲国家发展出了与英格兰类似的机构，但没有能够实现统治者与精英们的权力之间的平衡。在法国，贵族反对国家向他们征税，所以负担越来越落到农民头上，直到他们无法忍受，引发了法国大革命。在福山看来，欧洲国家中，只有英格兰和丹麦发展出了强大国家的三个核心要素：强大的国家，社会所有部分都实行法治，让国王承担责任的机制。这一成功的公式后来被其他欧洲国家采纳，就像自然选择过程偏爱最成功的变异。
福山说：“体制虽然是文化性的，但也很难改变。一旦它们被创造出来，人们就开始赋予它们内在的价值，通常是宗教价值。这一过程在稳定人类社会方面有着演化论的意义，因为接受了一套规则之后，一个社会在多年内都不必再为此而努力了。体制的惰性解释了为什么社会的变化一般很缓慢。体制不仅很难改变，而且很难发展出来。福山写道：“贫穷的国家之所以穷，不是因为缺少资源，而是因为缺少有效的政治体制。”在他看来，缺少法治是贫穷国家没能实现更高增长率的一个主要原因。欧洲的法治源自有组织的宗教，其民主却只是历史的偶然。如果没有封建制，欧洲的统治者也许也能拥有绝对的权力。
《经济学家》杂志说，福山的洞见有助于我们理解现代国家及其形成过程。“比如，从良好政治秩序的三个要素来看，现在的印度是一个国力弱小但能够向领导人问责、近乎迂腐地讲究法治的国家。福山的主题仍旧很宏大，但他能够准确地找出富有启示意义的细节。政治理论方面的著作很少有像这一部这样让人手不释卷。”
www.lifeweek.com.cn/2011/0418/31914.shtml
薛巍
根据对历史的研究，福山提出良好的政治秩序的三个要素以及它们为何、如何出现的。这三个关键因素是强大的国家、法治和让统治者负责的机制。
从宗族到国家
在1989年因发表了论文《历史的终结》而名声大噪后，福山又写了很多著作，包括1996年出版的《信任》和2003年出版的《我们的后人类的未来》。福山的新书《政治秩序的起源》不只局限于整个的人类历史，而是始于史前时期，结束于美国和法国大革命前夕。他挖掘了人类学、考古学、生物学、进化心理学、经济学和政治学、国际关系理论，建立了一个理解政治机构的演化的框架。下卷要几年后才出，一直写到现代。
在书的开头，福山提出，达尔文的自然选择理论和政治的演化是相关的。因为人性具有普遍、演化的特征，建立在偏爱亲人、互利、创造和遵守规则、有好战倾向等行为的基础上。因此人类政治受到一些反复出现的超越时间和文化的模式的影响。生物学决定和限制了政治机构可能的形式。
《纽约时报》科学记者尼古拉斯•韦德评论说：“以前对人类社会发展的宏大论述往往聚焦于某一个因果解释，如经济学或战争，或者像戴蒙德的《枪炮、细菌和钢铁》那样，聚焦于地理因素。福山的特别之处在于，他考虑了好多种因素，包括战争、宗教，尤其是偏爱亲人等人类的社会行为。”
福山把政治的发展分成四种类别：家族，宗族，酋邦和国家。前二者是以血缘关系为基础的，酋邦和国家更加复杂，它们在领土而非世系的基础上树立起权威。宗族在人类发明了农业之后才成为可能，因为农业比采集和狩猎社会能支撑更高的人口密度。“人类相互接触的范围变得宽广之后，需要不同的社会组织形式。”宗族形成的另一个必要条件是宗教，宗教把崇拜一个共同祖先的大量人口团结起来。由于宗族能够迅速动员起很多人参战，临近的宗族也必须动员起来，或者被打败。
战争也促成了从宗族向国家的转变。跟宗族比起来，国家组织得更好、更稳定，因为宗族首领在战斗中丧命之后，宗族往往会解体。只有国家能提高个人的生存概率时，人们才会放弃宗族的自由，接受国家的强迫。
福山的很多分析针对的都是国家是如何从宗族演化而来的。在他看来，这一转变受到了地理、历史和国家的几个要素形成的顺序的影响。根据事件发展顺序的不同，中国、印度、伊斯兰世界和欧洲，甚至欧洲内部，形成了不同种类的国家。
国家的形成是一个更加模糊的过程。宗族是自愿把权威交给一个强大的统治者吗？还是人口增多导致土地稀缺、引发冲突之后，只有一个强大的、中央集权的权威才能解决问题，使国家成为必须？福山提出，后者很可能更接近真相。他写道，向国家的转变是人类自由历程中的一大退步，因为国家往往不那么平等。因此宗族很可能是在暴力的胁迫下放弃了它们的自主。一个宗族征服了另一个。官僚机构被建立起来统治被征服的宗族，又建立起常备军和警察机构。如美国社会学家查尔斯•蒂利所说：“战争制造了政府，政府又制造战争。”
宗族是以人类求助于家人和亲属为基础，国家则有赖于人类创造和遵守规则的倾向。在中国产生了世界上第一个国家。建立于公元前221年的秦朝超越了宗族主义，发展出了忠诚于国家而非家族的官员阶层。在秦朝变得完善的控制机制在秦以前500年的东周就开始发展了，小的相互交战的邦国开始合并。这些控制机制包括以功绩而非贵族身份为基础的军事领袖任命制度、大规模征兵、复杂的税收制度和选贤任能的官员选拔制度。秦朝只是做得太过分了，在建立集权统治的过程中攻击社会的各个阶层。秦朝灭亡后，汉朝寻求与贵族精英之间的妥协，得以延续了400多年。
世界各地的统治者努力建立一个强大的国家，同时与阻碍他们的世袭制做斗争。“中央集权的国家和世袭制群体之间是负相关的。即使在现代国家被建立起来之后，宗族主义仍然是政治组织的默认模式。”偏爱自己的家人的本能从来没有消失，一有机会就会复辟。
为了创造一个忠实的管理阶层，有些国家采取了各种破坏家庭的极端措施。中国的皇帝组建了宦官群体，他们没有家人，比普通官员更受信任。11世纪晚期，天主教会坚持要求教士保持独身，迫使他们在教会和家庭之间做出抉择，这使欧洲在建立法治方面领先于其他社会。独身是教皇格里高利七世推行的几项重要改革之一，带来了教会法的发展以及连国王也要服从它的观念。格里高利使神圣罗马帝国皇帝亨利四世也屈从于他的意志，强迫欧洲最有权势的人到卡诺莎城堡赤脚在雪地里站立了三天，向教皇“忏悔罪过”。独身对于打击遗产造成的腐败和教会内部的寻租活动非常重要。教皇的改革使教会获得了道德地位，演变成一个现代的、等级制、官僚制和法治的机构，建立起了它在精神事务方面的权威，为接下来的世俗国家确立了基本原则。
8世纪的阿巴斯帝国、埃及的马穆鲁克苏丹和奥斯曼帝国发展出了军事奴隶制度，以降低裙带关系和忠诚于宗族造成的内部冲突。从巴尔干地区的基督教家庭带过来男孩，把他们当奴隶养大，训练成士兵。马穆鲁克是一种只维持一代人的贵族，只忠诚于苏丹。同时，奥斯曼帝国皇帝的精英奴隶军队的禁卫军士兵则不许结婚。这种制度虽然很怪异，但非常有效。军事奴隶马穆鲁克们击败了蒙古兵，赶走了十字军。但最后这两种体系都瓦解了，弱小的苏丹允许士兵们的儿子接替他们父亲的职位，马穆鲁克和禁卫军变成了强大的利益集团，士兵们的忠诚从国家转向了他们的家人，推翻了他们要保卫的中央集权国家，世袭制又复辟了。
穷国为什么穷？
秦朝建立1000年之后，宗族主义才在西方消失。宗族主义先是转变成了封建主义，农民为领主劳动，以换取领主的保护。所以当国王出现时，他们很少得到绝对的权力，因为他们要与封建领主分享权力。另一个妨碍了绝对统治出现于欧洲的因素是法治概念出现得比较早，这主要是因为教堂在11世纪发展出了律法。所以当强大的统治者开始建立国家时，他们要考虑新兴的民法。欧洲接着发展出了特别的观念：法律而非统治者应该是绝对的。在追求这一原则时，英国的议院处死了国王查理一世，驱逐了国王詹姆斯二世。这被证明是一种既能建立起强大的国家又让统治者承担责任的办法。
其他欧洲国家发展出了与英格兰类似的机构，但没有能够实现统治者与精英们的权力之间的平衡。在法国，贵族反对国家向他们征税，所以负担越来越落到农民头上，直到他们无法忍受，引发了法国大革命。在福山看来，欧洲国家中，只有英格兰和丹麦发展出了强大国家的三个核心要素：强大的国家，社会所有部分都实行法治，让国王承担责任的机制。这一成功的公式后来被其他欧洲国家采纳，就像自然选择过程偏爱最成功的变异。
福山说：“体制虽然是文化性的，但也很难改变。一旦它们被创造出来，人们就开始赋予它们内在的价值，通常是宗教价值。这一过程在稳定人类社会方面有着演化论的意义，因为接受了一套规则之后，一个社会在多年内都不必再为此而努力了。体制的惰性解释了为什么社会的变化一般很缓慢。体制不仅很难改变，而且很难发展出来。福山写道：“贫穷的国家之所以穷，不是因为缺少资源，而是因为缺少有效的政治体制。”在他看来，缺少法治是贫穷国家没能实现更高增长率的一个主要原因。欧洲的法治源自有组织的宗教，其民主却只是历史的偶然。如果没有封建制，欧洲的统治者也许也能拥有绝对的权力。
《经济学家》杂志说，福山的洞见有助于我们理解现代国家及其形成过程。“比如，从良好政治秩序的三个要素来看，现在的印度是一个国力弱小但能够向领导人问责、近乎迂腐地讲究法治的国家。福山的主题仍旧很宏大，但他能够准确地找出富有启示意义的细节。政治理论方面的著作很少有像这一部这样让人手不释卷。”
www.lifeweek.com.cn/2011/0418/31914.shtml
2011年11月1日星期二
同南开中学的师生们谈心
同南开中学的师生们谈心
温家宝
(2011年10月25日)
《 光明日报 》（ 2011年10月29日 02 版）
同学们、老师们:
屈指算来,我阔别南开中学已51年了,正式回母校看望师生,这还是第一次。我愿借此机会同大家谈谈心。
我1942年农历八月出生在天津北郊宜兴埠一个书香门第。我爷爷在村子里办学校,曾祖父是农民。再往以前,我家都是农民。我们家是从什么地方来到天津的,至今也没有人能说清楚。据说是从山西来投奔这里的温氏家族的。因为家里穷、没有地位,温氏家谱始终没有把我们家列入其中。
爷爷办的乡村小学,是冲破地主豪绅的阻力,第一个招收女生的学校。我记得,他常年为两件事奔波:一件是招聘教师,一件是为学校筹款。就是这样一所小学,很多教师都是大学毕业生,有的解放后当了教授。外婆家也在本村,外公去世很早,外婆靠开一个小药店谋生,家里还种着几亩地。每年秋天收玉米时,我坐在板车上玉米堆里从地里回家的情景至今历历在目。
我出生的年月正是日本侵略者在华北大扫荡和实行“三光”政策的时期。妈妈对我讲的一件事,至今记忆犹新:日本侵略者将全村人集合在村西南的空地上,四周架起机关枪,用刺刀杀死无辜的平民。当时,妈妈把我紧紧搂在怀里。这件事深深刻在我的脑海里。
天津解放前夕,国民党军队为“坚壁清野”放火烧了宜兴埠。我的家连同爷爷办的学校、外婆家和她的小药店,全部化为灰烬。我们家逃难到天津城里,住在救济院。外婆在逃难中生了病,没过多久就去世了。她是最疼爱我的人。孩提时代,她抱着我,我常常揪她的头发,她一点儿也不生气。天津解放的那一晚,是一个不眠之夜。解放军包围了驻扎在救济院里的国民党军队,当晚进行了激战,手榴弹扔进了院子里,家里人都害怕地躲在床铺下,我却一点儿也没有害怕。第二天,天津解放了。
我的童年是在战争和苦难中度过的,穷困、动荡、饥荒的往事在我幼小的心灵里留下了难以磨灭的印象。我深知,这不是我们一个家庭的苦难,也不是我出生的那个年代的苦难,中华民族的历史就是一部苦难史。我逐渐认识到一个道理:中华民族灾难深重极了,唯有科学、求实、民主、奋斗,才能拯救中国。“如将不尽,与古为新”、“周虽旧邦,其命维新”。只有推翻封建专制和官僚买办的统治,人民才能得到解放;只有不断革新,中国才能进步。
在我上小学、中学期间,家境十分贫寒。父母和我们三兄妹一直租住在一间不到9平方米的小屋子里,每月的房租相当于一袋面粉钱,那时父亲月工资最低时只有37元。我患过一次白喉,父亲把仅有的一块手表卖掉,买药给我打针。此后他多年没有戴过手表。因为经常目睹普通百姓生活的艰辛,我从小就富有同情心,这尤其表现为对普通百姓特别是穷人的同情,对不公道事情的憎恶。一种朴素的平等观念在我的心中萌生:人人生而平等,社会的每一个成员都应平等相处。
我的中学是在南开上的。从12岁到18岁是一个人成长的关键时期。因此,南开六年的学习生活,对我人生观的形成有着重要影响,也给我留下了终生难忘的印象。南开中学是一所历史悠久的学校,她的建立、成长和发展始终同国家的兴衰和民族的命运联系在一起。无论是战争年代,还是建设时期,她都为国家输送了大批人才,这就是南开的道路。我在这所学校里学习,首先懂得的就是一个人必须有远大的理想,有崇高的志向。从小就应该立志把自己的一生献给祖国和人民。我努力学习知识,坚持锻炼身体,刻苦自励,从学习和生活的点点滴滴入手,努力把自己造就成为一个对国家和人民有用的人。南开的校训是“允公允能,日新月异”。这八个字就是南开的灵魂,它提倡的是为公、进步、创新和改革。我上中学时就愿意独立思考,渴望发现问题,探索真知,追求真理。我记得,那时除了学习课本知识以外,我还广泛阅读国内外政治、经济、文化书籍。南开永葆青春,这就是南开精神。在求学期间,我和同学们总是朝气蓬勃,不怕困难,勇往直前。除了学习以外,我还喜欢参加各种课外活动。我不仅爱读书,还是体育爱好者。南开永远年轻,她的学生也都充满活力。我们要坚持走南开的道路,崇尚南开的风格,发扬南开的精神。
上高中和大学以后,我家里人在接连不断的政治运动中受到冲击。爷爷在1960年因脑溢血去世,是我把他背进医院的。现在他教过书的学校还留着他的档案,里面装了一篇篇的“检查”,小楷字写得工工整整,字里行间流露出对人民教育事业的忠诚。父亲也在1960年因被审查所谓的“历史问题”,不能教书,被送到郊外一个农场养猪,后来到图书馆工作。我考上大学向他告别就是在离城很远的养猪场。父亲告假回家帮我收拾行李。他是个老实人,一辈子勤勤恳恳。今年他过世了,可谓“生得安分,走得安详”。尽管家里出现这样一些情况,我仍然追求进步。我是个善于思考的人,我总是把书本里学到的东西同现实加以比较,立志为改造社会而献身。
因为父亲喜欢自然地理,我从小就对地球科学产生了兴趣。在北京地质学院,我在地质系就读5年。大学期间,我加入了中国共产党。后来又考取了研究生,专攻大地构造。回忆在地质学院近8年的学习和生活,我曾概括为三句话:母校给了我地质学知识,母校给了我克服困难的勇气,母校给了我接触群众的机会。那段时期同样是难忘的。
参加工作以后,我有14年时间是在海拔4000到5000米的极其艰苦的祁连山区和北山沙漠戈壁地区工作。这期间,我一边工作一边接触基层群众,更使我深深懂得了民生的疾苦和稼穑的艰难。我来自人民,我也有苦难的童年,我同情每一个穷人,愿为他们的幸福献出自己的一切。到中央工作后,从上世纪80年代中期开始,我用整整10年时间,深入农村、厂矿、科研院所调研。在农村,我白天坐在农民家的炕头上了解情况,晚上开座谈会。我住过乡里、住过粮库,经常在一个县一呆就是一个星期。我几乎走遍了中国科学院的研究所,同科学家交朋友、谈心。我认为,一个领导者最重要的是要懂得民情、民心、民意,而民心向背决定政权的存亡。衡量政策好坏的标准只有一条,就是群众高兴不高兴、满意不满意、答应不答应。我之所以经常讲穷人的经济学、穷人的政治学和穷人的教育学,就是想让人们懂得在中国乃至世界上,穷人占多数。一个政府、一个社会应该更多地关爱穷人,穷人应该拥有平等的权利。在中国,不懂得穷人,不懂得农民和城市贫困阶层,也就不会懂得穷人的经济学,更不可能树立穷人的教育观。公平的核心是在生存、竞争和发展的机会上人人平等,而不是基于财富或其他特权的平等。一个政府如果忽视民众和民生,就是忽视了根本。而公平和正义是社会的顶梁柱,失去了它,社会这个大厦就会倒塌。“国之命,在人心”,说的就是人心向背决定社会的发展和政权的存亡。政府是穷人最后的希望,民众的贫穷是政府最痛心的事。只有把这些道理真正弄懂,才算真正理解“以人为本”的含义。
新中国成立60多年来,特别是改革开放30多年来,我国经济社会发展取得了很大的成就,这是有目共睹的,必须充分肯定。但也要看到,我国经济社会发展还存在不平衡、不协调、不可持续的问题,城乡差距、地区差距依然存在;一些地方还存在干部脱离群众,形式主义、官僚主义严重,甚至以权谋私和贪污腐败的现象;收入分配不合理,有的地方社会矛盾比较突出,群体性事件时有发生。在这种情况下,我们必须做好经济发展、社会公正、民主法治和干部廉洁这几件大事。这都是人心所向,无论哪个方面出了问题,都会影响到社会稳定和国家安宁。而要做到这一切,必须在党的领导下,推进改革开放,坚持走中国特色社会主义道路。
我担任总理已近9年了。这段时期,我们国家遇到许多灾害和困难。从2003年的“非典”到2008年的汶川大地震,再到2010年舟曲特大山洪泥石流灾害,各种自然灾害和突发事件几乎没有中断过。百年不遇的国际金融危机已持续4年之久,给中国经济发展带来了极大的冲击。在这种情况下,我们的人民没有畏惧,没有退缩,总是满怀信心、坚持不懈地努力把自己的事情办好。我十分清楚,实现现代化目标,任务还十分艰巨,需要许多代人的长期艰苦奋斗。这一历史任务必将落在你们青年人肩上。未来是属于青年的。青年兴则国家兴,青年强则国家强。但愿青年朋友们以青春之人生,创造青春之中国、青春之社会,实现中华民族的伟大复兴。
讲到这里,我又想起了南开,中国没有南开不行,南开不与时俱进不行。这句话的意思是,中国需要教育,更需要有理想、有本领、勇于献身的青年,这是中国命脉之所在。张伯苓先生自创办南开之日起,就善于借鉴世界优秀文明成果,紧密结合中国国情,坚持自主办学,重视教育改革和创新,提倡个性教育和多样化教育,推崇“独立之精神、自由之思想”,努力培养全面发展的人才。57年前,当我坐在这座礼堂里第一次参加开学典礼的时候,杨坚白校长和杨志行校长穿着一样的米色中山装,并肩站在讲台上,用他们特有的气质给大家讲话,告诉我们做人的道理,这一幕我至今难以忘怀。南开之所以涌现出一大批志士仁人和科技、文化俊才,是因为她有自己的灵魂。人是要有灵魂的,学校也要有灵魂。让我们牢记“允公允能、日新月异”的校训,共同努力把南开办得更好,使“巍巍我南开精神”发扬光大,代代相传。
南开培养了我,南开是我心里的一块圣地,我是爱南开的。过去如此,现在依旧,而且愈发强烈。南开精神像一盏明灯,始终照亮着每一个南开人前进的道路。我愿同师生们一起奋斗,做一个无愧于南开的南开人!
温家宝
(2011年10月25日)
《 光明日报 》（ 2011年10月29日 02 版）
同学们、老师们:
屈指算来,我阔别南开中学已51年了,正式回母校看望师生,这还是第一次。我愿借此机会同大家谈谈心。
我1942年农历八月出生在天津北郊宜兴埠一个书香门第。我爷爷在村子里办学校,曾祖父是农民。再往以前,我家都是农民。我们家是从什么地方来到天津的,至今也没有人能说清楚。据说是从山西来投奔这里的温氏家族的。因为家里穷、没有地位,温氏家谱始终没有把我们家列入其中。
爷爷办的乡村小学,是冲破地主豪绅的阻力,第一个招收女生的学校。我记得,他常年为两件事奔波:一件是招聘教师,一件是为学校筹款。就是这样一所小学,很多教师都是大学毕业生,有的解放后当了教授。外婆家也在本村,外公去世很早,外婆靠开一个小药店谋生,家里还种着几亩地。每年秋天收玉米时,我坐在板车上玉米堆里从地里回家的情景至今历历在目。
我出生的年月正是日本侵略者在华北大扫荡和实行“三光”政策的时期。妈妈对我讲的一件事,至今记忆犹新:日本侵略者将全村人集合在村西南的空地上,四周架起机关枪,用刺刀杀死无辜的平民。当时,妈妈把我紧紧搂在怀里。这件事深深刻在我的脑海里。
天津解放前夕,国民党军队为“坚壁清野”放火烧了宜兴埠。我的家连同爷爷办的学校、外婆家和她的小药店,全部化为灰烬。我们家逃难到天津城里,住在救济院。外婆在逃难中生了病,没过多久就去世了。她是最疼爱我的人。孩提时代,她抱着我,我常常揪她的头发,她一点儿也不生气。天津解放的那一晚,是一个不眠之夜。解放军包围了驻扎在救济院里的国民党军队,当晚进行了激战,手榴弹扔进了院子里,家里人都害怕地躲在床铺下,我却一点儿也没有害怕。第二天,天津解放了。
我的童年是在战争和苦难中度过的,穷困、动荡、饥荒的往事在我幼小的心灵里留下了难以磨灭的印象。我深知,这不是我们一个家庭的苦难,也不是我出生的那个年代的苦难,中华民族的历史就是一部苦难史。我逐渐认识到一个道理:中华民族灾难深重极了,唯有科学、求实、民主、奋斗,才能拯救中国。“如将不尽,与古为新”、“周虽旧邦,其命维新”。只有推翻封建专制和官僚买办的统治,人民才能得到解放;只有不断革新,中国才能进步。
在我上小学、中学期间,家境十分贫寒。父母和我们三兄妹一直租住在一间不到9平方米的小屋子里,每月的房租相当于一袋面粉钱,那时父亲月工资最低时只有37元。我患过一次白喉,父亲把仅有的一块手表卖掉,买药给我打针。此后他多年没有戴过手表。因为经常目睹普通百姓生活的艰辛,我从小就富有同情心,这尤其表现为对普通百姓特别是穷人的同情,对不公道事情的憎恶。一种朴素的平等观念在我的心中萌生:人人生而平等,社会的每一个成员都应平等相处。
我的中学是在南开上的。从12岁到18岁是一个人成长的关键时期。因此,南开六年的学习生活,对我人生观的形成有着重要影响,也给我留下了终生难忘的印象。南开中学是一所历史悠久的学校,她的建立、成长和发展始终同国家的兴衰和民族的命运联系在一起。无论是战争年代,还是建设时期,她都为国家输送了大批人才,这就是南开的道路。我在这所学校里学习,首先懂得的就是一个人必须有远大的理想,有崇高的志向。从小就应该立志把自己的一生献给祖国和人民。我努力学习知识,坚持锻炼身体,刻苦自励,从学习和生活的点点滴滴入手,努力把自己造就成为一个对国家和人民有用的人。南开的校训是“允公允能,日新月异”。这八个字就是南开的灵魂,它提倡的是为公、进步、创新和改革。我上中学时就愿意独立思考,渴望发现问题,探索真知,追求真理。我记得,那时除了学习课本知识以外,我还广泛阅读国内外政治、经济、文化书籍。南开永葆青春,这就是南开精神。在求学期间,我和同学们总是朝气蓬勃,不怕困难,勇往直前。除了学习以外,我还喜欢参加各种课外活动。我不仅爱读书,还是体育爱好者。南开永远年轻,她的学生也都充满活力。我们要坚持走南开的道路,崇尚南开的风格,发扬南开的精神。
上高中和大学以后,我家里人在接连不断的政治运动中受到冲击。爷爷在1960年因脑溢血去世,是我把他背进医院的。现在他教过书的学校还留着他的档案,里面装了一篇篇的“检查”,小楷字写得工工整整,字里行间流露出对人民教育事业的忠诚。父亲也在1960年因被审查所谓的“历史问题”,不能教书,被送到郊外一个农场养猪,后来到图书馆工作。我考上大学向他告别就是在离城很远的养猪场。父亲告假回家帮我收拾行李。他是个老实人,一辈子勤勤恳恳。今年他过世了,可谓“生得安分,走得安详”。尽管家里出现这样一些情况,我仍然追求进步。我是个善于思考的人,我总是把书本里学到的东西同现实加以比较,立志为改造社会而献身。
因为父亲喜欢自然地理,我从小就对地球科学产生了兴趣。在北京地质学院,我在地质系就读5年。大学期间,我加入了中国共产党。后来又考取了研究生,专攻大地构造。回忆在地质学院近8年的学习和生活,我曾概括为三句话:母校给了我地质学知识,母校给了我克服困难的勇气,母校给了我接触群众的机会。那段时期同样是难忘的。
参加工作以后,我有14年时间是在海拔4000到5000米的极其艰苦的祁连山区和北山沙漠戈壁地区工作。这期间,我一边工作一边接触基层群众,更使我深深懂得了民生的疾苦和稼穑的艰难。我来自人民,我也有苦难的童年,我同情每一个穷人,愿为他们的幸福献出自己的一切。到中央工作后,从上世纪80年代中期开始,我用整整10年时间,深入农村、厂矿、科研院所调研。在农村,我白天坐在农民家的炕头上了解情况,晚上开座谈会。我住过乡里、住过粮库,经常在一个县一呆就是一个星期。我几乎走遍了中国科学院的研究所,同科学家交朋友、谈心。我认为,一个领导者最重要的是要懂得民情、民心、民意,而民心向背决定政权的存亡。衡量政策好坏的标准只有一条,就是群众高兴不高兴、满意不满意、答应不答应。我之所以经常讲穷人的经济学、穷人的政治学和穷人的教育学,就是想让人们懂得在中国乃至世界上,穷人占多数。一个政府、一个社会应该更多地关爱穷人,穷人应该拥有平等的权利。在中国,不懂得穷人,不懂得农民和城市贫困阶层,也就不会懂得穷人的经济学,更不可能树立穷人的教育观。公平的核心是在生存、竞争和发展的机会上人人平等,而不是基于财富或其他特权的平等。一个政府如果忽视民众和民生,就是忽视了根本。而公平和正义是社会的顶梁柱,失去了它,社会这个大厦就会倒塌。“国之命,在人心”,说的就是人心向背决定社会的发展和政权的存亡。政府是穷人最后的希望,民众的贫穷是政府最痛心的事。只有把这些道理真正弄懂,才算真正理解“以人为本”的含义。
新中国成立60多年来,特别是改革开放30多年来,我国经济社会发展取得了很大的成就,这是有目共睹的,必须充分肯定。但也要看到,我国经济社会发展还存在不平衡、不协调、不可持续的问题,城乡差距、地区差距依然存在;一些地方还存在干部脱离群众,形式主义、官僚主义严重,甚至以权谋私和贪污腐败的现象;收入分配不合理,有的地方社会矛盾比较突出,群体性事件时有发生。在这种情况下,我们必须做好经济发展、社会公正、民主法治和干部廉洁这几件大事。这都是人心所向,无论哪个方面出了问题,都会影响到社会稳定和国家安宁。而要做到这一切,必须在党的领导下,推进改革开放,坚持走中国特色社会主义道路。
我担任总理已近9年了。这段时期,我们国家遇到许多灾害和困难。从2003年的“非典”到2008年的汶川大地震,再到2010年舟曲特大山洪泥石流灾害,各种自然灾害和突发事件几乎没有中断过。百年不遇的国际金融危机已持续4年之久,给中国经济发展带来了极大的冲击。在这种情况下,我们的人民没有畏惧,没有退缩,总是满怀信心、坚持不懈地努力把自己的事情办好。我十分清楚,实现现代化目标,任务还十分艰巨,需要许多代人的长期艰苦奋斗。这一历史任务必将落在你们青年人肩上。未来是属于青年的。青年兴则国家兴,青年强则国家强。但愿青年朋友们以青春之人生,创造青春之中国、青春之社会,实现中华民族的伟大复兴。
讲到这里,我又想起了南开,中国没有南开不行,南开不与时俱进不行。这句话的意思是,中国需要教育,更需要有理想、有本领、勇于献身的青年,这是中国命脉之所在。张伯苓先生自创办南开之日起,就善于借鉴世界优秀文明成果,紧密结合中国国情,坚持自主办学,重视教育改革和创新,提倡个性教育和多样化教育,推崇“独立之精神、自由之思想”,努力培养全面发展的人才。57年前,当我坐在这座礼堂里第一次参加开学典礼的时候,杨坚白校长和杨志行校长穿着一样的米色中山装,并肩站在讲台上,用他们特有的气质给大家讲话,告诉我们做人的道理,这一幕我至今难以忘怀。南开之所以涌现出一大批志士仁人和科技、文化俊才,是因为她有自己的灵魂。人是要有灵魂的,学校也要有灵魂。让我们牢记“允公允能、日新月异”的校训,共同努力把南开办得更好,使“巍巍我南开精神”发扬光大,代代相传。
南开培养了我,南开是我心里的一块圣地,我是爱南开的。过去如此,现在依旧,而且愈发强烈。南开精神像一盏明灯,始终照亮着每一个南开人前进的道路。我愿同师生们一起奋斗,做一个无愧于南开的南开人!
A Sister’s Eulogy for Steve Jobs
A Sister’s Eulogy for Steve Jobs
By MONA SIMPSON
I grew up as an only child, with a single mother. Because we were poor and because I knew my father had emigrated from Syria, I imagined he looked like Omar Sharif. I hoped he would be rich and kind and would come into our lives (and our not yet furnished apartment) and help us. Later, after I’d met my father, I tried to believe he’d changed his number and left no forwarding address because he was an idealistic revolutionary, plotting a new world for the Arab people.
Even as a feminist, my whole life I’d been waiting for a man to love, who could love me. For decades, I’d thought that man would be my father. When I was 25, I met that man and he was my brother.
By then, I lived in New York, where I was trying to write my first novel. I had a job at a small magazine in an office the size of a closet, with three other aspiring writers. When one day a lawyer called me — me, the middle-class girl from California who hassled the boss to buy us health insurance — and said his client was rich and famous and was my long-lost brother, the young editors went wild. This was 1985 and we worked at a cutting-edge literary magazine, but I’d fallen into the plot of a Dickens novel and really, we all loved those best. The lawyer refused to tell me my brother’s name and my colleagues started a betting pool. The leading candidate: John Travolta. I secretly hoped for a literary descendant of Henry James — someone more talented than I, someone brilliant without even trying.
When I met Steve, he was a guy my age in jeans, Arab- or Jewish-looking and handsomer than Omar Sharif.
We took a long walk — something, it happened, that we both liked to do. I don’t remember much of what we said that first day, only that he felt like someone I’d pick to be a friend. He explained that he worked in computers.
I didn’t know much about computers. I still worked on a manual Olivetti typewriter.
I told Steve I’d recently considered my first purchase of a computer: something called the Cromemco.
Steve told me it was a good thing I’d waited. He said he was making something that was going to be insanely beautiful.
I want to tell you a few things I learned from Steve, during three distinct periods, over the 27 years I knew him. They’re not periods of years, but of states of being. His full life. His illness. His dying.
Steve worked at what he loved. He worked really hard. Every day.
That’s incredibly simple, but true.
He was the opposite of absent-minded.
He was never embarrassed about working hard, even if the results were failures. If someone as smart as Steve wasn’t ashamed to admit trying, maybe I didn’t have to be.
When he got kicked out of Apple, things were painful. He told me about a dinner at which 500 Silicon Valley leaders met the then-sitting president. Steve hadn’t been invited.
He was hurt but he still went to work at Next. Every single day.
Novelty was not Steve’s highest value. Beauty was.
For an innovator, Steve was remarkably loyal. If he loved a shirt, he’d order 10 or 100 of them. In the Palo Alto house, there are probably enough black cotton turtlenecks for everyone in this church.
He didn’t favor trends or gimmicks. He liked people his own age.
His philosophy of aesthetics reminds me of a quote that went something like this: “Fashion is what seems beautiful now but looks ugly later; art can be ugly at first but it becomes beautiful later.”
Steve always aspired to make beautiful later.
He was willing to be misunderstood.
Uninvited to the ball, he drove the third or fourth iteration of his same black sports car to Next, where he and his team were quietly inventing the platform on which Tim Berners-Lee would write the program for the World Wide Web.
Steve was like a girl in the amount of time he spent talking about love. Love was his supreme virtue, his god of gods. He tracked and worried about the romantic lives of the people working with him.
Whenever he saw a man he thought a woman might find dashing, he called out, “Hey are you single? Do you wanna come to dinner with my sister?”
I remember when he phoned the day he met Laurene. “There’s this beautiful woman and she’s really smart and she has this dog and I’m going to marry her.”
When Reed was born, he began gushing and never stopped. He was a physical dad, with each of his children. He fretted over Lisa’s boyfriends and Erin’s travel and skirt lengths and Eve’s safety around the horses she adored.
None of us who attended Reed’s graduation party will ever forget the scene of Reed and Steve slow dancing.
His abiding love for Laurene sustained him. He believed that love happened all the time, everywhere. In that most important way, Steve was never ironic, never cynical, never pessimistic. I try to learn from that, still.
Steve had been successful at a young age, and he felt that had isolated him. Most of the choices he made from the time I knew him were designed to dissolve the walls around him. A middle-class boy from Los Altos, he fell in love with a middle-class girl from New Jersey. It was important to both of them to raise Lisa, Reed, Erin and Eve as grounded, normal children. Their house didn’t intimidate with art or polish; in fact, for many of the first years I knew Steve and Lo together, dinner was served on the grass, and sometimes consisted of just one vegetable. Lots of that one vegetable. But one. Broccoli. In season. Simply prepared. With just the right, recently snipped, herb.
Even as a young millionaire, Steve always picked me up at the airport. He’d be standing there in his jeans.
When a family member called him at work, his secretary Linetta answered, “Your dad’s in a meeting. Would you like me to interrupt him?”
When Reed insisted on dressing up as a witch every Halloween, Steve, Laurene, Erin and Eve all went wiccan.
They once embarked on a kitchen remodel; it took years. They cooked on a hotplate in the garage. The Pixar building, under construction during the same period, finished in half the time. And that was it for the Palo Alto house. The bathrooms stayed old. But — and this was a crucial distinction — it had been a great house to start with; Steve saw to that.
This is not to say that he didn’t enjoy his success: he enjoyed his success a lot, just minus a few zeros. He told me how much he loved going to the Palo Alto bike store and gleefully realizing he could afford to buy the best bike there.
And he did.
Steve was humble. Steve liked to keep learning.
Once, he told me if he’d grown up differently, he might have become a mathematician. He spoke reverently about colleges and loved walking around the Stanford campus. In the last year of his life, he studied a book of paintings by Mark Rothko, an artist he hadn’t known about before, thinking of what could inspire people on the walls of a future Apple campus.
Steve cultivated whimsy. What other C.E.O. knows the history of English and Chinese tea roses and has a favorite David Austin rose?
He had surprises tucked in all his pockets. I’ll venture that Laurene will discover treats — songs he loved, a poem he cut out and put in a drawer — even after 20 years of an exceptionally close marriage. I spoke to him every other day or so, but when I opened The New York Times and saw a feature on the company’s patents, I was still surprised and delighted to see a sketch for a perfect staircase.
With his four children, with his wife, with all of us, Steve had a lot of fun.
He treasured happiness.
Then, Steve became ill and we watched his life compress into a smaller circle. Once, he’d loved walking through Paris. He’d discovered a small handmade soba shop in Kyoto. He downhill skied gracefully. He cross-country skied clumsily. No more.
Eventually, even ordinary pleasures, like a good peach, no longer appealed to him.
Yet, what amazed me, and what I learned from his illness, was how much was still left after so much had been taken away.
I remember my brother learning to walk again, with a chair. After his liver transplant, once a day he would get up on legs that seemed too thin to bear him, arms pitched to the chair back. He’d push that chair down the Memphis hospital corridor towards the nursing station and then he’d sit down on the chair, rest, turn around and walk back again. He counted his steps and, each day, pressed a little farther.
Laurene got down on her knees and looked into his eyes.
“You can do this, Steve,” she said. His eyes widened. His lips pressed into each other.
He tried. He always, always tried, and always with love at the core of that effort. He was an intensely emotional man.
I realized during that terrifying time that Steve was not enduring the pain for himself. He set destinations: his son Reed’s graduation from high school, his daughter Erin’s trip to Kyoto, the launching of a boat he was building on which he planned to take his family around the world and where he hoped he and Laurene would someday retire.
Even ill, his taste, his discrimination and his judgment held. He went through 67 nurses before finding kindred spirits and then he completely trusted the three who stayed with him to the end. Tracy. Arturo. Elham.
One time when Steve had contracted a tenacious pneumonia his doctor forbid everything — even ice. We were in a standard I.C.U. unit. Steve, who generally disliked cutting in line or dropping his own name, confessed that this once, he’d like to be treated a little specially.
I told him: Steve, this is special treatment.
He leaned over to me, and said: “I want it to be a little more special.”
Intubated, when he couldn’t talk, he asked for a notepad. He sketched devices to hold an iPad in a hospital bed. He designed new fluid monitors and x-ray equipment. He redrew that not-quite-special-enough hospital unit. And every time his wife walked into the room, I watched his smile remake itself on his face.
For the really big, big things, you have to trust me, he wrote on his sketchpad. He looked up. You have to.
By that, he meant that we should disobey the doctors and give him a piece of ice.
None of us knows for certain how long we’ll be here. On Steve’s better days, even in the last year, he embarked upon projects and elicited promises from his friends at Apple to finish them. Some boat builders in the Netherlands have a gorgeous stainless steel hull ready to be covered with the finishing wood. His three daughters remain unmarried, his two youngest still girls, and he’d wanted to walk them down the aisle as he’d walked me the day of my wedding.
We all — in the end — die in medias res. In the middle of a story. Of many stories.
I suppose it’s not quite accurate to call the death of someone who lived with cancer for years unexpected, but Steve’s death was unexpected for us.
What I learned from my brother’s death was that character is essential: What he was, was how he died.
Tuesday morning, he called me to ask me to hurry up to Palo Alto. His tone was affectionate, dear, loving, but like someone whose luggage was already strapped onto the vehicle, who was already on the beginning of his journey, even as he was sorry, truly deeply sorry, to be leaving us.
He started his farewell and I stopped him. I said, “Wait. I’m coming. I’m in a taxi to the airport. I’ll be there.”
“I’m telling you now because I’m afraid you won’t make it on time, honey.”
When I arrived, he and his Laurene were joking together like partners who’d lived and worked together every day of their lives. He looked into his children’s eyes as if he couldn’t unlock his gaze.
Until about 2 in the afternoon, his wife could rouse him, to talk to his friends from Apple.
Then, after awhile, it was clear that he would no longer wake to us.
His breathing changed. It became severe, deliberate, purposeful. I could feel him counting his steps again, pushing farther than before.
This is what I learned: he was working at this, too. Death didn’t happen to Steve, he achieved it.
He told me, when he was saying goodbye and telling me he was sorry, so sorry we wouldn’t be able to be old together as we’d always planned, that he was going to a better place.
Dr. Fischer gave him a 50/50 chance of making it through the night.
He made it through the night, Laurene next to him on the bed sometimes jerked up when there was a longer pause between his breaths. She and I looked at each other, then he would heave a deep breath and begin again.
This had to be done. Even now, he had a stern, still handsome profile, the profile of an absolutist, a romantic. His breath indicated an arduous journey, some steep path, altitude.
He seemed to be climbing.
But with that will, that work ethic, that strength, there was also sweet Steve’s capacity for wonderment, the artist’s belief in the ideal, the still more beautiful later.
Steve’s final words, hours earlier, were monosyllables, repeated three times.
Before embarking, he’d looked at his sister Patty, then for a long time at his children, then at his life’s partner, Laurene, and then over their shoulders past them.
Steve’s final words were:
OH WOW. OH WOW. OH WOW.
Mona Simpson is a novelist and a professor of English at the University of California, Los Angeles. She delivered this eulogy for her brother, Steve Jobs, on Oct. 16 at his memorial service at the Memorial Church of Stanford University.
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/10/30/opinion/mona-simpsons-eulogy-for-steve-jobs.html
By MONA SIMPSON
I grew up as an only child, with a single mother. Because we were poor and because I knew my father had emigrated from Syria, I imagined he looked like Omar Sharif. I hoped he would be rich and kind and would come into our lives (and our not yet furnished apartment) and help us. Later, after I’d met my father, I tried to believe he’d changed his number and left no forwarding address because he was an idealistic revolutionary, plotting a new world for the Arab people.
Even as a feminist, my whole life I’d been waiting for a man to love, who could love me. For decades, I’d thought that man would be my father. When I was 25, I met that man and he was my brother.
By then, I lived in New York, where I was trying to write my first novel. I had a job at a small magazine in an office the size of a closet, with three other aspiring writers. When one day a lawyer called me — me, the middle-class girl from California who hassled the boss to buy us health insurance — and said his client was rich and famous and was my long-lost brother, the young editors went wild. This was 1985 and we worked at a cutting-edge literary magazine, but I’d fallen into the plot of a Dickens novel and really, we all loved those best. The lawyer refused to tell me my brother’s name and my colleagues started a betting pool. The leading candidate: John Travolta. I secretly hoped for a literary descendant of Henry James — someone more talented than I, someone brilliant without even trying.
When I met Steve, he was a guy my age in jeans, Arab- or Jewish-looking and handsomer than Omar Sharif.
We took a long walk — something, it happened, that we both liked to do. I don’t remember much of what we said that first day, only that he felt like someone I’d pick to be a friend. He explained that he worked in computers.
I didn’t know much about computers. I still worked on a manual Olivetti typewriter.
I told Steve I’d recently considered my first purchase of a computer: something called the Cromemco.
Steve told me it was a good thing I’d waited. He said he was making something that was going to be insanely beautiful.
I want to tell you a few things I learned from Steve, during three distinct periods, over the 27 years I knew him. They’re not periods of years, but of states of being. His full life. His illness. His dying.
Steve worked at what he loved. He worked really hard. Every day.
That’s incredibly simple, but true.
He was the opposite of absent-minded.
He was never embarrassed about working hard, even if the results were failures. If someone as smart as Steve wasn’t ashamed to admit trying, maybe I didn’t have to be.
When he got kicked out of Apple, things were painful. He told me about a dinner at which 500 Silicon Valley leaders met the then-sitting president. Steve hadn’t been invited.
He was hurt but he still went to work at Next. Every single day.
Novelty was not Steve’s highest value. Beauty was.
For an innovator, Steve was remarkably loyal. If he loved a shirt, he’d order 10 or 100 of them. In the Palo Alto house, there are probably enough black cotton turtlenecks for everyone in this church.
He didn’t favor trends or gimmicks. He liked people his own age.
His philosophy of aesthetics reminds me of a quote that went something like this: “Fashion is what seems beautiful now but looks ugly later; art can be ugly at first but it becomes beautiful later.”
Steve always aspired to make beautiful later.
He was willing to be misunderstood.
Uninvited to the ball, he drove the third or fourth iteration of his same black sports car to Next, where he and his team were quietly inventing the platform on which Tim Berners-Lee would write the program for the World Wide Web.
Steve was like a girl in the amount of time he spent talking about love. Love was his supreme virtue, his god of gods. He tracked and worried about the romantic lives of the people working with him.
Whenever he saw a man he thought a woman might find dashing, he called out, “Hey are you single? Do you wanna come to dinner with my sister?”
I remember when he phoned the day he met Laurene. “There’s this beautiful woman and she’s really smart and she has this dog and I’m going to marry her.”
When Reed was born, he began gushing and never stopped. He was a physical dad, with each of his children. He fretted over Lisa’s boyfriends and Erin’s travel and skirt lengths and Eve’s safety around the horses she adored.
None of us who attended Reed’s graduation party will ever forget the scene of Reed and Steve slow dancing.
His abiding love for Laurene sustained him. He believed that love happened all the time, everywhere. In that most important way, Steve was never ironic, never cynical, never pessimistic. I try to learn from that, still.
Steve had been successful at a young age, and he felt that had isolated him. Most of the choices he made from the time I knew him were designed to dissolve the walls around him. A middle-class boy from Los Altos, he fell in love with a middle-class girl from New Jersey. It was important to both of them to raise Lisa, Reed, Erin and Eve as grounded, normal children. Their house didn’t intimidate with art or polish; in fact, for many of the first years I knew Steve and Lo together, dinner was served on the grass, and sometimes consisted of just one vegetable. Lots of that one vegetable. But one. Broccoli. In season. Simply prepared. With just the right, recently snipped, herb.
Even as a young millionaire, Steve always picked me up at the airport. He’d be standing there in his jeans.
When a family member called him at work, his secretary Linetta answered, “Your dad’s in a meeting. Would you like me to interrupt him?”
When Reed insisted on dressing up as a witch every Halloween, Steve, Laurene, Erin and Eve all went wiccan.
They once embarked on a kitchen remodel; it took years. They cooked on a hotplate in the garage. The Pixar building, under construction during the same period, finished in half the time. And that was it for the Palo Alto house. The bathrooms stayed old. But — and this was a crucial distinction — it had been a great house to start with; Steve saw to that.
This is not to say that he didn’t enjoy his success: he enjoyed his success a lot, just minus a few zeros. He told me how much he loved going to the Palo Alto bike store and gleefully realizing he could afford to buy the best bike there.
And he did.
Steve was humble. Steve liked to keep learning.
Once, he told me if he’d grown up differently, he might have become a mathematician. He spoke reverently about colleges and loved walking around the Stanford campus. In the last year of his life, he studied a book of paintings by Mark Rothko, an artist he hadn’t known about before, thinking of what could inspire people on the walls of a future Apple campus.
Steve cultivated whimsy. What other C.E.O. knows the history of English and Chinese tea roses and has a favorite David Austin rose?
He had surprises tucked in all his pockets. I’ll venture that Laurene will discover treats — songs he loved, a poem he cut out and put in a drawer — even after 20 years of an exceptionally close marriage. I spoke to him every other day or so, but when I opened The New York Times and saw a feature on the company’s patents, I was still surprised and delighted to see a sketch for a perfect staircase.
With his four children, with his wife, with all of us, Steve had a lot of fun.
He treasured happiness.
Then, Steve became ill and we watched his life compress into a smaller circle. Once, he’d loved walking through Paris. He’d discovered a small handmade soba shop in Kyoto. He downhill skied gracefully. He cross-country skied clumsily. No more.
Eventually, even ordinary pleasures, like a good peach, no longer appealed to him.
Yet, what amazed me, and what I learned from his illness, was how much was still left after so much had been taken away.
I remember my brother learning to walk again, with a chair. After his liver transplant, once a day he would get up on legs that seemed too thin to bear him, arms pitched to the chair back. He’d push that chair down the Memphis hospital corridor towards the nursing station and then he’d sit down on the chair, rest, turn around and walk back again. He counted his steps and, each day, pressed a little farther.
Laurene got down on her knees and looked into his eyes.
“You can do this, Steve,” she said. His eyes widened. His lips pressed into each other.
He tried. He always, always tried, and always with love at the core of that effort. He was an intensely emotional man.
I realized during that terrifying time that Steve was not enduring the pain for himself. He set destinations: his son Reed’s graduation from high school, his daughter Erin’s trip to Kyoto, the launching of a boat he was building on which he planned to take his family around the world and where he hoped he and Laurene would someday retire.
Even ill, his taste, his discrimination and his judgment held. He went through 67 nurses before finding kindred spirits and then he completely trusted the three who stayed with him to the end. Tracy. Arturo. Elham.
One time when Steve had contracted a tenacious pneumonia his doctor forbid everything — even ice. We were in a standard I.C.U. unit. Steve, who generally disliked cutting in line or dropping his own name, confessed that this once, he’d like to be treated a little specially.
I told him: Steve, this is special treatment.
He leaned over to me, and said: “I want it to be a little more special.”
Intubated, when he couldn’t talk, he asked for a notepad. He sketched devices to hold an iPad in a hospital bed. He designed new fluid monitors and x-ray equipment. He redrew that not-quite-special-enough hospital unit. And every time his wife walked into the room, I watched his smile remake itself on his face.
For the really big, big things, you have to trust me, he wrote on his sketchpad. He looked up. You have to.
By that, he meant that we should disobey the doctors and give him a piece of ice.
None of us knows for certain how long we’ll be here. On Steve’s better days, even in the last year, he embarked upon projects and elicited promises from his friends at Apple to finish them. Some boat builders in the Netherlands have a gorgeous stainless steel hull ready to be covered with the finishing wood. His three daughters remain unmarried, his two youngest still girls, and he’d wanted to walk them down the aisle as he’d walked me the day of my wedding.
We all — in the end — die in medias res. In the middle of a story. Of many stories.
I suppose it’s not quite accurate to call the death of someone who lived with cancer for years unexpected, but Steve’s death was unexpected for us.
What I learned from my brother’s death was that character is essential: What he was, was how he died.
Tuesday morning, he called me to ask me to hurry up to Palo Alto. His tone was affectionate, dear, loving, but like someone whose luggage was already strapped onto the vehicle, who was already on the beginning of his journey, even as he was sorry, truly deeply sorry, to be leaving us.
He started his farewell and I stopped him. I said, “Wait. I’m coming. I’m in a taxi to the airport. I’ll be there.”
“I’m telling you now because I’m afraid you won’t make it on time, honey.”
When I arrived, he and his Laurene were joking together like partners who’d lived and worked together every day of their lives. He looked into his children’s eyes as if he couldn’t unlock his gaze.
Until about 2 in the afternoon, his wife could rouse him, to talk to his friends from Apple.
Then, after awhile, it was clear that he would no longer wake to us.
His breathing changed. It became severe, deliberate, purposeful. I could feel him counting his steps again, pushing farther than before.
This is what I learned: he was working at this, too. Death didn’t happen to Steve, he achieved it.
He told me, when he was saying goodbye and telling me he was sorry, so sorry we wouldn’t be able to be old together as we’d always planned, that he was going to a better place.
Dr. Fischer gave him a 50/50 chance of making it through the night.
He made it through the night, Laurene next to him on the bed sometimes jerked up when there was a longer pause between his breaths. She and I looked at each other, then he would heave a deep breath and begin again.
This had to be done. Even now, he had a stern, still handsome profile, the profile of an absolutist, a romantic. His breath indicated an arduous journey, some steep path, altitude.
He seemed to be climbing.
But with that will, that work ethic, that strength, there was also sweet Steve’s capacity for wonderment, the artist’s belief in the ideal, the still more beautiful later.
Steve’s final words, hours earlier, were monosyllables, repeated three times.
Before embarking, he’d looked at his sister Patty, then for a long time at his children, then at his life’s partner, Laurene, and then over their shoulders past them.
Steve’s final words were:
OH WOW. OH WOW. OH WOW.
Mona Simpson is a novelist and a professor of English at the University of California, Los Angeles. She delivered this eulogy for her brother, Steve Jobs, on Oct. 16 at his memorial service at the Memorial Church of Stanford University.
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/10/30/opinion/mona-simpsons-eulogy-for-steve-jobs.html
2011年10月21日星期五
2011年8月20日星期六
中国要崛起，必须告别革命外交
此文導致《南風窗》的記者及社長被停職。
中国要崛起，必须告别革命外交
——专访台湾政治大学历史系教授唐启华
文|本刊记者|赵灵敏发自台北，《南风窗》，2011.8.3
在国人的印象里，清末和民国时期的中国外交丧权辱国、一塌糊涂，简直就是一部“国耻史”、“卖国史”，左右离不开“颟顸”、“误国”、“无能”、“卖国贼”、“汉奸”、“妥协”、“投降”等负面形容词。这种悲情的近代史理解，是近代中国狭隘民族主义的源头，到今天仍然深刻影响着国人看待世界的角度和方式。
近日，一封署名为“项城袁氏家族联谊会”的公开信引发了人们的广泛关注，信中认为袁世凯从未签署所谓的“二十一条”，而只是签署了《中日关于山东问题条约》和《中日关于南满即东蒙古问题条约》，这两个条约加起来也只有11条，而且没有出卖主权的条款。前几年热播的电视剧《走向共和》，也为我们塑造了一系列与以往截然不同的晚清民国历史人物形象。
那么，在我们惯常的非黑即白的革命爱国叙事结构之外，那一时期的外交到底有着怎样的历史风貌？记者就此采访了专治近代中国外交史的台湾政治大学历史系教授唐启华。
独尊“革命”的近代史
《南风窗》：对辛亥革命前后的历史人物，如孙中山和袁世凯，人们已经形成了刻板的思维定势：前者好，是革命先行者；后者坏，是坏蛋卖国贼。但唐德刚先生在《袁氏当国》里，对孙中山后期专制的一面进行了批评，也肯定了袁世凯“治世之能臣”的一面。那从外交史的角度看，您对他们两人有着怎样的评价？
唐启华：我们以往的教科书和外交史确实是批评袁世凯推崇孙中山的。袁世凯在外交方面的恶名，主要来自关于“二十一条”的交涉，以往的史学家认为他为了称帝，投日卖国，不惜接受“二十一条”。但我查阅过英国和日本的外交档案后，发现情形恰恰相反。事实上，袁世凯幷未接受“二十一条”，在双方交涉之初，袁就疾言厉色地告诉日使，可让者自可谈判，不可让者如第五条等，则绝不能让。在其后历时4个月的谈判中，外长陆征祥，次长曹汝霖和驻日公使陆宗舆等，受尽折磨和屈辱，即使是有妥协情形的曹汝霖，也是“激愤之情溢于言表”。
最后，经过4个月的抗争，加上舆论的压力，日本放弃了“二十一条”中最凶残的要求，和中国签订了《中日新约》9条和关于山东问题的条约。我们如果把日本人最初的要求和签订的新约做比较，就会发现其中的天壤之别。在日方的档案中，这是一场失败的交涉，日本外务大臣因此辞职。当然，新约也是一部丧权辱国的条约，但日本要灭亡中国的目的终究没有达到。
相反，孙中山在护法运动失败后，长期寻求军阀对他的支持以失败告终后，转而向日本提出割让满洲，海南岛，组织国民革命军由日本军官带领，出让全国的警察管辖权和税务权，以换得日本派兵出战，后来甚至向日本表示平津和内蒙也不要了。这些权益是袁世凯也不敢让的。
《南风窗》：既然如此，为何我们的教科书、公众甚至历史学家都认为孙好袁坏呢？
唐启华：今天我们对历史包括近代史的理解，是基于片面扭曲的历史诠释之上。因为国共两党都是革命党，对历史的诠释往往出于宣传的需要，不一定是历史事实，甚至将党派利益放在国家利益和是非之上，认为为了目的可以不择手段。台湾虽然经过了政党轮替，国民党被塑造为独裁专制的代名词，但受影响的主要是对台湾史的诠释，中国近代史的部分幷未受到挑战。
由于国共两党皆以反帝、反军阀、废除不平等条约为民初历史诠释的基调。两岸学界对当时外交史的研究，大多集中于广州、武汉到南京国民政府的“革命外交”。北京政府被视为革命的对立面，外交上纵使有零星的优异表现，也因政治不正确而长期遭到忽视与扭曲。独尊“革命”，在非常时期或有其必要，但数十年来成为常态，窄化了我们近代史理解的视野，导致中国外交史研究，不注重外交常规之交涉谈判，只注重谴责帝国主义侵略，宣扬“革命外交”之必要性。
《南风窗》：那么，您怎么评价北洋时期的内政和外交？
唐启华：北洋时代从袁世凯小站练兵开始，到国民革命军北伐成功，东北易帜结束。国共两党都极力攻击北洋时期，把北洋时期说成一个中国历史上最黑暗的时代，与洋务运动失败、北洋水师覆灭、北洋军阀卖国等刻板印象相连接。北洋时代是否是军阀混战，民不聊生？我个人觉得需要仔细研究之后才能下定论。
事实上，北洋是一个被丑化的时代和力量。中国要往上走，是可以从北洋时代得到启发的。那时虽然军阀混战，但彼此之间还是有道义上的约束，不会赶尽杀绝；北洋内部派系林立，轮流执政，这对今天的政改是有借鉴意义的；北洋时代是一个多元化的时代，社会氛围自由宽松，没有官方的意识形态，观念上百花齐放，有学术自由，是知识分子和教育的黄金时代。
在外交上，通过对清末旧的外交机构的改造，破旧立新，完成了外交机构的现代化，使得一批专业化、技术化的新式外交官登上了外交舞台。他们通过各种形式到国外接受专门教育，是中国最早开眼看世界的群体。由于军阀不管外交，外交官威望崇高，外交不受党派利益的牵制，能够从现实的国家利益出发，比起其他部门更能独立决策且具延续性。但由于长期的革命外交灌输，在列强档案中形容为狡猾、优秀、难缠的北洋外交官，在我们的教科书中成了“买办”、“走狗”、“西崽”，交涉成果被一笔勾销。
《南风窗》：但无论如何，这一时期的外交还是丧失了很多国家权益呀？比如巴黎和会，中国是战胜国，但在山东问题的交涉上依然失败了。
唐启华：外交的基础是国家实力。清末民初正值帝国主义外交高潮，弱肉强食被视为天经地义，中国赖列强均势，免于瓜分已属万幸；加以列强在华条约利益一致，中外实力差距太大。在这种情况下的外交，要全面挽救颓势是不可能的，只能寻求局部的突破，力求不丧失新的权利，或将已失权利加以严格限制。哈佛大学教授柯伟林认为，民国时期的中国外交相当不简单，在内乱不断的情况下，居然将清朝遗留下来的版图，大致维持完整，是不可忽视的成就。
巴黎和会上山东问题交涉的失败，是因为当时日美之争，美国以牺牲中国为代价，对日本做的让步。中国最终没有在对德合约上签字，第一次对列强说“不”，而且日本最终也没有获得山东的统治权。除此之外，中国在巴黎和会上还是有很多外交成就的。中国签署了对奥合约、对匈牙利合约、对保加利亚和约，第一次以战胜国姿态出现于国际社会。顾维钧代表中国还签署了国际航空专约，使中国与其他国家具有同样的领空权。加入国联是中国加入形成中的国际社会的开端，中国当时缴纳会费所占的比例是今天中国联合国会费的3倍。入选国联行政院意味着中国具有处理世界问题的资格，王宠惠还成为入选国际法院法官的第一个中国人。
当然，北洋时期的外交有功有过，但我们不能只看到以前的坏，看不到它的好，更不能只强调今天的成就和过去的失误，不能自己让步就是顾全大局，别人让步就是丧权辱国，不能有双重标准。
被“废约”遮蔽的“修约”
《南风窗》：在近代中国人的脑海里，没有比“不平等条约”更能激起强烈的民族情绪。您怎样看待“废除不平等条约”这一口号？
唐启华：近代中国与世界接触以来，饱尝屈辱与挫折，“不平等条约”可称得上最明显的伤痕。1920年代以来“反帝废约”、“废除不平等条约”等爱国宣传，开始深入人心，自此是谁“废除不平等条约”终结百年国耻，与政权的合法性密切相关。
国民政府受惠于五卅之后反帝反军阀激情，于大革命之后取得政权，强调其始终致力于废约，幷在抗战期间，签订《中美新约》、《中英新约》等，废除“不平等条约”，但贬抑轴心国交还特权给汪精卫政权之重要性。中共则贬抑国民政府废除“不平等条约”的成果，指出尚有许多未收回的权利，强调是中共最先提出废约主张，幷进行了坚持不懈的奋斗；1949年建国之后，彻底扫除帝国主义势力及影响，解除了套在中华民族身上“不平等条约”的锁链。最后，香港，澳门回归，才算真正终结百年国耻。
事实上，“不平等条约”负载了百年民族悲情，政治意涵浓厚，其概念的提出和使用，就意味着对条约的合法性及效力的怀疑与挑战，进而主张“废除”之，但太过强调“不平等条约”在道德上的瑕疵，及“废约”在道德上的优越性，会有自相矛盾之处。清政府也曾在外国享有条约特权，如在朝鲜有专管租界3处，另外在甑南浦等公共租界中也有中国租界，幷享有领事裁判权。《马关条约》之前，中国和日本互享领事裁判权等。
应该说，“废约”的主要作用是对内的，与现实政治密切相关。丰富精彩的“修约”历程与成果，被“废约”观念所遮蔽，致使几代外交官的努力被遗忘，中国外交的诸多特色和发展历程被忽视扭曲，无法总结成果，平心理解过去。
《南风窗》：那么，“修约”和“废约”之间到底是什么关系？
唐启华：摆脱条约束缚是举国一致的目标，“修约”和“废约”都是达成目标的手段。“修约”循法律途径，依据法理要求改订平等条约；若对手国坚持不肯修订旧约，则可诉诸革命及民意，走政治路线“废约”，摆脱旧约束缚，目的仍在重订平等新约。“修约”和“废约”两者应是相辅相成的，可以视环境、时事及本身环境，做不同的选择或交互运用。“条约必须信守”是历史悠久的西方法律传统，条约可以修改，但修改条约不应否定“条约必须信守”的原则。
但1925年五卅惨案之后，国共两党力主“反帝废约”，强调废除与修改为截然不同的两件事，将“修约”定义为与帝国主义妥协投降的卖国行为，认为只有“废约”才能解除束缚，摆脱半殖民地位。自此，“修约”与“废约”成了泾渭分明不能调和的两条路线，是否主张无条件“废除不平等条约”作为爱国主义和反革命、好与坏的分水岭。“修约”在国人心目中已根深蒂固成为负面名词。
《南风窗》：在“修约”方面，北洋政府做了哪些努力？成效如何？
唐启华：当时北京政府虽然衰微，但仍是被各国承认的中央政府，在国际上代表中国。1919年以后，其“修约”朝有约国、战败国及无约国三个方向发展：对有约国，在巴黎和会上要求舍弃势力范围等7项特权，虽大会未予受理，但已系中国首次明确表达对条约束缚的不满；对战败国，要求废除旧约重订平等新约，得到允准。1921年5月签订的《中德协约》是第一个明文规范无最惠国待遇、领事裁判权、协议关税各款的平等新约，也得到了独一无二的战争赔款；对无约国，1919年春北京政府颁令，与无约国谈判时坚持平等互惠不再给予特权，即使谈判不成，也不愿迁就。12月，北京政府与玻利维亚订约建交，开创完全平等互惠条约之先例。
1926年初，北京政府决定改采“到期修约”方针，陆续与条约期满国家个别谈判改约。4月，北京外交部通知比利时要求《中比条约》期满修约，由于比国不愿接受中方条件，北京政府乃毅然于11月6日宣布废止《中比条约》，是为中国外交史破天荒之壮举。不久，比利时宣布归还天津租界，其后双方达成新约。1927年11月，北京政府再宣布废止《中西条约》，由“到期修约”发展到“到期修改、期满作废”。
1928年，中丹、中葡、中意等条约到期，北京外交部分别交涉修约，但未有成果。北洋政府在倾覆之前，与波兰、希腊签订平等条约，是为北洋修约的最后成绩。
告别“革命外交”
《南风窗》：您的这一系列观点，恐怕会被认为是在做历史翻案文章。
唐启华：我的研究不在于翻案，也不在于否定他人的历史记忆，检讨他人珍视的传统，而是提供一种多元看待历史的方式。过去80多年来，受革命宣传的影响，“废除不平等条约”与“反帝废约”激发了人民的爱国情操，在收回国权上取得了丰硕成果。“中国人民站起来”的民族自信心是弥足珍贵的。多年宣传的影响，已是铁一般的事实，每个人的历史记忆都应该尊重。然而，过去的历史记忆，过度一元、单调、贫瘠，“反帝废约”激情在完成阶段性任务后，可能会妨碍中国和平崛起的脚步，限制了迈向大国的历史想象空间。在此问题上，我们应该形成全面均衡的历史理解，进而能与各国平心对话，关照彼此的世界观，大步迈向全球化时代。
《南风窗》：您主要是在担心狭隘民族主义的影响吗？在处理对外特别是对西方的关系上，中国人往往爱、恨、怕交织，感情很复杂。在迈向大国的过程中，中国应该如何自我疗伤？
唐启华：中国必须告别革命外交，过去近百年，外交往往成为内部斗争和政治宣传的工具，告诉大家列强欺负中国，我们要报仇雪耻，这种灌输不容易形成平衡公允的世界观和民族性格。政治家对群众情绪的操控，虽然可以获得一时之利，但长远看会损害国家利益。如果我们认定自己是受害者，沉浸于八国联军、南京大屠杀等事件的悲情中，琢磨着有一天要一雪前耻，就只会让世界感到害怕。民族主义会激发爱国心，但狭隘民族主义会成为中国前进的绊脚石。中国要崛起，必须告别革命外交，在多元化的历史视角中，摆脱过往政治神话的束缚，以平衡自信的大国心态走向世界。
中国要崛起，必须告别革命外交
——专访台湾政治大学历史系教授唐启华
文|本刊记者|赵灵敏发自台北，《南风窗》，2011.8.3
在国人的印象里，清末和民国时期的中国外交丧权辱国、一塌糊涂，简直就是一部“国耻史”、“卖国史”，左右离不开“颟顸”、“误国”、“无能”、“卖国贼”、“汉奸”、“妥协”、“投降”等负面形容词。这种悲情的近代史理解，是近代中国狭隘民族主义的源头，到今天仍然深刻影响着国人看待世界的角度和方式。
近日，一封署名为“项城袁氏家族联谊会”的公开信引发了人们的广泛关注，信中认为袁世凯从未签署所谓的“二十一条”，而只是签署了《中日关于山东问题条约》和《中日关于南满即东蒙古问题条约》，这两个条约加起来也只有11条，而且没有出卖主权的条款。前几年热播的电视剧《走向共和》，也为我们塑造了一系列与以往截然不同的晚清民国历史人物形象。
那么，在我们惯常的非黑即白的革命爱国叙事结构之外，那一时期的外交到底有着怎样的历史风貌？记者就此采访了专治近代中国外交史的台湾政治大学历史系教授唐启华。
独尊“革命”的近代史
《南风窗》：对辛亥革命前后的历史人物，如孙中山和袁世凯，人们已经形成了刻板的思维定势：前者好，是革命先行者；后者坏，是坏蛋卖国贼。但唐德刚先生在《袁氏当国》里，对孙中山后期专制的一面进行了批评，也肯定了袁世凯“治世之能臣”的一面。那从外交史的角度看，您对他们两人有着怎样的评价？
唐启华：我们以往的教科书和外交史确实是批评袁世凯推崇孙中山的。袁世凯在外交方面的恶名，主要来自关于“二十一条”的交涉，以往的史学家认为他为了称帝，投日卖国，不惜接受“二十一条”。但我查阅过英国和日本的外交档案后，发现情形恰恰相反。事实上，袁世凯幷未接受“二十一条”，在双方交涉之初，袁就疾言厉色地告诉日使，可让者自可谈判，不可让者如第五条等，则绝不能让。在其后历时4个月的谈判中，外长陆征祥，次长曹汝霖和驻日公使陆宗舆等，受尽折磨和屈辱，即使是有妥协情形的曹汝霖，也是“激愤之情溢于言表”。
最后，经过4个月的抗争，加上舆论的压力，日本放弃了“二十一条”中最凶残的要求，和中国签订了《中日新约》9条和关于山东问题的条约。我们如果把日本人最初的要求和签订的新约做比较，就会发现其中的天壤之别。在日方的档案中，这是一场失败的交涉，日本外务大臣因此辞职。当然，新约也是一部丧权辱国的条约，但日本要灭亡中国的目的终究没有达到。
相反，孙中山在护法运动失败后，长期寻求军阀对他的支持以失败告终后，转而向日本提出割让满洲，海南岛，组织国民革命军由日本军官带领，出让全国的警察管辖权和税务权，以换得日本派兵出战，后来甚至向日本表示平津和内蒙也不要了。这些权益是袁世凯也不敢让的。
《南风窗》：既然如此，为何我们的教科书、公众甚至历史学家都认为孙好袁坏呢？
唐启华：今天我们对历史包括近代史的理解，是基于片面扭曲的历史诠释之上。因为国共两党都是革命党，对历史的诠释往往出于宣传的需要，不一定是历史事实，甚至将党派利益放在国家利益和是非之上，认为为了目的可以不择手段。台湾虽然经过了政党轮替，国民党被塑造为独裁专制的代名词，但受影响的主要是对台湾史的诠释，中国近代史的部分幷未受到挑战。
由于国共两党皆以反帝、反军阀、废除不平等条约为民初历史诠释的基调。两岸学界对当时外交史的研究，大多集中于广州、武汉到南京国民政府的“革命外交”。北京政府被视为革命的对立面，外交上纵使有零星的优异表现，也因政治不正确而长期遭到忽视与扭曲。独尊“革命”，在非常时期或有其必要，但数十年来成为常态，窄化了我们近代史理解的视野，导致中国外交史研究，不注重外交常规之交涉谈判，只注重谴责帝国主义侵略，宣扬“革命外交”之必要性。
《南风窗》：那么，您怎么评价北洋时期的内政和外交？
唐启华：北洋时代从袁世凯小站练兵开始，到国民革命军北伐成功，东北易帜结束。国共两党都极力攻击北洋时期，把北洋时期说成一个中国历史上最黑暗的时代，与洋务运动失败、北洋水师覆灭、北洋军阀卖国等刻板印象相连接。北洋时代是否是军阀混战，民不聊生？我个人觉得需要仔细研究之后才能下定论。
事实上，北洋是一个被丑化的时代和力量。中国要往上走，是可以从北洋时代得到启发的。那时虽然军阀混战，但彼此之间还是有道义上的约束，不会赶尽杀绝；北洋内部派系林立，轮流执政，这对今天的政改是有借鉴意义的；北洋时代是一个多元化的时代，社会氛围自由宽松，没有官方的意识形态，观念上百花齐放，有学术自由，是知识分子和教育的黄金时代。
在外交上，通过对清末旧的外交机构的改造，破旧立新，完成了外交机构的现代化，使得一批专业化、技术化的新式外交官登上了外交舞台。他们通过各种形式到国外接受专门教育，是中国最早开眼看世界的群体。由于军阀不管外交，外交官威望崇高，外交不受党派利益的牵制，能够从现实的国家利益出发，比起其他部门更能独立决策且具延续性。但由于长期的革命外交灌输，在列强档案中形容为狡猾、优秀、难缠的北洋外交官，在我们的教科书中成了“买办”、“走狗”、“西崽”，交涉成果被一笔勾销。
《南风窗》：但无论如何，这一时期的外交还是丧失了很多国家权益呀？比如巴黎和会，中国是战胜国，但在山东问题的交涉上依然失败了。
唐启华：外交的基础是国家实力。清末民初正值帝国主义外交高潮，弱肉强食被视为天经地义，中国赖列强均势，免于瓜分已属万幸；加以列强在华条约利益一致，中外实力差距太大。在这种情况下的外交，要全面挽救颓势是不可能的，只能寻求局部的突破，力求不丧失新的权利，或将已失权利加以严格限制。哈佛大学教授柯伟林认为，民国时期的中国外交相当不简单，在内乱不断的情况下，居然将清朝遗留下来的版图，大致维持完整，是不可忽视的成就。
巴黎和会上山东问题交涉的失败，是因为当时日美之争，美国以牺牲中国为代价，对日本做的让步。中国最终没有在对德合约上签字，第一次对列强说“不”，而且日本最终也没有获得山东的统治权。除此之外，中国在巴黎和会上还是有很多外交成就的。中国签署了对奥合约、对匈牙利合约、对保加利亚和约，第一次以战胜国姿态出现于国际社会。顾维钧代表中国还签署了国际航空专约，使中国与其他国家具有同样的领空权。加入国联是中国加入形成中的国际社会的开端，中国当时缴纳会费所占的比例是今天中国联合国会费的3倍。入选国联行政院意味着中国具有处理世界问题的资格，王宠惠还成为入选国际法院法官的第一个中国人。
当然，北洋时期的外交有功有过，但我们不能只看到以前的坏，看不到它的好，更不能只强调今天的成就和过去的失误，不能自己让步就是顾全大局，别人让步就是丧权辱国，不能有双重标准。
被“废约”遮蔽的“修约”
《南风窗》：在近代中国人的脑海里，没有比“不平等条约”更能激起强烈的民族情绪。您怎样看待“废除不平等条约”这一口号？
唐启华：近代中国与世界接触以来，饱尝屈辱与挫折，“不平等条约”可称得上最明显的伤痕。1920年代以来“反帝废约”、“废除不平等条约”等爱国宣传，开始深入人心，自此是谁“废除不平等条约”终结百年国耻，与政权的合法性密切相关。
国民政府受惠于五卅之后反帝反军阀激情，于大革命之后取得政权，强调其始终致力于废约，幷在抗战期间，签订《中美新约》、《中英新约》等，废除“不平等条约”，但贬抑轴心国交还特权给汪精卫政权之重要性。中共则贬抑国民政府废除“不平等条约”的成果，指出尚有许多未收回的权利，强调是中共最先提出废约主张，幷进行了坚持不懈的奋斗；1949年建国之后，彻底扫除帝国主义势力及影响，解除了套在中华民族身上“不平等条约”的锁链。最后，香港，澳门回归，才算真正终结百年国耻。
事实上，“不平等条约”负载了百年民族悲情，政治意涵浓厚，其概念的提出和使用，就意味着对条约的合法性及效力的怀疑与挑战，进而主张“废除”之，但太过强调“不平等条约”在道德上的瑕疵，及“废约”在道德上的优越性，会有自相矛盾之处。清政府也曾在外国享有条约特权，如在朝鲜有专管租界3处，另外在甑南浦等公共租界中也有中国租界，幷享有领事裁判权。《马关条约》之前，中国和日本互享领事裁判权等。
应该说，“废约”的主要作用是对内的，与现实政治密切相关。丰富精彩的“修约”历程与成果，被“废约”观念所遮蔽，致使几代外交官的努力被遗忘，中国外交的诸多特色和发展历程被忽视扭曲，无法总结成果，平心理解过去。
《南风窗》：那么，“修约”和“废约”之间到底是什么关系？
唐启华：摆脱条约束缚是举国一致的目标，“修约”和“废约”都是达成目标的手段。“修约”循法律途径，依据法理要求改订平等条约；若对手国坚持不肯修订旧约，则可诉诸革命及民意，走政治路线“废约”，摆脱旧约束缚，目的仍在重订平等新约。“修约”和“废约”两者应是相辅相成的，可以视环境、时事及本身环境，做不同的选择或交互运用。“条约必须信守”是历史悠久的西方法律传统，条约可以修改，但修改条约不应否定“条约必须信守”的原则。
但1925年五卅惨案之后，国共两党力主“反帝废约”，强调废除与修改为截然不同的两件事，将“修约”定义为与帝国主义妥协投降的卖国行为，认为只有“废约”才能解除束缚，摆脱半殖民地位。自此，“修约”与“废约”成了泾渭分明不能调和的两条路线，是否主张无条件“废除不平等条约”作为爱国主义和反革命、好与坏的分水岭。“修约”在国人心目中已根深蒂固成为负面名词。
《南风窗》：在“修约”方面，北洋政府做了哪些努力？成效如何？
唐启华：当时北京政府虽然衰微，但仍是被各国承认的中央政府，在国际上代表中国。1919年以后，其“修约”朝有约国、战败国及无约国三个方向发展：对有约国，在巴黎和会上要求舍弃势力范围等7项特权，虽大会未予受理，但已系中国首次明确表达对条约束缚的不满；对战败国，要求废除旧约重订平等新约，得到允准。1921年5月签订的《中德协约》是第一个明文规范无最惠国待遇、领事裁判权、协议关税各款的平等新约，也得到了独一无二的战争赔款；对无约国，1919年春北京政府颁令，与无约国谈判时坚持平等互惠不再给予特权，即使谈判不成，也不愿迁就。12月，北京政府与玻利维亚订约建交，开创完全平等互惠条约之先例。
1926年初，北京政府决定改采“到期修约”方针，陆续与条约期满国家个别谈判改约。4月，北京外交部通知比利时要求《中比条约》期满修约，由于比国不愿接受中方条件，北京政府乃毅然于11月6日宣布废止《中比条约》，是为中国外交史破天荒之壮举。不久，比利时宣布归还天津租界，其后双方达成新约。1927年11月，北京政府再宣布废止《中西条约》，由“到期修约”发展到“到期修改、期满作废”。
1928年，中丹、中葡、中意等条约到期，北京外交部分别交涉修约，但未有成果。北洋政府在倾覆之前，与波兰、希腊签订平等条约，是为北洋修约的最后成绩。
告别“革命外交”
《南风窗》：您的这一系列观点，恐怕会被认为是在做历史翻案文章。
唐启华：我的研究不在于翻案，也不在于否定他人的历史记忆，检讨他人珍视的传统，而是提供一种多元看待历史的方式。过去80多年来，受革命宣传的影响，“废除不平等条约”与“反帝废约”激发了人民的爱国情操，在收回国权上取得了丰硕成果。“中国人民站起来”的民族自信心是弥足珍贵的。多年宣传的影响，已是铁一般的事实，每个人的历史记忆都应该尊重。然而，过去的历史记忆，过度一元、单调、贫瘠，“反帝废约”激情在完成阶段性任务后，可能会妨碍中国和平崛起的脚步，限制了迈向大国的历史想象空间。在此问题上，我们应该形成全面均衡的历史理解，进而能与各国平心对话，关照彼此的世界观，大步迈向全球化时代。
《南风窗》：您主要是在担心狭隘民族主义的影响吗？在处理对外特别是对西方的关系上，中国人往往爱、恨、怕交织，感情很复杂。在迈向大国的过程中，中国应该如何自我疗伤？
唐启华：中国必须告别革命外交，过去近百年，外交往往成为内部斗争和政治宣传的工具，告诉大家列强欺负中国，我们要报仇雪耻，这种灌输不容易形成平衡公允的世界观和民族性格。政治家对群众情绪的操控，虽然可以获得一时之利，但长远看会损害国家利益。如果我们认定自己是受害者，沉浸于八国联军、南京大屠杀等事件的悲情中，琢磨着有一天要一雪前耻，就只会让世界感到害怕。民族主义会激发爱国心，但狭隘民族主义会成为中国前进的绊脚石。中国要崛起，必须告别革命外交，在多元化的历史视角中，摆脱过往政治神话的束缚，以平衡自信的大国心态走向世界。
2011年7月24日星期日
庐山归来
前天晚上回到杭州。
庐山的自然风景不如黄山，更多的是人文的东西。
有了人文，有了历史，很多风景就超过了它的形式。
去了美庐、芦林一号、三叠泉、黄龙寺、植物园、白居易的花径、如琴湖、含鄱口，拜谒了陈寅恪先生的墓。
可惜没有见识到“一山藏六教”，没有看到牯岭的那些小教堂，松门别墅也没有看到。
从庐山下山之后，也就是周四。在下午去拜谒了白鹿洞书院，书院稍显破败，可能维护的费用不足吧。
周五早上，其他人都去了南昌，我租了一辆出租车，去了净土宗祖庭的东林寺。
虎溪三笑里面的虎溪居然就是一个小水渠，让我很惊讶。
罗汉堂非常精彩，还有聪明泉、果一堂、文佛塔。拍了很多莲池的照片，荷花怒放。
事前的功课没有做好，所以远公塔院等地方没有去，据说还有慧远手植的佛手樟。
圣贤之地总是寂寞的，看到白鹿洞书院还有东林寺，觉得很奇怪，现在都觉得偏僻的地方，那些先人怎么能找到，他们是怎么选中这些地方的？我很好奇。
寺内在施工，很多地方都是工地。
还有，不能踩踏门槛。
令我惊讶的是，寺内居然有火车售票处，于是买了11：14去从庐山站（也就是九江县火车站）去南昌的动车。
离开东林寺的时候，远远地拍了一张西林寺的照片，也就是《题西林壁》里的那个西林。
时间很紧张，包括在山上，也有很多地方没有太多时间驻留和细细观看。
庐山集自然风景、人文、地质研究价值为一体。
遗憾的是，没有去香炉峰，也就是李白的日照瀑布挂前川；也没有去康王谷的谷帘泉。
在东林寺买了一串佛珠，以资纪念。
还会再来吗？
庐山的自然风景不如黄山，更多的是人文的东西。
有了人文，有了历史，很多风景就超过了它的形式。
去了美庐、芦林一号、三叠泉、黄龙寺、植物园、白居易的花径、如琴湖、含鄱口，拜谒了陈寅恪先生的墓。
可惜没有见识到“一山藏六教”，没有看到牯岭的那些小教堂，松门别墅也没有看到。
从庐山下山之后，也就是周四。在下午去拜谒了白鹿洞书院，书院稍显破败，可能维护的费用不足吧。
周五早上，其他人都去了南昌，我租了一辆出租车，去了净土宗祖庭的东林寺。
虎溪三笑里面的虎溪居然就是一个小水渠，让我很惊讶。
罗汉堂非常精彩，还有聪明泉、果一堂、文佛塔。拍了很多莲池的照片，荷花怒放。
事前的功课没有做好，所以远公塔院等地方没有去，据说还有慧远手植的佛手樟。
圣贤之地总是寂寞的，看到白鹿洞书院还有东林寺，觉得很奇怪，现在都觉得偏僻的地方，那些先人怎么能找到，他们是怎么选中这些地方的？我很好奇。
寺内在施工，很多地方都是工地。
还有，不能踩踏门槛。
令我惊讶的是，寺内居然有火车售票处，于是买了11：14去从庐山站（也就是九江县火车站）去南昌的动车。
离开东林寺的时候，远远地拍了一张西林寺的照片，也就是《题西林壁》里的那个西林。
时间很紧张，包括在山上，也有很多地方没有太多时间驻留和细细观看。
庐山集自然风景、人文、地质研究价值为一体。
遗憾的是，没有去香炉峰，也就是李白的日照瀑布挂前川；也没有去康王谷的谷帘泉。
在东林寺买了一串佛珠，以资纪念。
还会再来吗？
2011年7月18日星期一
2011年7月3日星期日
2011年6月3日星期五
横江词
横江词
作者: 李白
人道横江好，侬道横江恶。
一风三日吹倒山，白浪高于瓦官阁。
海潮南去过寻阳，牛渚由来险马当。
横江欲渡风波恶，一水牵愁万里长。
横江西望阻西秦，汉水东连扬子津。
白浪如山那可渡，狂风愁杀峭帆人。
海神来过恶风回，浪打天门石壁开。
浙江八月何如此？涛似连山喷雪来。
横江馆前津吏迎，向余东指海云生。
郎今欲渡缘何事，如此风波不可行。
月晕天风雾不开，海鲸东蹙百川回。
惊波一起三山动，公无渡河归去来。
【横江】横江浦，安徽和县东南，古长江渡口
【峭帆】很高的船帆
【浙江】此指钱塘江
【海云生】海上升起浓云
【蹙】驱迫
【回】倒流
【公无渡河】古乐府有《公无渡河》曲，相传朝鲜有个“白首狂夫”渡河淹死，其妻追赶不及，也投河自尽。自尽前唱哀歌道“公无渡河，公竟渡河！渡河而死，当奈公何！”
作者: 李白
人道横江好，侬道横江恶。
一风三日吹倒山，白浪高于瓦官阁。
海潮南去过寻阳，牛渚由来险马当。
横江欲渡风波恶，一水牵愁万里长。
横江西望阻西秦，汉水东连扬子津。
白浪如山那可渡，狂风愁杀峭帆人。
海神来过恶风回，浪打天门石壁开。
浙江八月何如此？涛似连山喷雪来。
横江馆前津吏迎，向余东指海云生。
郎今欲渡缘何事，如此风波不可行。
月晕天风雾不开，海鲸东蹙百川回。
惊波一起三山动，公无渡河归去来。
【横江】横江浦，安徽和县东南，古长江渡口
【峭帆】很高的船帆
【浙江】此指钱塘江
【海云生】海上升起浓云
【蹙】驱迫
【回】倒流
【公无渡河】古乐府有《公无渡河》曲，相传朝鲜有个“白首狂夫”渡河淹死，其妻追赶不及，也投河自尽。自尽前唱哀歌道“公无渡河，公竟渡河！渡河而死，当奈公何！”
2011年5月28日星期六
黄达人文集引
对于基础学科,大学应该有一种平和的心态,要有“养士”的气度。对于那些以学术为生存方式的学者,大学应该给他们良好宽松的学术环境和生活空间,而不应该以量化管理来制约其创造力
□吴承学
黄达人校长文集编成后,编者命我作序。我虽感荣幸,又颇惶恐:因为我既非领导,又是后辈,何敢言序?在中国古代,“序”又可称为“引”。我就权作一引吧。引者,非引导也,引玉之谓也。我愿以一位在中山大学学习工作数十年的文科教师身份谈谈个人先睹之快。
十多年前,黄达人校长受命从西子湖走进康乐园,执掌中山大学。转瞬之间,已12年了。我们共同亲历的这一切,都已经成为历史的一页了。
在历史长河中,12年只是弹指之间,而对于百年中大来说,却不可谓短暂。这本书让我们这些一路相伴走来的中大人油然而生一种亲切感,蓦然回首,十多年走过的路又仿佛重现眼前。这种感觉就像李白诗中所描写的:“却顾所来径,苍苍横翠微。”现在,我们可以从容地站在今天所处的高度,回瞰这十多年盘旋而上的“所来之径”。这不是一条现成坦途,而是中大人自己开辟出来的道路,上面深深地留下了中大人的足迹。按照庄子的说法,事物有“迹”,有“所以迹”。“迹”,就是一般人所能见到的事物与现象。“所以迹”,就是事物、现象之形成发展的内在成因或者背后的精神与信念。这本书的珍贵之处,不仅在于记录了中山大学发展的“所来之径”,更有“所来之径”形成的背景、原因、动机与思路,为我们解读中山大学的发展与前景提供了可贵的文献。
这本书的核心是中山大学的制度设计与文化建构。大学的文化与制度是虚实相成的。制度是形而下的“器”,文化则是形而上的“道”。制度是“迹”,文化则是“所以迹”。有好的制度才能确保正常组织与运作的效率,才有规范可依。而在大学制度之上,还有大学文化。黄校长认为:文化是大学核心竞争力的最重要组成部分,对大学发展的影响是潜移默化、大道自然的,然而更为深远。所谓“大学文化”是大学的一种精神状态与特有气质,它是在一所大学长期的办学过程中积淀而成,越是有着悠久历史传统的大学,其文化的影响力就越巨大,那些无形的、约定俗成的传统总是会随时随地展现在大学的运作过程之中。这种大学文化实际上就是一种核心价值观。
黄校长不断强调“大学是一个学术共同体”、“教授就是大学”和“善待学生”三位一体的核心价值理念。这一治校理念,既是在中山大学发展过程中不断摸索出来的,也是借鉴国外数百年现代大学的经验而形成的,因此兼有现实性与超越性的品质。一方面,它直击当下中国大学行政化与社会化的要害,具有匡正时弊的现实意义,目的就是要使中山大学回归大学的本质、品格与使命。另一方面,它并不是只适应一时的权宜之计,也不是只适合一地一校的教育,它是对数百年逐步发展起来的现代大学基本理念的反思、提炼和总结,具有普适性与超越性,是一种可以超越国家与地域、制度与意识形态的价值观。在现行体制与条件下,这样的治校理念,最大程度地保障了对大学精神的追求与发挥。
如果说,黄校长的大学基本理念主要是受到西方现代大学的启发,他的思想方法则显然受到本土传统思想的影响。黄校长常说:政策的制定过程,是一个不断地寻找平衡点的过程,而在寻找平衡点这个方面,儒家的终极理想“中庸之道”可以给我们以有益的启示。黄校长甚至把中庸之道的理念投射到对于中山大学文化精神的把握之中。他有一段妙论:
人们经常将中山大学简称为“中大”,细想其中似颇有深意,按我的理解,“中”的含义有平衡、均衡、中庸等意思,在这里主要体现为“度”。“大”的含义有包容、博大、深邃、宽厚、多样化、差异性等意思,在这里主要体现为多样性与差异性。
这虽属“望文生义”,却是独具会心的睿智。我们看到近年中山大学的许多制度与理念都体现出这种允执其中、不偏不倚的中庸之道:立规矩与留空间、学科规划与学术自由、科研创新团队与孤独的思想者、国际水平与国家需求、象牙塔与发动机、自律与他律、道义与利益、学术自由与社会责任、师道尊严与善待学生……这种中国式的智慧是一种哲学,也是一种艺术。
黄校长是数学教授,又长期在以理工科见长的浙江大学工作,对文科有个逐渐理解的过程。他曾说:“初来中大时,我就被中大文科教授们的风采所吸引,他们的博学让我敬畏,觉得就算不能与文科的教授们结成知音,也一定要做他们的朋友。但是过了一段时间,我发现,在文科的领域,也许我只能做他们的学生。”他又说,他从中大文科教授那里得到许多教益,所以更为大气,更有境界。我不认为这是故作自谦之语。一位领导有无“文化”,与其专业无关,主要在他对文化的态度与胸襟。黄校长来到人文学科传统积淀深厚和具有独立、自由和宽容风气的中山大学,以敬畏之心与谦逊态度,走进文化,领略文化,引领文化,成为有激情与想象、有人文情怀的管理者,有人格魅力、有思想深度的教育家。从这个角度来讲,他受中大文化与岭南文化沾溉甚多。
一位从事理科研究的领导而能热心地支持与呵护人文学科,已属不易,而这种支持与呵护是出于对人文学科的真切理解的,就更为难得。黄校长认为,人文科学是“无用”之“大用”。虽然它不能像科学技术那样直接产生经济效应,也不能为大学排名增加多少硬指标,但是它代表着大学的品味与境界,所以是一种软实力,一种极为重要的无形资产。它的作用可能要很久才能看出来,却影响久远。鉴于此,中山大学非常强调正视学科的差异性,提倡学术的自由精神。黄校长说:对于基础学科,大学应该要有一种平和的心态,要有“养士”的气度。对于那些以学术为生存方式的学者,大学应该给他们良好宽松的学术环境和生活空间,而不应该以量化管理来制约其创造力。文科的评价有比较强的主观性,难以标准化。所以中大对于文科,相当重视“清议”。“清议”是一种纯学术的评价,是一种“共同体认同”,是一种可以经得起历史检验的“公论”,因为在真正的学者心里自有“一杆秤”。“清议”只能出于“清流”,“清流”就是一批有学术水平与学术良知的精英学者。应该让这些学者拥有更大的话语权。
我与黄校长并无深交。回想起来,黄校长掌校十多年,我到校长办公室谈话只有两次。第一次是2007年6月份,黄校长约我到中山楼谈话。《中山大学学报》社科版原主编退休,学校领导希望我能接替此任。我说,我不是中共党员,恐怕不太合适。黄校长笑着说:我们知道,不过,我们信任你。主编是一个学术岗位,只要坚持严格审稿,按照学术发展的内在规律,坚持用高水平的论文就可以了。他又强调,不要有压力,学校不会以什么转载率、引用率指标来考核学报。临别,他补充说,有什么需要可直接找他。不久,我就请见黄校长。因为学报改版和扩版,需要在原有预算外增加经费投入。我向校长递交了扩版报告,黄校长批示道:“我认为,对学报的支持也是对文科支持的重要手段。”这两次谈话总共不到半小时,干净利索,就解决了问题。在主持学报工作中,我深深感受到学校所给予的充分信任与尊重。在一次长江学者座谈会上,我发言说:对于有责任感、有担当的学者来说,信任是一种压力,最大的压力就是没有给他们具体的压力。信任不是放任,而是为之提供一个更好的空间和宽松的环境。当时,黄校长在座,我见他频频点头,意颇然之。
黄校长刚到中大时,偶尔还与年轻教师打打篮球。他球艺精良,球风硬悍,对于胜负还颇为在意,那时他是多么的魁梧健壮啊。十年过去,虽乡音无改,笑容依旧,但头发逐渐斑白萧疏。2010年6月,我和彭玉平教授主编的《中山大学文化校史》一书杀青,请黄校长赐序,他欣然俯允。在序中,他深情写道:
我与中大在一起,已经12年了,对四个校区的一草一木,已产生了深深的眷恋,与中大在一起,我充满了激情。我知道,这种激情来源于中大的历史、现在和未来,来源于中山大学的每个人,更来源于中大的文化血脉,我朝夕浸淫其间,早已成为其中不可分离的一分子。
可谓情动于中,一唱三叹。个中况味,不难读解。半年后,黄校长卸任。2010年12月23日下午,怀士堂座无虚席。黄校长作卸任演讲时,一贯从容淡定的他竟不能自持,数度哽咽。他以校长身份说的最后一句话是:“我是中大人,中山大学是我永远的精神家园。”闻者无不动容。
卸任数天后,十多位文科教授请老校长到珠江边饮酒品茗。席间,互道多年来工作中之韵事和糗事,笑语不断,举座皆欢。临别,众教授赠老校长一纸,上以秦简字体书写一颂。颂曰:
亦长亦友,达己达人。
康园一纪,百卉争春。
前人有谓:“秀才人情纸一张。”诚哉斯言。然纸薄,人情不薄。
愿康园春天永驻。
2011年3月于康乐园郁文堂
http://nf.nfdaily.cn/epaper/nfzm/content/20110526/ArticelD24002FM.htm
http://www.infzm.com/content/59613
□吴承学
黄达人校长文集编成后,编者命我作序。我虽感荣幸,又颇惶恐:因为我既非领导,又是后辈,何敢言序?在中国古代,“序”又可称为“引”。我就权作一引吧。引者,非引导也,引玉之谓也。我愿以一位在中山大学学习工作数十年的文科教师身份谈谈个人先睹之快。
十多年前,黄达人校长受命从西子湖走进康乐园,执掌中山大学。转瞬之间,已12年了。我们共同亲历的这一切,都已经成为历史的一页了。
在历史长河中,12年只是弹指之间,而对于百年中大来说,却不可谓短暂。这本书让我们这些一路相伴走来的中大人油然而生一种亲切感,蓦然回首,十多年走过的路又仿佛重现眼前。这种感觉就像李白诗中所描写的:“却顾所来径,苍苍横翠微。”现在,我们可以从容地站在今天所处的高度,回瞰这十多年盘旋而上的“所来之径”。这不是一条现成坦途,而是中大人自己开辟出来的道路,上面深深地留下了中大人的足迹。按照庄子的说法,事物有“迹”,有“所以迹”。“迹”,就是一般人所能见到的事物与现象。“所以迹”,就是事物、现象之形成发展的内在成因或者背后的精神与信念。这本书的珍贵之处,不仅在于记录了中山大学发展的“所来之径”,更有“所来之径”形成的背景、原因、动机与思路,为我们解读中山大学的发展与前景提供了可贵的文献。
这本书的核心是中山大学的制度设计与文化建构。大学的文化与制度是虚实相成的。制度是形而下的“器”,文化则是形而上的“道”。制度是“迹”,文化则是“所以迹”。有好的制度才能确保正常组织与运作的效率,才有规范可依。而在大学制度之上,还有大学文化。黄校长认为:文化是大学核心竞争力的最重要组成部分,对大学发展的影响是潜移默化、大道自然的,然而更为深远。所谓“大学文化”是大学的一种精神状态与特有气质,它是在一所大学长期的办学过程中积淀而成,越是有着悠久历史传统的大学,其文化的影响力就越巨大,那些无形的、约定俗成的传统总是会随时随地展现在大学的运作过程之中。这种大学文化实际上就是一种核心价值观。
黄校长不断强调“大学是一个学术共同体”、“教授就是大学”和“善待学生”三位一体的核心价值理念。这一治校理念,既是在中山大学发展过程中不断摸索出来的,也是借鉴国外数百年现代大学的经验而形成的,因此兼有现实性与超越性的品质。一方面,它直击当下中国大学行政化与社会化的要害,具有匡正时弊的现实意义,目的就是要使中山大学回归大学的本质、品格与使命。另一方面,它并不是只适应一时的权宜之计,也不是只适合一地一校的教育,它是对数百年逐步发展起来的现代大学基本理念的反思、提炼和总结,具有普适性与超越性,是一种可以超越国家与地域、制度与意识形态的价值观。在现行体制与条件下,这样的治校理念,最大程度地保障了对大学精神的追求与发挥。
如果说,黄校长的大学基本理念主要是受到西方现代大学的启发,他的思想方法则显然受到本土传统思想的影响。黄校长常说:政策的制定过程,是一个不断地寻找平衡点的过程,而在寻找平衡点这个方面,儒家的终极理想“中庸之道”可以给我们以有益的启示。黄校长甚至把中庸之道的理念投射到对于中山大学文化精神的把握之中。他有一段妙论:
人们经常将中山大学简称为“中大”,细想其中似颇有深意,按我的理解,“中”的含义有平衡、均衡、中庸等意思,在这里主要体现为“度”。“大”的含义有包容、博大、深邃、宽厚、多样化、差异性等意思,在这里主要体现为多样性与差异性。
这虽属“望文生义”,却是独具会心的睿智。我们看到近年中山大学的许多制度与理念都体现出这种允执其中、不偏不倚的中庸之道:立规矩与留空间、学科规划与学术自由、科研创新团队与孤独的思想者、国际水平与国家需求、象牙塔与发动机、自律与他律、道义与利益、学术自由与社会责任、师道尊严与善待学生……这种中国式的智慧是一种哲学,也是一种艺术。
黄校长是数学教授,又长期在以理工科见长的浙江大学工作,对文科有个逐渐理解的过程。他曾说:“初来中大时,我就被中大文科教授们的风采所吸引,他们的博学让我敬畏,觉得就算不能与文科的教授们结成知音,也一定要做他们的朋友。但是过了一段时间,我发现,在文科的领域,也许我只能做他们的学生。”他又说,他从中大文科教授那里得到许多教益,所以更为大气,更有境界。我不认为这是故作自谦之语。一位领导有无“文化”,与其专业无关,主要在他对文化的态度与胸襟。黄校长来到人文学科传统积淀深厚和具有独立、自由和宽容风气的中山大学,以敬畏之心与谦逊态度,走进文化,领略文化,引领文化,成为有激情与想象、有人文情怀的管理者,有人格魅力、有思想深度的教育家。从这个角度来讲,他受中大文化与岭南文化沾溉甚多。
一位从事理科研究的领导而能热心地支持与呵护人文学科,已属不易,而这种支持与呵护是出于对人文学科的真切理解的,就更为难得。黄校长认为,人文科学是“无用”之“大用”。虽然它不能像科学技术那样直接产生经济效应,也不能为大学排名增加多少硬指标,但是它代表着大学的品味与境界,所以是一种软实力,一种极为重要的无形资产。它的作用可能要很久才能看出来,却影响久远。鉴于此,中山大学非常强调正视学科的差异性,提倡学术的自由精神。黄校长说:对于基础学科,大学应该要有一种平和的心态,要有“养士”的气度。对于那些以学术为生存方式的学者,大学应该给他们良好宽松的学术环境和生活空间,而不应该以量化管理来制约其创造力。文科的评价有比较强的主观性,难以标准化。所以中大对于文科,相当重视“清议”。“清议”是一种纯学术的评价,是一种“共同体认同”,是一种可以经得起历史检验的“公论”,因为在真正的学者心里自有“一杆秤”。“清议”只能出于“清流”,“清流”就是一批有学术水平与学术良知的精英学者。应该让这些学者拥有更大的话语权。
我与黄校长并无深交。回想起来,黄校长掌校十多年,我到校长办公室谈话只有两次。第一次是2007年6月份,黄校长约我到中山楼谈话。《中山大学学报》社科版原主编退休,学校领导希望我能接替此任。我说,我不是中共党员,恐怕不太合适。黄校长笑着说:我们知道,不过,我们信任你。主编是一个学术岗位,只要坚持严格审稿,按照学术发展的内在规律,坚持用高水平的论文就可以了。他又强调,不要有压力,学校不会以什么转载率、引用率指标来考核学报。临别,他补充说,有什么需要可直接找他。不久,我就请见黄校长。因为学报改版和扩版,需要在原有预算外增加经费投入。我向校长递交了扩版报告,黄校长批示道:“我认为,对学报的支持也是对文科支持的重要手段。”这两次谈话总共不到半小时,干净利索,就解决了问题。在主持学报工作中,我深深感受到学校所给予的充分信任与尊重。在一次长江学者座谈会上,我发言说:对于有责任感、有担当的学者来说,信任是一种压力,最大的压力就是没有给他们具体的压力。信任不是放任,而是为之提供一个更好的空间和宽松的环境。当时,黄校长在座,我见他频频点头,意颇然之。
黄校长刚到中大时,偶尔还与年轻教师打打篮球。他球艺精良,球风硬悍,对于胜负还颇为在意,那时他是多么的魁梧健壮啊。十年过去,虽乡音无改,笑容依旧,但头发逐渐斑白萧疏。2010年6月,我和彭玉平教授主编的《中山大学文化校史》一书杀青,请黄校长赐序,他欣然俯允。在序中,他深情写道:
我与中大在一起,已经12年了,对四个校区的一草一木,已产生了深深的眷恋,与中大在一起,我充满了激情。我知道,这种激情来源于中大的历史、现在和未来,来源于中山大学的每个人,更来源于中大的文化血脉,我朝夕浸淫其间,早已成为其中不可分离的一分子。
可谓情动于中,一唱三叹。个中况味,不难读解。半年后,黄校长卸任。2010年12月23日下午,怀士堂座无虚席。黄校长作卸任演讲时,一贯从容淡定的他竟不能自持,数度哽咽。他以校长身份说的最后一句话是:“我是中大人,中山大学是我永远的精神家园。”闻者无不动容。
卸任数天后,十多位文科教授请老校长到珠江边饮酒品茗。席间,互道多年来工作中之韵事和糗事,笑语不断,举座皆欢。临别,众教授赠老校长一纸,上以秦简字体书写一颂。颂曰:
亦长亦友,达己达人。
康园一纪,百卉争春。
前人有谓:“秀才人情纸一张。”诚哉斯言。然纸薄,人情不薄。
愿康园春天永驻。
2011年3月于康乐园郁文堂
http://nf.nfdaily.cn/epaper/nfzm/content/20110526/ArticelD24002FM.htm
http://www.infzm.com/content/59613
2011年5月12日星期四
社论：躺在时间的河流上怀念他们
今天是汶川地震三周年纪念日，读者诸君一定知道我们的哀悼所在。那场大地震令山河破碎，八万多人罹难失踪，连绵不绝的哀伤延续至今。哀伤是为同胞一去不还，五月就此成为悲哀的月份；哀伤也因为念及自身无力，不能抵挡决绝的离逝。又一年祭祀重来，躺在时间的河流上怀念他们，实有必要确认诸多问题：他们是谁？他们遇到了什么？他们在哪里？他们想要我们做什么？
馨香几枝，烟气袅袅，升腾至虚空。他们不是冰冷的数字，他们也曾顶着百家姓活泼泼地存在过。他们用整整一生，走进五月的废墟。他们开心地在世上生活过七年，抑或更长更短的岁月。他们是父母，是子女，是姐妹，是兄弟，是黄皮肤的人。他们是寨子里的居民和过客，是跋涉山川河流的人，看云起云落，他们是一切真情。他们是你遇见或未见的人类，是住在大地上的灵魂。
生是偶然的，死亡是必然。三年前的今天，同个时刻，下午黄昏黑夜如朽木，纷纷落下，壅塞时间的河流。红色是血，灰色是扬尘，白色是眩晕，黑色是死神的衣袂，他们在颜色横流中倒下，像是不幸的庄稼，被锐利的刀锋杀害。他们失去了所有，他们的老年中年青年或童年时代结束得太早太快。他们成了各种各样碎片，使用尖锐的边缘，把日子割出眼泪，将故乡抛弃。
他们从四方而来，往八方而去。我们悔恨，他们本该有更好的死亡方式，譬如从容悼念，并且允许泪飞成雨。匆匆复匆匆，他们永远离开伤感的村庄和城市，他们现在石头长有新绿的山坡上，他们仍在学校，在路上，在地下，在无名之处。他们和他们在一起，就像麦子与麦子长在一起。在夏天，在他们最后的黄昏去了我们看不见的地方，他们是生者唯一的痛楚，唯一的安慰。
我们在心里为他们降过半旗，我们在哀悼日为他们招魂请安，我们搜集过他们一世为人的证据，我们一起念出过他们的名字。我们答应过要念念不忘，要生生不息。我们做了很多，又做得太少。迷途不返的人，你们在哪里？我们点燃的光能否照亮你们的路？我们无法做得更多，只好摆上铁做的十二生肖，敬上瓷做的瓜子，象征且祭奠你们凝固了的生命。你们还想要我们做什么？
我们知道，死亡已经发生，而遗忘等候一旁，觊觎他们的再一次死亡。如果不怀念，遗忘就会越来越强大。今天的祭祀就是为了拒绝遗忘，拒绝再次失去他们。以后的纪念，目的无他，也是一遍遍证明给他们看：我们从未远离，我们一直在一起，哪怕是遇到死亡和恐惧。这是一种要被记取的承诺，人千古，人又永远在。这是我们对整座村落、整座城市、良知国民的交代。
起于尘土而又归于尘土，可有一种责任无法推卸。这就是我们对他们的纪念，是校园对学生的纪念，山野对农夫的纪念，黄泥雕群对凝视者的纪念，是家庭对逝者的纪念，是鲜花对坟墓的纪念，是生命对生命的纪念。我们始终不忘，始终向着他们的方向眺望。我们的生活里有他们，我们不只是为自己过活。时间的河流联系彼此，让我们重聚在一起，就像是真的没有失去过。
止歇欢娱，今天此时，让我们躺在时间的河流上，采用他们惯常的姿势，感知他们的所在和请求，察觉我们的对话与诺言。在他们走后，没有一个夜晚能让我们安睡。可三年来，我们谨记并警醒我们的原则。五月是悲哀的，又是清醒的。通过对他们的取态，丈量我们与人类的距离。祝愿大地上的神祇同样能保佑他们，就像他们保佑我们一样。祈祷彼岸乐土。伏食尚飨。
馨香几枝，烟气袅袅，升腾至虚空。他们不是冰冷的数字，他们也曾顶着百家姓活泼泼地存在过。他们用整整一生，走进五月的废墟。他们开心地在世上生活过七年，抑或更长更短的岁月。他们是父母，是子女，是姐妹，是兄弟，是黄皮肤的人。他们是寨子里的居民和过客，是跋涉山川河流的人，看云起云落，他们是一切真情。他们是你遇见或未见的人类，是住在大地上的灵魂。
生是偶然的，死亡是必然。三年前的今天，同个时刻，下午黄昏黑夜如朽木，纷纷落下，壅塞时间的河流。红色是血，灰色是扬尘，白色是眩晕，黑色是死神的衣袂，他们在颜色横流中倒下，像是不幸的庄稼，被锐利的刀锋杀害。他们失去了所有，他们的老年中年青年或童年时代结束得太早太快。他们成了各种各样碎片，使用尖锐的边缘，把日子割出眼泪，将故乡抛弃。
他们从四方而来，往八方而去。我们悔恨，他们本该有更好的死亡方式，譬如从容悼念，并且允许泪飞成雨。匆匆复匆匆，他们永远离开伤感的村庄和城市，他们现在石头长有新绿的山坡上，他们仍在学校，在路上，在地下，在无名之处。他们和他们在一起，就像麦子与麦子长在一起。在夏天，在他们最后的黄昏去了我们看不见的地方，他们是生者唯一的痛楚，唯一的安慰。
我们在心里为他们降过半旗，我们在哀悼日为他们招魂请安，我们搜集过他们一世为人的证据，我们一起念出过他们的名字。我们答应过要念念不忘，要生生不息。我们做了很多，又做得太少。迷途不返的人，你们在哪里？我们点燃的光能否照亮你们的路？我们无法做得更多，只好摆上铁做的十二生肖，敬上瓷做的瓜子，象征且祭奠你们凝固了的生命。你们还想要我们做什么？
我们知道，死亡已经发生，而遗忘等候一旁，觊觎他们的再一次死亡。如果不怀念，遗忘就会越来越强大。今天的祭祀就是为了拒绝遗忘，拒绝再次失去他们。以后的纪念，目的无他，也是一遍遍证明给他们看：我们从未远离，我们一直在一起，哪怕是遇到死亡和恐惧。这是一种要被记取的承诺，人千古，人又永远在。这是我们对整座村落、整座城市、良知国民的交代。
起于尘土而又归于尘土，可有一种责任无法推卸。这就是我们对他们的纪念，是校园对学生的纪念，山野对农夫的纪念，黄泥雕群对凝视者的纪念，是家庭对逝者的纪念，是鲜花对坟墓的纪念，是生命对生命的纪念。我们始终不忘，始终向着他们的方向眺望。我们的生活里有他们，我们不只是为自己过活。时间的河流联系彼此，让我们重聚在一起，就像是真的没有失去过。
止歇欢娱，今天此时，让我们躺在时间的河流上，采用他们惯常的姿势，感知他们的所在和请求，察觉我们的对话与诺言。在他们走后，没有一个夜晚能让我们安睡。可三年来，我们谨记并警醒我们的原则。五月是悲哀的，又是清醒的。通过对他们的取态，丈量我们与人类的距离。祝愿大地上的神祇同样能保佑他们，就像他们保佑我们一样。祈祷彼岸乐土。伏食尚飨。
2011年5月2日星期一
2011年4月13日星期三
日本小城市长的生死抉择
按：今天在WSJ看到一篇感人至深的文章，特录于此。
日本小城市长的生死抉择
2011年 04月 13日 08:52
在那场毁灭性的地震撼动陆前高田市(Rikuzentakata)市政厅之前的几分钟，市长刀羽太(Futoshi Toba)（本文所有人名均为音译）正在享受一个安静的周五下午时光。自从担任这座沿海小城的市长以来，他已经几乎连续不间断地工作了一个月。
3月11日下午2点40分，他给妻子久美(Kumi)打了个电话，提议晚上带两个年幼的儿子去吃烧烤。她答应马上给他写电子邮件回复去不去。
这个谈话很简短，但是，命运有时候不给人细说的机会。
2点46分，距日本东北部沿海约60英里的海底发生的9级强震使陆前高田市猛烈晃动起来，毁坏了电力和通讯设备。此后不久，一堵超过40英尺高的黑色水墙冲过了20英尺高的海堤，涌入市中心。
刀羽太和几十位本地居民急忙冲上市政厅的房顶，这是一座位于市中心的钢骨混凝土结构的四层建筑。海啸引发的洪水漫过了这座建筑物的顶层。
卡车和公共汽车被巨浪抛掷得来回翻滚。在大浪冲击下，房屋与地基分离，漂向大海，屋里的人们惊叫着寻求帮助。
刀羽太说，“当我回首遥望自家方向时，只能看见所有的房屋都被冲毁。木头碎裂的声音响彻天际。”
刀羽太现年46岁，他的两个儿子——12岁的大河(Taiga)和10岁的奏多(Kanato)——当时正在位于山顶的学校里，得以躲过了海啸。但是，他的妻子像往常一样呆在地势更接近海平面的家中。
他说，“我曾想过抛开所有人，不顾一切地跳进车里，冲回家救她。但我真的不能这么做。”他解释说，作为市长所肩负的职责要求他把同事们带到安全地带。他当时一直在想，但愿她能逃脱险境。
当海浪最终开始退却时，陆前高田市已经被毁坏得面目全非，破烂的汽车、碎裂的木头和扭曲的钢筋交织在一起。银行被冲走了，加油站没了，杂货店没了，医院也没了。有超过2300人死亡或失踪，占当地人口的十分之一。
一个月后，刀羽太发现自己需要应付令人左右为难的复杂局面并肩负重任，因为日本要努力从现代历史上最严重的一场自然灾害中恢复过来，日本的领导者们正在讨论如何（甚至是否要）重建这个经济已经在急剧下滑的地区。刀羽太和其他当地政治家做出的决策很有可能就决定了遭受沉重打击的东北部沿海地区的命运：究竟是顽强地活下去并繁荣发展，还是从此一蹶不振？
在以往的天灾（比如1995年摧毁港口城市神户的大地震，还有1923年造成东京地区逾10万人死亡的大地震）过后，日本很快进行了重建。但是，分布在崎岖海岸线上的陆前高田及其他乡镇的情况和这些大城市很不一样。
在灾难发生前，这个地区早就陷入了困境：年轻人去其他地方谋求更好的生活，留下的只是一些老年人和夕阳产业。对这个地区持悲观看法的人认为，投资重建这些江河日下的城镇不符合经济学原理。
在最近的一个周六的下午，刀羽太正在设在该市一所学校的中央厨房内的一个临时指挥所开展工作。他说，“在这种情况下，领导人确实很难当。我们必须一切从头开始。”
刀羽太经常在指挥中心门外的人行道上来回踱步，穿着一身借来的衣服（一件市政工人的制服、米色的风衣和配套的长裤，再加上一双黑色的锐步运动鞋），抽着越来越稀缺的超醇万宝路(Marlboro Ultralights)，他不时拿起挂在脖子上的手机，联络中央和地方官员，努力寻求帮助。
到目前为止他取得的成果包括：为陆前高田市剩余的一些汽车讨来能够多跑几天的汽油，或者为依然无家可归的1万名市民争取生活补给品。从某种角度来看，这些成果只是突显了摆在他面前的任务的艰巨性。
尽管刀羽太全身心地投入到改善这座城市悲惨境况的工作中，但这并不能使他完全忘记自己和久美、大河及奏多一家人的生活发生的剧变。两个孩子目前和刀羽太的叔叔呆在一起。身为市长的父亲尽量抽空去看望儿子，但是在大多数夜晚，他都是睡在临时指挥中心办公桌旁边的地板上。
他也没有回过位于市区的家中，只是在灾难发生后匆匆地望了一眼。在那么远的距离下，他只能依稀辨认出他家房屋的外框依然挺立，但有另一所房子的屋顶搭在他家房屋的屋顶上。
在他家的房屋里面，充满了令人痛苦的印迹：在一楼的衣橱里，挂着一件沾满泥浆的外套和一些领带。地板上散落着照片，其中包括身穿灰色西装的刀羽和久美在结婚当天的照片。在另一张被污泥弄脏的照片中，他的妻子久美身穿袖子是青绿色的白色T恤、黑发齐肩，笑容满面，臂弯里揽着他们的一个孩子。
几周以来，刀羽太一直非常繁忙，都没有时间去停尸所看看久美是否在那儿。其实他也很害怕自己可能看到的一幕。
在上个月月底的时候，这位市长说，“作为一个丈夫，我想去寻找我的妻子，但我必须领导灾后恢复工作。这里的许多人都面临相同的境况。”
陆前高田市有人居住的历史已经有一千年了。穿过一个被群山环绕的平原，就可以看到大海，当地著名的特产有扇贝、海胆和一种品种特别的牡蛎，这种牡蛎在东京的餐馆可以卖到五美元一只。在沙质海滩边是一片松树林，曾被日本政府列为日本最美的100处景点之一。
这座城市历史上也曾发生过海啸。1960年由智利地震引起的海啸导致当地八人丧生，海水淹没了该市靠近海滩的地区。
但是，从来没有哪一次海啸能与3月11日发生的这一次相提并论。
那些冲出门警告居民的市政官员被海浪冲走了。一位市长顾问试图带着一位老奶奶一起转移，但他很快就意识到背着她跑不快，两人都无法逃生。他只好把她放在市政厅二楼的台阶上，抱歉地说，“对不起，奶奶。”然后匆忙跑上顶楼。后来，他再也没有见到这位老奶奶。
海啸冲垮了市区被当作紧急避难所的一个运动中心的后墙，在这里寻求避难的几十个人几乎全部被淹死。
两位消防员爬上消防局屋顶的一个了望塔。最终，在夜幕降临前，直升飞机救起了这两名男子，并将其他一些幸存者从市区的屋顶转移到安全地带。多处煤气罐爆炸，引发了熊熊烈火。
下午7点左右，天开始下雪。一些幸存者收集碎木块，燃起一堆篝火取暖，同时也是向救援人员发出信号。市长和他的助手们围在一台收音机前，收听最新的灾情公报。
余震持续了一整夜，咆哮的海浪一次次地涨起又落下。刀羽太称，他担心整座建筑物会倒塌。大家只能祈祷白天快点来临。
黎明时分，陆前高田市开始统计令人震惊的伤亡人数。它是日本受灾最严重的城市之一。在大约23,000位居民当中，有超过1,100人被证实死亡，有近1,200人失踪，估计已经死亡。在一个体育馆设立的临时停尸所里有成百上千具遗体还没有被确认身份。
警察局长、市议会的两名议员和三位学校的高级官员在海啸中丧生。三分之一的市政工人遇难。
许多幸存者质疑自己是否应该继续留在这里。现年55岁的建筑工人须藤明(Akira Suto)说，他无法忘记，当他和82岁的母亲携手跑出家门试图逃走时，冰冷的海浪墙将他打翻在地，冲开了他和母亲紧握在一起的两只手。
他说，母亲在被海浪卷走前喘息着说，“一切都结束了。”她的遗体至今仍未找到。
现在，须藤明和他的妻子及两个孩子暂住在一所学校体育馆内的一个紧急避难所。他说，他想留在陆前高田市。但事实上，他不知道这是不是有可能。
就连商业社团的中流砥柱都在动摇。
Suisen清酒酿造厂的总裁今野保彦(Yasuhiko Konno)说，他尚未决定是否在市区的场址重建他公司的酿酒厂。海浪将酿酒厂冲击得千疮百孔，用来储藏清酒的巨大绿色金属罐被冲得四处漂散，最远的漂到了三英里外的地方。Suisen是陆前高田市规模最大的企业之一。
现年64岁的今野保彦是本地人。他说，“我们在这里建厂是为了盈利，我不得不怀疑陆前高田市在遭受如此严重的损伤之后还能否复原。在四周别无他物的情况下建造一家清酒厂显然是不智之举。”
市长刀羽太将劝说人们留下视为其工作当中很重要的一个部分。他希望能从中央和县级政府获得足够的帮助，在具有带头作用的市民离开前向他们展示重建进展。
他一直在努力劝说将于今年退休的公务员推迟卸任时间，以确保有足够的人力开展重建工作。
刀羽太说，“这座城市的规模可能会比以前小一些。”他的妻子不在了，但他的儿子还活着，他希望当他们长大时，陆前高田市依然还在。
他说，“当我看着儿子们的小脸蛋时，我知道自己必须继续坚持下去。这是我的使命，我必须去完成那些需要做的工作。”
18年前当刀羽太来到陆前高田市时，他做梦也想不到会有今天这样的遭遇。
刀羽太出生在东京附近，在28岁时迁居到这座海边小城。低迷的经济使身为电脑程式师的他很难在首都谋生。他选择陆前高田市是因为这里是他父亲的出生地和家园，他说他很快就爱上了这里的自然美景和悠闲自在的感觉。
刚到这座小城，他就在一家本地的家禽加工厂找到了工作。在这里，他遇见了久美，她出生在北边的另一座海滨小城。
久美比他小七岁，拥有优雅美丽的容貌和一头乌黑的秀发，看起来比她的实际年龄还要年轻一些。当他们在一家珠宝店挑选订婚戒指时，一位店员问他是不是在帮女儿买戒指。
他说，“即使是现在，她看起来也就20多岁的样子。”
刀羽太回忆道，她喜欢收藏美国火皇(Fire-King)古董玻璃器皿，还喜欢制作手工艺品。她会制作压花图案的皮革手机链，还和她的朋友一起在临时摊位出售这些小饰品。
她从未质疑过她丈夫做出的成为一位政治家的决定，尽管她实际上并不喜欢政治。他说，她选择了容忍和迁就。
刀羽太说，从政甚至也不是他本人的想法。他的父亲在政界工作，在几年前的一次市议会选举之时，他父亲帮忙组织造势，要他出来参选。有一天当他回到家时，发现有150来个老街坊看着他，然后开始鼓掌，他都不知道发生了什么事。
刀羽老先生大约在10年前去世。他向他的儿子保证，他不需要做很多事，只需张贴一些竞选海报就可以。但是他还没来得及看到儿子参与竞选以及向人群发表讲话的场面。
进入市议会后，刀羽太把闲暇时间用来走访街坊四邻，和他们闲谈，关注他们的需求。
然而，他很快意识到，如果他只是市议会的一名成员，他的办事能量就会受到限制。他说，“我总是在想，有朝一日，即使只是当个小村长，我也要按照我所认为的最佳方式来打造它。”
他当了几年的副市长。然后，市长生病了，决定卸任。当刀羽太告诉妻子他想竞选市长时，她只说了一句，“好的，我理解你。”
刀羽太的竞选口号是消减该市数年大举支出之后累积的债务。他希望将陆前高田市的海滨发展为度假胜地和退休养老胜地，以吸引更多富裕的日本老年居民。
在2月份赢得选举后，他就开始忙于准备市政预算，礼节性地拜会了当地的达官显贵。他知道自己陪伴妻子的时间不多，但总觉得以后会有时间的。
在灾难发生后，刀羽太的市长日程暂时被放在了一边。最初几天，他只能努力让自己保持平静。他不知道他的妻子在哪里，但是，考虑到此次灾难带来的破坏程度，以及成百上千位被埋在瓦砾堆下的失踪人员，他不能去寻找自己的妻子。
在重重残骸物的阻隔下，他无法靠近自己的家，而且有政府的搜救队在对这个地区进行地毯式搜索。
在供电中断、救济品严重匮乏以及成千上万的灾民急需救助的情况下，这位元市长决定把精力集中在他所能做的事情上：帮助幸存者。
刀羽太请求他的朋友们制作尽可能多的饭团并分发出去。他要求士兵清理道路，这样更多的救灾物资就可以被运送进来。几周后回想起来，他并不能确定有时候自己在做什么，大部分回忆是一片模糊。
在灾难发生一周后，食品和饮用水开始更加定期地运抵当地，还有军队帮助分发。但是，对牙刷和纸尿裤这些基本生活用品的需求仍然得不到满足。
当时，刀羽太说，任何关于恢复该市渔业或其他重建工作的想法看起来都遥不可及。燃眉之急是获得汽油，以及确保老年人有足够的药品。
为了使政府官员相信他需要更多的説明，刀羽太邀请东京的一位议员在该市的一个紧急疏散中心过夜。这位议员开始抱怨国家的救援工作进展缓慢。当刀羽太提出邀请日本首相在灾难发生三周后访问陆前高田市时，这位议员考虑了一下，说道，“现在，他会来的。”
随着日子的推移，一套新的工作程式开始形成。每天下午，刀羽太都会心情沉重地就该市的最新伤亡资料与记者召开简短的新闻发布会，更新已经找到遗体的遇难者名单。他没有太多的时间去想他的妻子，甚至孩子，仅仅是有时会和他们通个电话。
市政府的幸存人员在一所学校的厨房里成立了指挥部，征用了一些电脑来办公。消防和员警部门的临时驻地则设在停车场一带。由于没有自来水，就在后面挖掘了一条沟渠作为公共厕所。
刀羽太不停地给县级官员打电话，敦促他们开始建设临时房屋，这一点对于防止居民流失至关重要。日本首相菅直人(Naoto Kan)一度要求刀羽太也要做好准备，暂时将居民转移到受灾程度较轻的内陆城市，但是刀羽太拒绝了这个要求。
刀羽太说，“我们有联系非常紧密的社区。我们需要把人聚集在一起。”
3月26日，建设活动终于开始了，这使陆前高田市成为最先开始建造临时房屋的城市之一。一大群建筑工人将首批带有室内抽水马桶和取暖装置的36间活动板房组装在一起，很快就竖立在作为紧急避难所的一所中学门前。有1,000多人参加了市政府组织的抽签，以决定房屋的归属。那些幸运的极少数中签者可以在4月10日搬进这些活动板房。
刀羽太还取得了其他一些小小的胜利：在和当地一家制衣厂的老板会晤后，他获得了该厂捐赠的一批女士内衣，这正是暂住在避难所内的女士们所急需的东西。
当紧急救助的急迫性开始下降后，陆前高田市面临的无比艰难的挑战就变得显而易见了。
该市的桥梁、道路和铁路网都被黑浪破坏或损毁。市区电网被摧毁。一家在10年前耗资约2亿美元建造的污水处理厂消失得无影无踪。耗费巨资修建的宽大的海啸防护墙曾经保护过这座城市，但现在已经沦为废墟。在防护墙得到重建之前，可能要采取其他替代措施来保护这座城市与海平面齐平的地区了。
存放在市政厅的几乎所有档资料都被毁坏。合同、设计图和最近的缴税凭证都被冲走了。官员们不得不根据从游客手册上撕下来的地图评估损失，修理城市道路和桥梁。
一些市政建筑（包括市政厅、一所消防局和一个运动中心）依然挺立不倒，但也被严重损坏，必须予以拆除。刀羽太正在努力筹集爆破所需的资金。他说，如果由市政府自己来出这笔钱，那么就没有任何余钱用来建造新设施了。
自1970年以来，陆前高田市的人口一直在不断缩减，超过三分之一的市民是65岁以上的老人，而整个日本的老年人比例为20%。过去，该市为了吸引更多游客而兴建了一些项目，这笔支出所带来的债务负担将使重建计划受到限制。被此次海啸冲毁的一座贝壳博物馆就是此类项目之一。
当地官员还没有开始计算总的损失。虽然东京方面可能会帮助筹集重建资金，但资金到位的具体时间和具体金额还不得而知。
重建需要创新精神。一个周六的下午，刀羽太一边用手指梳理着日渐稀疏的头发一边说道，“我们需要采取一些激烈的举措。”过度的劳累使他的面孔看起来无精打采。
他说，一个选择是把市区周围一座高山的山顶推平，以建造更多的山顶住宅区，然后用多下来的泥土把整个市区的海拔高度提升60英尺。但现在还不知道由谁来付这笔钱。
刀羽太早些时为陆前高田市设定的发展旅游业的宏伟计划看起来是更加不可能实现了。矗立在白色沙滩边的数万棵松树曾使陆前高田市成为旅游胜地，但现在都被海啸冲毁了，只剩下了孤零零的一棵。
在劝说居民留下的过程中，这位市长找到了一些同盟者，现年35岁的佐佐木隆(Takashi Sasaki)就是其中之一。佐佐木隆在几年前离开陆前高田市，到东京找了份电脑系统工程师的工作。但是，和大部分同伴不一样的是，他于去年返回家乡，帮助他父亲经营一个家族印刷企业。
3月11日，佐佐木隆用他的数码相机将海啸视频上传到互联网。当他看到海浪如此可怕之后，就和父亲松尾(Matsuo)跑进了市政厅。然后，他们和市长一起在市政厅的顶楼度过了一夜。
佐佐木隆的母亲、姨母和祖母都遇难了。佐佐木隆称，尽管搜寻了好几天，但他没能找到他家的房屋和家族印刷厂留下的任何痕迹。
佐佐木隆称，尽管失去了一切，他还是决定留在这座城市，并参与重建。
在海啸发生一个月后，刀羽太的努力终于取得了明显的成果，因为有越来越多的市民在他的带领下开始恢复正常的生活。上周，这座小城重新开设了第一家派出所，这种小型员警站是大多数日本社区必须配备的机构。
岩手银行(Bank of Iwate)在附近的一个拖车上开设了一家临时分行，每天营业四个小时。在街道拐角处的一个预制棚里，该市的商会开设了一个办公室，以帮助当地企业。
然而，在这座城市地势较低的盆地，仍然有数量惊人的工作要做。一些碎石堆已经被移开，以便为汽车和运送土方的设备开辟道路。但是，陆前高田市的大部分地方看起来还是像一个巨大的垃圾填埋场。
4月5日，这位市长接到了一个能让他把所有的一切都抛诸脑后的电话。停尸所里有一具遗体很像他的妻子久美，此前一天正是久美的39岁生日。这位女士的遗体是在离他们家约2,000英尺的高地被发现的。
接到电话后的几个小时，刀羽太一直没有勇气离开办公室。最后，他终于来到了停尸所。遗体已经被严重损坏，但确实是久美。
他不知道该如何把这个消息告诉他的两个儿子，他不愿意让他们看到这个样子的母亲，不希望他们以这种方式来记住他们的母亲。他说，“对他们来说，她就像是一位朋友。由于我总是很忙，他们有问题的时候总是跑去找他们的母亲。”
站在妻子的遗体前，他为自己未能去找她而向她道歉。他告诉她，作为市长所肩负的责任使他不能去找她
事后，刀羽太说，“每当我想到这一点时，真的会质疑自己到底是一个什么样的人。”
Gordon Fairclough / Daisuke Wakabayashi
（本文版权归道琼斯公司所有，未经许可不得翻译或转载。）
http://cn.wsj.com/gb/20110413/bas085401.asp
Minutes before a violent earthquake convulsed City Hall, Futoshi Toba was enjoying a quiet Friday afternoon after a month of nearly nonstop work since becoming mayor of this small coastal city.
He called his wife, Kumi, at 2:40 p.m., March 11, to suggest they take their two young sons to a barbecue place for dinner. She promised that she'd email him soon to let him know.
The conversation wasn't much, but fate doesn't always allow for eloquence.
At 2:46, tremors from the magnitude-9 earthquake about 60 miles offshore convulsed Rikuzentakata, knocking out electricity and phones. Soon afterwards, a wall of black water more than 40 feet high smashed through the 20-foot high seawall and poured into the heart of the city.
Mr. Toba and dozens of local residents scrambled up the stairs to the roof of the four-story City Hall, a steel-reinforced concrete building downtown. The tsunami sent water surging as high as the building's top floor.
Trucks and buses were tossed end over end. Houses, pulled loose from their foundations, floated toward the sea, the people inside screaming for help.
'When I looked back in the direction of my home, I just saw all the houses being crushed,' Mr. Toba said. 'The sound of the wood splintering was so loud.'
Mr. Toba's sons, Taiga, 12, and Kanato, 10, were at a hilltop school, and escaped the tsunami. But his wife was at home, closer to sea level, as she usually was during the day.
'I considered just ignoring everyone, hopping in my car, and rushing to get her. But I really couldn't do that,' he said, explaining that his duties as mayor required him to lead his colleagues to safety. 'I was thinking the whole time: 'I hope she was able to get away.'' By the time the waves finally started to recede, Rikuzentakata had been reduced to a tangle of smashed cars, shattered wood and twisted steel. The banks were washed away. Gas stations, gone. Grocery stores, gone. Hospital, gone.
More than 2,300 people -- a tenth of the population here -- were dead or missing.
A month later, Mr. Toba finds himself in a role of bewildering complexity and responsibility, as Japan struggles to recover from the worst natural disaster of its modern history and its leaders debate how -- and even whether -- to rebuild a part of the country that was already in steep decline. The decisions Mr. Toba and other local politicians make now may well determine whether the hard-hit areas on the northeast coast survive and thrive, or never recover.
After past disasters -- the 1995 earthquake that wrecked the port city of Kobe and the 1923 quake that killed more than 100,000 around Tokyo -- Japan rebuilt quickly. But the situation in Rikuzentakata and other communities along the craggy shoreline here is far different.
The region had been in trouble long before the disaster: Many young people had gone in search of a better life elsewhere, leaving behind an aging population and dying industries. Pessimists question the economic logic of investing to rebuild its shrinking towns and cities.
'It's hard to be a leader in a situation like this,' the 46-year-old Mr. Toba said one recent Saturday afternoon, as he worked from a temporary command post in the office of the city schools' central kitchen. 'We are going to have to start again from scratch.'
Dressed in borrowed clothes -- a city-worker uniform with a beige windbreaker, matching pants and a pair of black Reebok sneakers -- Mr. Toba can often be found pacing the pavement outside his command center, smoking a dwindling supply of Marlboro Ultralights and cajoling national and regional officials over a mobile phone that hangs from a strap around his neck.
His successes so far -- like scrounging enough fuel to keep some of Rikuzentakata's remaining cars running a few days more, or securing supplies for the 10,000 citizens who remain homeless here -- in some ways only underscore the daunting scale of the task ahead.
Mr. Toba's preoccupation with the town's misery can't completely obliterate what has happened to his own life with Kumi and Taiga and Kanato. The boys are staying with Mr. Toba's uncle. The mayor sees them when he can, but most nights he sleeps on the floor beside his desk in the makeshift command center.
He hasn't returned to his house downtown, either, aside from a quick glimpse soon after the disaster. He could only get close enough to make out that its shell was still standing, but the roof of another home had come to rest atop it.
Inside, his home is filled with painful reminders: A mud-covered jacket and some ties hang in a first-floor closet. The floor is littered with photos, including pictures of a younger Mr. Toba in a gray suit with Kumi on their wedding day. In another mud-stained picture, his wife -- in a white T-shirt with turquoise sleeves and black shoulder-length hair -- wraps her arms around one of the children and laughs.
For weeks, Mr. Toba had been too busy to visit the morgue to see if Kumi was there. He also dreaded what he might find.
'As a husband, I'd like to go search for my wife, but I need to lead the way on the recovery effort,' the mayor said late last month. 'Many people here are in the same situation.'
Rikuzentakata has been inhabited for 1,000 years. Spread out across a plain surrounded by mountains running down to the sea, it drew fame for its scallops, sea urchins and a special breed of oysters that sold for as much as $5 a piece in Tokyo restaurants. A wooded area with pine trees along its sandy beach was once declared by the government to be one of Japan's 100 most beautiful sights.
The city also has a history of tsunamis. One touched off in 1960 by an earthquake in Chile killed eight people and inundated parts of the city near the beach.
But there had never been anything remotely like the waves that struck on March 11.
City officials who had rushed out to warn residents were washed away. One of the mayor's advisers tried carrying an elderly woman, but quickly realized he wouldn't be able to run fast enough with her on his back. He left her behind on a second-floor stair landing in City Hall. 'Sorry grandma,' he said, before dashing up to the roof. He never saw her again.
The tsunami blew out the rear wall of a downtown sports center that had been designated as an emergency refuge, drowning nearly all of the dozens of people who sought shelter there.
Two firemen clung to a watch tower atop a fire station. Helicopters eventually rescued the men and pulled some other survivors to safety from downtown rooftops before darkness fell. Exploding gas cylinders sent up plumes of flame.
At around 7 p.m., it started to snow. Some survivors gathered up debris and started a bonfire for warmth and to provide a beacon for any rescuers. The mayor and his aides huddled around a radio, listening to news bulletins.
Aftershocks continued through the night, and roiling waves swept in and out. Mr. Toba said he feared the entire building would collapse. 'We were just praying for daylight.'
At dawn, Rikuzentakata began to assess the staggering human toll. It was one of the worst-hit Japanese cities. Of its roughly 23,000 inhabitants, more than 1,100 are confirmed dead. Nearly 1,200 are missing and presumed killed. Hundreds of bodies in the temporary morgue set up in a gymnasium remain unidentified.
The police chief, two members of the city council and the three top school officials perished in the tsunami. One-third of city workers have died.
Many of the survivors are questioning whether to stay. Akira Suto, a 55-year-old construction worker, said he can't forget the wall of icy ocean water as it pitched him head over heels, breaking his grip on his 82-year-old mother as the pair ran from their home, trying to flee.
'It's over,' his mother gasped, before she was dragged away by the waves, he said. Her body still hasn't been recovered.
Mr. Suto, who is staying with his wife and two children at an emergency shelter in a school gym, said he'd like to remain in Rikuzentakata. 'In reality, I don't know if it will be possible,' he said.
Even pillars of the business community are wavering.
Yasuhiko Konno, president of the Suisen sake brewery that was one of Rikuzentakata's biggest employers, said he hasn't decided whether to rebuild his company's factory on the downtown site. Waves punched holes in the brewery and scattered its giant green metal sake tanks as far as three miles away.
'We are here to make a profit, and I have to wonder if Rikuzentakata can come back from this level of damage,' said Mr. Konno, a 64-year-old native of the city. 'It doesn't make sense to build a sake factory with nothing else around.'
Mayor Toba sees it as an essential part of his job to persuade people to stay. He hopes to wheedle enough support from the national and prefecture governments to show progress rebuilding before leading citizens move away.
He has been trying to persuade civil servants set to retire this year to delay stepping down to ensure he has enough manpower to rebuild.
'The city might be smaller than it was before,' Mr. Toba said. His wife was missing, but his sons were alive, and he wanted to be sure Rikuzentakata would still be there when they got older.
'When I see the faces of my sons, I know I just have to keep going,' he said. 'This is my destiny, and I just have to do what needs to be done.'
None of this is what Mr. Toba had in mind when he came to Rikuzentakata 18 years ago.
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Born near Tokyo, he moved to the coastal community when he was 28. Tough economic times had made it hard for him to earn a living as a computer programmer in the capital. He chose Rikuzentakata because it was his father's birthplace and home, and he said he quickly came to love its natural beauty and laid-back feeling.
When he first arrived in town, he found work at a local poultry-processing company. It was there that he met Kumi, a native of another small city up the coast.
She was seven years his junior, with delicate features and dark black hair, and looked younger than her age. When they were picking out engagement rings in a jewelry store, Mr. Toba recalled, a clerk asked if he was shopping for his daughter.
'Even now, she looks like she's in her 20s,' he said.
She collected vintage American Fire-King glassware and enjoyed making handicrafts, Mr. Toba recalled. She made leather trinkets with embossed designs to hang on cell phones, which she sold at temporary shops with her friends.
She never questioned her husband's decision to become a politician -- though she didn't really like it. 'She put up with it,' he said.
It wasn't really even Mr. Toba's idea, he said. His father was in politics, and when a city council election came up several years ago, his father helped organize efforts to draft him. He came home one day and there were about '150 old folks from the neighborhood who turned to me and started clapping -- I didn't know what was going on.'
The elder Mr. Toba, who died about a decade ago, promised his son he wouldn't need to do much, just put up some posters. But before he knew it, the son was campaigning and talking to crowds.
Once he was on the city council, he spent his free time walking through neighborhoods, chatting with people and looking after their needs.
He soon realized, though, that as long as he was just another council member, his ability to get things done was limited. 'I always thought that one day, even if it's being just a village head, I wanted to be able to shape a town in the way I thought best,' he said.
For years, he served as deputy mayor. Then the mayor became ill and decided not to run again. When Mr. Toba told his wife he wanted the job, 'she just said, 'OK, I understand.''
Mr. Toba's campaign called for reducing the city's debt after years of heavy spending. He hoped to turn Rikuzentakata's beachfront into a popular resort and retirement area to attract more of Japan's affluent older residents.
After his victory in February, he got busy preparing the city budget and making courtesy calls on local dignitaries. He wasn't spending much time his wife, he knew. But there would be time for that later.
Mr. Toba's mayoral agenda went by the wayside when the disaster struck. In the first few days, he just tried to stay calm. He didn't know where his wife was, but given the scale of the destruction -- and the hundreds of missing people buried beneath the rubble -- he couldn't do much about it.
So much wreckage blocked his home that he couldn't get near it, and government search-and-rescue teams were combing the area.
There was no electricity, few relief supplies. With thousands of people in desperate need, the mayor decided to focus on what he could do: Help survivors.
Mayor Toba pleaded with friends to make as many rice balls as possible and give them out. He asked soldiers to clear roads so more supplies could get in. Looking back several weeks later, he's not sure what he did some of the time: Much of it was a blur.
A week after the disaster, food and water began arriving more regularly along with troops to distribute aid. But basic needs, for such things as toothbrushes and diapers, still weren't being met.
Any talk of reviving the city's fishing industry or other rebuilding efforts was 'far, far off,' Mr. Toba said, a week after the disaster. The most pressing needs were getting gasoline and making sure the elderly had enough medicine.
To persuade government officials that he needed more help, Mr. Toba invited lawmakers from Tokyo to spend the night in one of the city's emergency evacuation centers. He complained about how slow national relief efforts were. When asked about a visit by the prime minister to Rikuzentakata three weeks after the disaster, he rolled his eyes and said: 'Now, he comes.'
As the days passed, a routine set in. Every afternoon, Mr. Toba somberly briefed reporters on the city's latest casualty numbers, and handed out updated lists of dead citizens whose bodies had been discovered. There wasn't much time to think about his wife, or even his kids, though he spoke to the boys sometimes on the phone.
The surviving members of his administration set up their command post in a school kitchen using commandeered computers. Temporary quarters for the fire and police departments were set up across the parking lot. Since there was no running water, a trench latrine was dug out back.
Mayor Toba burned up the phones calling and pressuring prefectural officials to begin construction of temporary homes -- critical to keeping citizens from drifting away. At one point, Prime Minister Naoto Kan told Mr. Toba he might as well plan to temporarily move his people to less damaged cities inland -- but Mr. Toba refused.
'We have very tight-knit communities. We need to keep people together,' Mr. Toba said.
On March 26, construction finally began, making Rikuzentakata one of the first cities to start building temporary homes. The first 36 modular apartments with indoor plumbing and heating were hammered together by an army of construction workers and went up quickly in front of a middle school that served as an emergency shelter. More than 1,000 people entered the city lottery to receive a home.
Mr. Toba scored other small victories: After he met with the owner of a local clothing-manufacturing firm, the town received a donation of women's underwear, desperately needed by women living in emergency shelters.
As the immediate tasks of emergency assistance started to fade, the scale of challenges facing Rikuzentakata became painfully apparent.
Bridges, roadways and the city's rail connection were damaged or destroyed by the black waves. The power grid downtown was wiped out. A waste-water treatment plant -- built a decade ago for about $200 million -- disappeared without a trace. The massive, and expensive, tsunami defense wall that once shielded the city was reduced to ruins. It will likely have to be replaced to protect the sea-level sections of the city before they can be rebuilt.
Nearly all of the city's paper records, stored in City Hall, were destroyed. Contracts, blueprints and recent city-tax payments were all swept away. Officials have to rely on maps ripped from tourist brochures as they assess damage and repair city roads and bridges.
Some city-owned buildings -- including City Hall, a fire station and a sports center -- remain standing, but are so badly damaged that they will have to be torn down. Mr. Toba is trying to find money for the demolition. If the city has to pay itself, there won't be any money left to build new facilities, he said.
Rikuzentakata's population had already been shrinking steadily since 1970, and more than a third of the city's residents are over 65 years old, compared with about 20% in Japan as a whole. Any reconstruction plans will be limited by debts from past spending on schemes to attract more tourists. One such project, a seashell museum, was demolished by the tsunami.
Local officials haven't begun to calculate the total cost of the damage. And while it seems likely that Tokyo will help foot the bill for reconstruction, the timing and amount of any money remain distressingly unclear.
Rebuilding will take creativity. 'We will need to do something drastic,' Mr. Toba said one Saturday afternoon, running his fingers through his thinning hair, his face sagging with exhaustion.
One option, he said, would be to bulldoze the top of one of the mountains that ring the downtown to create more hilltop residential areas, and then use the extra earth to raise the level of the city center by about 60 feet. But it's unclear who would pay for that.
Mr. Toba's earlier big idea for Rikuzentakata -- tourism -- seems especially unlikely. The tens of thousands of pine trees that once lined Rikuzentakata's white sandy beach, making it a tourist destination, were destroyed by the tsunami. Only one remains standing.
In his quest to get residents to stay, the mayor has found some allies. One is 35-year-old Takashi Sasaki, who abandoned Rikuzentakata years ago to work in Tokyo as a computer-systems engineer. Unlike most of his peers, he decided to return home last year and help his father run a family printing business.
On March 11, Mr. Sasaki was using his digital camera to stream video of the tsunami to the Internet. When he saw the size of the waves, he and his father, Matsuo, raced into City Hall, where they spent the night on the upper floors along with the mayor.
Mr. Sasaki's mother, aunt and grandmother died. Despite days of searching, Mr. Sasaki said he hasn't found any trace of his home or the family print shop.
Even though they lost everything, Mr. Sasaki said he's committed to staying in the city. 'I want to stay here and rebuild,' he said.
A month after the tsunami, the fruits of Mr. Toba's efforts are evident, as a growing number of citizens follow his lead, picking up the pieces of their lives. Last week, the town reopened its first koban, a small neighborhood police station, which is a staple of most Japanese communities.
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Nearby, the Bank of Iwate has opened a temporary branch in a trailer for four hours a day. Around the corner, in a prefabricated shed, the city's Chamber of Commerce has opened an office to help local businesses. The lucky few who won a slot in Rikuzentakata's temporary homes can move in on Sunday.
In the town's lower basin, though, a staggering amount of work remains. Mounds of rubble have been plowed aside to create roads for cars and earth-moving equipment. But much of Rikuzentakata still resembles a massive landfill.
On Tuesday, the mayor got a call that would push all that into the background. There was a body in the morgue that resembled his wife, whose 39th birthday had been the day before. The woman's body had been found about 2,000 feet uphill from their home.
For several hours, Mr. Toba couldn't get away from the office. At last, he made his way down to the morgue. The body was badly damaged. But it was Kumi.
He debated what to tell his sons, and thought he didn't want to let them see her like that. It wasn't how he wanted them to remember their mother. 'She was like a friend to them,' he said. 'Since I was always so busy, they always ran to their mother.'
Standing before her body, he apologized to his wife for not coming to find her. His responsibilities as mayor, he told her, kept him away.
'When I think about that,' Mr. Toba said afterward, 'it really makes me question what kind of human being I am.'
Gordon Fairclough / Daisuke Wakabayashi
日本小城市长的生死抉择
2011年 04月 13日 08:52
在那场毁灭性的地震撼动陆前高田市(Rikuzentakata)市政厅之前的几分钟，市长刀羽太(Futoshi Toba)（本文所有人名均为音译）正在享受一个安静的周五下午时光。自从担任这座沿海小城的市长以来，他已经几乎连续不间断地工作了一个月。
3月11日下午2点40分，他给妻子久美(Kumi)打了个电话，提议晚上带两个年幼的儿子去吃烧烤。她答应马上给他写电子邮件回复去不去。
这个谈话很简短，但是，命运有时候不给人细说的机会。
2点46分，距日本东北部沿海约60英里的海底发生的9级强震使陆前高田市猛烈晃动起来，毁坏了电力和通讯设备。此后不久，一堵超过40英尺高的黑色水墙冲过了20英尺高的海堤，涌入市中心。
刀羽太和几十位本地居民急忙冲上市政厅的房顶，这是一座位于市中心的钢骨混凝土结构的四层建筑。海啸引发的洪水漫过了这座建筑物的顶层。
卡车和公共汽车被巨浪抛掷得来回翻滚。在大浪冲击下，房屋与地基分离，漂向大海，屋里的人们惊叫着寻求帮助。
刀羽太说，“当我回首遥望自家方向时，只能看见所有的房屋都被冲毁。木头碎裂的声音响彻天际。”
刀羽太现年46岁，他的两个儿子——12岁的大河(Taiga)和10岁的奏多(Kanato)——当时正在位于山顶的学校里，得以躲过了海啸。但是，他的妻子像往常一样呆在地势更接近海平面的家中。
他说，“我曾想过抛开所有人，不顾一切地跳进车里，冲回家救她。但我真的不能这么做。”他解释说，作为市长所肩负的职责要求他把同事们带到安全地带。他当时一直在想，但愿她能逃脱险境。
当海浪最终开始退却时，陆前高田市已经被毁坏得面目全非，破烂的汽车、碎裂的木头和扭曲的钢筋交织在一起。银行被冲走了，加油站没了，杂货店没了，医院也没了。有超过2300人死亡或失踪，占当地人口的十分之一。
一个月后，刀羽太发现自己需要应付令人左右为难的复杂局面并肩负重任，因为日本要努力从现代历史上最严重的一场自然灾害中恢复过来，日本的领导者们正在讨论如何（甚至是否要）重建这个经济已经在急剧下滑的地区。刀羽太和其他当地政治家做出的决策很有可能就决定了遭受沉重打击的东北部沿海地区的命运：究竟是顽强地活下去并繁荣发展，还是从此一蹶不振？
在以往的天灾（比如1995年摧毁港口城市神户的大地震，还有1923年造成东京地区逾10万人死亡的大地震）过后，日本很快进行了重建。但是，分布在崎岖海岸线上的陆前高田及其他乡镇的情况和这些大城市很不一样。
在灾难发生前，这个地区早就陷入了困境：年轻人去其他地方谋求更好的生活，留下的只是一些老年人和夕阳产业。对这个地区持悲观看法的人认为，投资重建这些江河日下的城镇不符合经济学原理。
在最近的一个周六的下午，刀羽太正在设在该市一所学校的中央厨房内的一个临时指挥所开展工作。他说，“在这种情况下，领导人确实很难当。我们必须一切从头开始。”
刀羽太经常在指挥中心门外的人行道上来回踱步，穿着一身借来的衣服（一件市政工人的制服、米色的风衣和配套的长裤，再加上一双黑色的锐步运动鞋），抽着越来越稀缺的超醇万宝路(Marlboro Ultralights)，他不时拿起挂在脖子上的手机，联络中央和地方官员，努力寻求帮助。
到目前为止他取得的成果包括：为陆前高田市剩余的一些汽车讨来能够多跑几天的汽油，或者为依然无家可归的1万名市民争取生活补给品。从某种角度来看，这些成果只是突显了摆在他面前的任务的艰巨性。
尽管刀羽太全身心地投入到改善这座城市悲惨境况的工作中，但这并不能使他完全忘记自己和久美、大河及奏多一家人的生活发生的剧变。两个孩子目前和刀羽太的叔叔呆在一起。身为市长的父亲尽量抽空去看望儿子，但是在大多数夜晚，他都是睡在临时指挥中心办公桌旁边的地板上。
他也没有回过位于市区的家中，只是在灾难发生后匆匆地望了一眼。在那么远的距离下，他只能依稀辨认出他家房屋的外框依然挺立，但有另一所房子的屋顶搭在他家房屋的屋顶上。
在他家的房屋里面，充满了令人痛苦的印迹：在一楼的衣橱里，挂着一件沾满泥浆的外套和一些领带。地板上散落着照片，其中包括身穿灰色西装的刀羽和久美在结婚当天的照片。在另一张被污泥弄脏的照片中，他的妻子久美身穿袖子是青绿色的白色T恤、黑发齐肩，笑容满面，臂弯里揽着他们的一个孩子。
几周以来，刀羽太一直非常繁忙，都没有时间去停尸所看看久美是否在那儿。其实他也很害怕自己可能看到的一幕。
在上个月月底的时候，这位市长说，“作为一个丈夫，我想去寻找我的妻子，但我必须领导灾后恢复工作。这里的许多人都面临相同的境况。”
陆前高田市有人居住的历史已经有一千年了。穿过一个被群山环绕的平原，就可以看到大海，当地著名的特产有扇贝、海胆和一种品种特别的牡蛎，这种牡蛎在东京的餐馆可以卖到五美元一只。在沙质海滩边是一片松树林，曾被日本政府列为日本最美的100处景点之一。
这座城市历史上也曾发生过海啸。1960年由智利地震引起的海啸导致当地八人丧生，海水淹没了该市靠近海滩的地区。
但是，从来没有哪一次海啸能与3月11日发生的这一次相提并论。
那些冲出门警告居民的市政官员被海浪冲走了。一位市长顾问试图带着一位老奶奶一起转移，但他很快就意识到背着她跑不快，两人都无法逃生。他只好把她放在市政厅二楼的台阶上，抱歉地说，“对不起，奶奶。”然后匆忙跑上顶楼。后来，他再也没有见到这位老奶奶。
海啸冲垮了市区被当作紧急避难所的一个运动中心的后墙，在这里寻求避难的几十个人几乎全部被淹死。
两位消防员爬上消防局屋顶的一个了望塔。最终，在夜幕降临前，直升飞机救起了这两名男子，并将其他一些幸存者从市区的屋顶转移到安全地带。多处煤气罐爆炸，引发了熊熊烈火。
下午7点左右，天开始下雪。一些幸存者收集碎木块，燃起一堆篝火取暖，同时也是向救援人员发出信号。市长和他的助手们围在一台收音机前，收听最新的灾情公报。
余震持续了一整夜，咆哮的海浪一次次地涨起又落下。刀羽太称，他担心整座建筑物会倒塌。大家只能祈祷白天快点来临。
黎明时分，陆前高田市开始统计令人震惊的伤亡人数。它是日本受灾最严重的城市之一。在大约23,000位居民当中，有超过1,100人被证实死亡，有近1,200人失踪，估计已经死亡。在一个体育馆设立的临时停尸所里有成百上千具遗体还没有被确认身份。
警察局长、市议会的两名议员和三位学校的高级官员在海啸中丧生。三分之一的市政工人遇难。
许多幸存者质疑自己是否应该继续留在这里。现年55岁的建筑工人须藤明(Akira Suto)说，他无法忘记，当他和82岁的母亲携手跑出家门试图逃走时，冰冷的海浪墙将他打翻在地，冲开了他和母亲紧握在一起的两只手。
他说，母亲在被海浪卷走前喘息着说，“一切都结束了。”她的遗体至今仍未找到。
现在，须藤明和他的妻子及两个孩子暂住在一所学校体育馆内的一个紧急避难所。他说，他想留在陆前高田市。但事实上，他不知道这是不是有可能。
就连商业社团的中流砥柱都在动摇。
Suisen清酒酿造厂的总裁今野保彦(Yasuhiko Konno)说，他尚未决定是否在市区的场址重建他公司的酿酒厂。海浪将酿酒厂冲击得千疮百孔，用来储藏清酒的巨大绿色金属罐被冲得四处漂散，最远的漂到了三英里外的地方。Suisen是陆前高田市规模最大的企业之一。
现年64岁的今野保彦是本地人。他说，“我们在这里建厂是为了盈利，我不得不怀疑陆前高田市在遭受如此严重的损伤之后还能否复原。在四周别无他物的情况下建造一家清酒厂显然是不智之举。”
市长刀羽太将劝说人们留下视为其工作当中很重要的一个部分。他希望能从中央和县级政府获得足够的帮助，在具有带头作用的市民离开前向他们展示重建进展。
他一直在努力劝说将于今年退休的公务员推迟卸任时间，以确保有足够的人力开展重建工作。
刀羽太说，“这座城市的规模可能会比以前小一些。”他的妻子不在了，但他的儿子还活着，他希望当他们长大时，陆前高田市依然还在。
他说，“当我看着儿子们的小脸蛋时，我知道自己必须继续坚持下去。这是我的使命，我必须去完成那些需要做的工作。”
18年前当刀羽太来到陆前高田市时，他做梦也想不到会有今天这样的遭遇。
刀羽太出生在东京附近，在28岁时迁居到这座海边小城。低迷的经济使身为电脑程式师的他很难在首都谋生。他选择陆前高田市是因为这里是他父亲的出生地和家园，他说他很快就爱上了这里的自然美景和悠闲自在的感觉。
刚到这座小城，他就在一家本地的家禽加工厂找到了工作。在这里，他遇见了久美，她出生在北边的另一座海滨小城。
久美比他小七岁，拥有优雅美丽的容貌和一头乌黑的秀发，看起来比她的实际年龄还要年轻一些。当他们在一家珠宝店挑选订婚戒指时，一位店员问他是不是在帮女儿买戒指。
他说，“即使是现在，她看起来也就20多岁的样子。”
刀羽太回忆道，她喜欢收藏美国火皇(Fire-King)古董玻璃器皿，还喜欢制作手工艺品。她会制作压花图案的皮革手机链，还和她的朋友一起在临时摊位出售这些小饰品。
她从未质疑过她丈夫做出的成为一位政治家的决定，尽管她实际上并不喜欢政治。他说，她选择了容忍和迁就。
刀羽太说，从政甚至也不是他本人的想法。他的父亲在政界工作，在几年前的一次市议会选举之时，他父亲帮忙组织造势，要他出来参选。有一天当他回到家时，发现有150来个老街坊看着他，然后开始鼓掌，他都不知道发生了什么事。
刀羽老先生大约在10年前去世。他向他的儿子保证，他不需要做很多事，只需张贴一些竞选海报就可以。但是他还没来得及看到儿子参与竞选以及向人群发表讲话的场面。
进入市议会后，刀羽太把闲暇时间用来走访街坊四邻，和他们闲谈，关注他们的需求。
然而，他很快意识到，如果他只是市议会的一名成员，他的办事能量就会受到限制。他说，“我总是在想，有朝一日，即使只是当个小村长，我也要按照我所认为的最佳方式来打造它。”
他当了几年的副市长。然后，市长生病了，决定卸任。当刀羽太告诉妻子他想竞选市长时，她只说了一句，“好的，我理解你。”
刀羽太的竞选口号是消减该市数年大举支出之后累积的债务。他希望将陆前高田市的海滨发展为度假胜地和退休养老胜地，以吸引更多富裕的日本老年居民。
在2月份赢得选举后，他就开始忙于准备市政预算，礼节性地拜会了当地的达官显贵。他知道自己陪伴妻子的时间不多，但总觉得以后会有时间的。
在灾难发生后，刀羽太的市长日程暂时被放在了一边。最初几天，他只能努力让自己保持平静。他不知道他的妻子在哪里，但是，考虑到此次灾难带来的破坏程度，以及成百上千位被埋在瓦砾堆下的失踪人员，他不能去寻找自己的妻子。
在重重残骸物的阻隔下，他无法靠近自己的家，而且有政府的搜救队在对这个地区进行地毯式搜索。
在供电中断、救济品严重匮乏以及成千上万的灾民急需救助的情况下，这位元市长决定把精力集中在他所能做的事情上：帮助幸存者。
刀羽太请求他的朋友们制作尽可能多的饭团并分发出去。他要求士兵清理道路，这样更多的救灾物资就可以被运送进来。几周后回想起来，他并不能确定有时候自己在做什么，大部分回忆是一片模糊。
在灾难发生一周后，食品和饮用水开始更加定期地运抵当地，还有军队帮助分发。但是，对牙刷和纸尿裤这些基本生活用品的需求仍然得不到满足。
当时，刀羽太说，任何关于恢复该市渔业或其他重建工作的想法看起来都遥不可及。燃眉之急是获得汽油，以及确保老年人有足够的药品。
为了使政府官员相信他需要更多的説明，刀羽太邀请东京的一位议员在该市的一个紧急疏散中心过夜。这位议员开始抱怨国家的救援工作进展缓慢。当刀羽太提出邀请日本首相在灾难发生三周后访问陆前高田市时，这位议员考虑了一下，说道，“现在，他会来的。”
随着日子的推移，一套新的工作程式开始形成。每天下午，刀羽太都会心情沉重地就该市的最新伤亡资料与记者召开简短的新闻发布会，更新已经找到遗体的遇难者名单。他没有太多的时间去想他的妻子，甚至孩子，仅仅是有时会和他们通个电话。
市政府的幸存人员在一所学校的厨房里成立了指挥部，征用了一些电脑来办公。消防和员警部门的临时驻地则设在停车场一带。由于没有自来水，就在后面挖掘了一条沟渠作为公共厕所。
刀羽太不停地给县级官员打电话，敦促他们开始建设临时房屋，这一点对于防止居民流失至关重要。日本首相菅直人(Naoto Kan)一度要求刀羽太也要做好准备，暂时将居民转移到受灾程度较轻的内陆城市，但是刀羽太拒绝了这个要求。
刀羽太说，“我们有联系非常紧密的社区。我们需要把人聚集在一起。”
3月26日，建设活动终于开始了，这使陆前高田市成为最先开始建造临时房屋的城市之一。一大群建筑工人将首批带有室内抽水马桶和取暖装置的36间活动板房组装在一起，很快就竖立在作为紧急避难所的一所中学门前。有1,000多人参加了市政府组织的抽签，以决定房屋的归属。那些幸运的极少数中签者可以在4月10日搬进这些活动板房。
刀羽太还取得了其他一些小小的胜利：在和当地一家制衣厂的老板会晤后，他获得了该厂捐赠的一批女士内衣，这正是暂住在避难所内的女士们所急需的东西。
当紧急救助的急迫性开始下降后，陆前高田市面临的无比艰难的挑战就变得显而易见了。
该市的桥梁、道路和铁路网都被黑浪破坏或损毁。市区电网被摧毁。一家在10年前耗资约2亿美元建造的污水处理厂消失得无影无踪。耗费巨资修建的宽大的海啸防护墙曾经保护过这座城市，但现在已经沦为废墟。在防护墙得到重建之前，可能要采取其他替代措施来保护这座城市与海平面齐平的地区了。
存放在市政厅的几乎所有档资料都被毁坏。合同、设计图和最近的缴税凭证都被冲走了。官员们不得不根据从游客手册上撕下来的地图评估损失，修理城市道路和桥梁。
一些市政建筑（包括市政厅、一所消防局和一个运动中心）依然挺立不倒，但也被严重损坏，必须予以拆除。刀羽太正在努力筹集爆破所需的资金。他说，如果由市政府自己来出这笔钱，那么就没有任何余钱用来建造新设施了。
自1970年以来，陆前高田市的人口一直在不断缩减，超过三分之一的市民是65岁以上的老人，而整个日本的老年人比例为20%。过去，该市为了吸引更多游客而兴建了一些项目，这笔支出所带来的债务负担将使重建计划受到限制。被此次海啸冲毁的一座贝壳博物馆就是此类项目之一。
当地官员还没有开始计算总的损失。虽然东京方面可能会帮助筹集重建资金，但资金到位的具体时间和具体金额还不得而知。
重建需要创新精神。一个周六的下午，刀羽太一边用手指梳理着日渐稀疏的头发一边说道，“我们需要采取一些激烈的举措。”过度的劳累使他的面孔看起来无精打采。
他说，一个选择是把市区周围一座高山的山顶推平，以建造更多的山顶住宅区，然后用多下来的泥土把整个市区的海拔高度提升60英尺。但现在还不知道由谁来付这笔钱。
刀羽太早些时为陆前高田市设定的发展旅游业的宏伟计划看起来是更加不可能实现了。矗立在白色沙滩边的数万棵松树曾使陆前高田市成为旅游胜地，但现在都被海啸冲毁了，只剩下了孤零零的一棵。
在劝说居民留下的过程中，这位市长找到了一些同盟者，现年35岁的佐佐木隆(Takashi Sasaki)就是其中之一。佐佐木隆在几年前离开陆前高田市，到东京找了份电脑系统工程师的工作。但是，和大部分同伴不一样的是，他于去年返回家乡，帮助他父亲经营一个家族印刷企业。
3月11日，佐佐木隆用他的数码相机将海啸视频上传到互联网。当他看到海浪如此可怕之后，就和父亲松尾(Matsuo)跑进了市政厅。然后，他们和市长一起在市政厅的顶楼度过了一夜。
佐佐木隆的母亲、姨母和祖母都遇难了。佐佐木隆称，尽管搜寻了好几天，但他没能找到他家的房屋和家族印刷厂留下的任何痕迹。
佐佐木隆称，尽管失去了一切，他还是决定留在这座城市，并参与重建。
在海啸发生一个月后，刀羽太的努力终于取得了明显的成果，因为有越来越多的市民在他的带领下开始恢复正常的生活。上周，这座小城重新开设了第一家派出所，这种小型员警站是大多数日本社区必须配备的机构。
岩手银行(Bank of Iwate)在附近的一个拖车上开设了一家临时分行，每天营业四个小时。在街道拐角处的一个预制棚里，该市的商会开设了一个办公室，以帮助当地企业。
然而，在这座城市地势较低的盆地，仍然有数量惊人的工作要做。一些碎石堆已经被移开，以便为汽车和运送土方的设备开辟道路。但是，陆前高田市的大部分地方看起来还是像一个巨大的垃圾填埋场。
4月5日，这位市长接到了一个能让他把所有的一切都抛诸脑后的电话。停尸所里有一具遗体很像他的妻子久美，此前一天正是久美的39岁生日。这位女士的遗体是在离他们家约2,000英尺的高地被发现的。
接到电话后的几个小时，刀羽太一直没有勇气离开办公室。最后，他终于来到了停尸所。遗体已经被严重损坏，但确实是久美。
他不知道该如何把这个消息告诉他的两个儿子，他不愿意让他们看到这个样子的母亲，不希望他们以这种方式来记住他们的母亲。他说，“对他们来说，她就像是一位朋友。由于我总是很忙，他们有问题的时候总是跑去找他们的母亲。”
站在妻子的遗体前，他为自己未能去找她而向她道歉。他告诉她，作为市长所肩负的责任使他不能去找她
事后，刀羽太说，“每当我想到这一点时，真的会质疑自己到底是一个什么样的人。”
Gordon Fairclough / Daisuke Wakabayashi
（本文版权归道琼斯公司所有，未经许可不得翻译或转载。）
http://cn.wsj.com/gb/20110413/bas085401.asp
Minutes before a violent earthquake convulsed City Hall, Futoshi Toba was enjoying a quiet Friday afternoon after a month of nearly nonstop work since becoming mayor of this small coastal city.
He called his wife, Kumi, at 2:40 p.m., March 11, to suggest they take their two young sons to a barbecue place for dinner. She promised that she'd email him soon to let him know.
The conversation wasn't much, but fate doesn't always allow for eloquence.
At 2:46, tremors from the magnitude-9 earthquake about 60 miles offshore convulsed Rikuzentakata, knocking out electricity and phones. Soon afterwards, a wall of black water more than 40 feet high smashed through the 20-foot high seawall and poured into the heart of the city.
Mr. Toba and dozens of local residents scrambled up the stairs to the roof of the four-story City Hall, a steel-reinforced concrete building downtown. The tsunami sent water surging as high as the building's top floor.
Trucks and buses were tossed end over end. Houses, pulled loose from their foundations, floated toward the sea, the people inside screaming for help.
'When I looked back in the direction of my home, I just saw all the houses being crushed,' Mr. Toba said. 'The sound of the wood splintering was so loud.'
Mr. Toba's sons, Taiga, 12, and Kanato, 10, were at a hilltop school, and escaped the tsunami. But his wife was at home, closer to sea level, as she usually was during the day.
'I considered just ignoring everyone, hopping in my car, and rushing to get her. But I really couldn't do that,' he said, explaining that his duties as mayor required him to lead his colleagues to safety. 'I was thinking the whole time: 'I hope she was able to get away.'' By the time the waves finally started to recede, Rikuzentakata had been reduced to a tangle of smashed cars, shattered wood and twisted steel. The banks were washed away. Gas stations, gone. Grocery stores, gone. Hospital, gone.
More than 2,300 people -- a tenth of the population here -- were dead or missing.
A month later, Mr. Toba finds himself in a role of bewildering complexity and responsibility, as Japan struggles to recover from the worst natural disaster of its modern history and its leaders debate how -- and even whether -- to rebuild a part of the country that was already in steep decline. The decisions Mr. Toba and other local politicians make now may well determine whether the hard-hit areas on the northeast coast survive and thrive, or never recover.
After past disasters -- the 1995 earthquake that wrecked the port city of Kobe and the 1923 quake that killed more than 100,000 around Tokyo -- Japan rebuilt quickly. But the situation in Rikuzentakata and other communities along the craggy shoreline here is far different.
The region had been in trouble long before the disaster: Many young people had gone in search of a better life elsewhere, leaving behind an aging population and dying industries. Pessimists question the economic logic of investing to rebuild its shrinking towns and cities.
'It's hard to be a leader in a situation like this,' the 46-year-old Mr. Toba said one recent Saturday afternoon, as he worked from a temporary command post in the office of the city schools' central kitchen. 'We are going to have to start again from scratch.'
Dressed in borrowed clothes -- a city-worker uniform with a beige windbreaker, matching pants and a pair of black Reebok sneakers -- Mr. Toba can often be found pacing the pavement outside his command center, smoking a dwindling supply of Marlboro Ultralights and cajoling national and regional officials over a mobile phone that hangs from a strap around his neck.
His successes so far -- like scrounging enough fuel to keep some of Rikuzentakata's remaining cars running a few days more, or securing supplies for the 10,000 citizens who remain homeless here -- in some ways only underscore the daunting scale of the task ahead.
Mr. Toba's preoccupation with the town's misery can't completely obliterate what has happened to his own life with Kumi and Taiga and Kanato. The boys are staying with Mr. Toba's uncle. The mayor sees them when he can, but most nights he sleeps on the floor beside his desk in the makeshift command center.
He hasn't returned to his house downtown, either, aside from a quick glimpse soon after the disaster. He could only get close enough to make out that its shell was still standing, but the roof of another home had come to rest atop it.
Inside, his home is filled with painful reminders: A mud-covered jacket and some ties hang in a first-floor closet. The floor is littered with photos, including pictures of a younger Mr. Toba in a gray suit with Kumi on their wedding day. In another mud-stained picture, his wife -- in a white T-shirt with turquoise sleeves and black shoulder-length hair -- wraps her arms around one of the children and laughs.
For weeks, Mr. Toba had been too busy to visit the morgue to see if Kumi was there. He also dreaded what he might find.
'As a husband, I'd like to go search for my wife, but I need to lead the way on the recovery effort,' the mayor said late last month. 'Many people here are in the same situation.'
Rikuzentakata has been inhabited for 1,000 years. Spread out across a plain surrounded by mountains running down to the sea, it drew fame for its scallops, sea urchins and a special breed of oysters that sold for as much as $5 a piece in Tokyo restaurants. A wooded area with pine trees along its sandy beach was once declared by the government to be one of Japan's 100 most beautiful sights.
The city also has a history of tsunamis. One touched off in 1960 by an earthquake in Chile killed eight people and inundated parts of the city near the beach.
But there had never been anything remotely like the waves that struck on March 11.
City officials who had rushed out to warn residents were washed away. One of the mayor's advisers tried carrying an elderly woman, but quickly realized he wouldn't be able to run fast enough with her on his back. He left her behind on a second-floor stair landing in City Hall. 'Sorry grandma,' he said, before dashing up to the roof. He never saw her again.
The tsunami blew out the rear wall of a downtown sports center that had been designated as an emergency refuge, drowning nearly all of the dozens of people who sought shelter there.
Two firemen clung to a watch tower atop a fire station. Helicopters eventually rescued the men and pulled some other survivors to safety from downtown rooftops before darkness fell. Exploding gas cylinders sent up plumes of flame.
At around 7 p.m., it started to snow. Some survivors gathered up debris and started a bonfire for warmth and to provide a beacon for any rescuers. The mayor and his aides huddled around a radio, listening to news bulletins.
Aftershocks continued through the night, and roiling waves swept in and out. Mr. Toba said he feared the entire building would collapse. 'We were just praying for daylight.'
At dawn, Rikuzentakata began to assess the staggering human toll. It was one of the worst-hit Japanese cities. Of its roughly 23,000 inhabitants, more than 1,100 are confirmed dead. Nearly 1,200 are missing and presumed killed. Hundreds of bodies in the temporary morgue set up in a gymnasium remain unidentified.
The police chief, two members of the city council and the three top school officials perished in the tsunami. One-third of city workers have died.
Many of the survivors are questioning whether to stay. Akira Suto, a 55-year-old construction worker, said he can't forget the wall of icy ocean water as it pitched him head over heels, breaking his grip on his 82-year-old mother as the pair ran from their home, trying to flee.
'It's over,' his mother gasped, before she was dragged away by the waves, he said. Her body still hasn't been recovered.
Mr. Suto, who is staying with his wife and two children at an emergency shelter in a school gym, said he'd like to remain in Rikuzentakata. 'In reality, I don't know if it will be possible,' he said.
Even pillars of the business community are wavering.
Yasuhiko Konno, president of the Suisen sake brewery that was one of Rikuzentakata's biggest employers, said he hasn't decided whether to rebuild his company's factory on the downtown site. Waves punched holes in the brewery and scattered its giant green metal sake tanks as far as three miles away.
'We are here to make a profit, and I have to wonder if Rikuzentakata can come back from this level of damage,' said Mr. Konno, a 64-year-old native of the city. 'It doesn't make sense to build a sake factory with nothing else around.'
Mayor Toba sees it as an essential part of his job to persuade people to stay. He hopes to wheedle enough support from the national and prefecture governments to show progress rebuilding before leading citizens move away.
He has been trying to persuade civil servants set to retire this year to delay stepping down to ensure he has enough manpower to rebuild.
'The city might be smaller than it was before,' Mr. Toba said. His wife was missing, but his sons were alive, and he wanted to be sure Rikuzentakata would still be there when they got older.
'When I see the faces of my sons, I know I just have to keep going,' he said. 'This is my destiny, and I just have to do what needs to be done.'
None of this is what Mr. Toba had in mind when he came to Rikuzentakata 18 years ago.
(MORE TO FOLLOW) Dow Jones Newswires
April 08, 2011 22:30 ET (02:30 GMT)
WSJ(4/9) Fateful Choice On A Day Of Disaster -2-
Born near Tokyo, he moved to the coastal community when he was 28. Tough economic times had made it hard for him to earn a living as a computer programmer in the capital. He chose Rikuzentakata because it was his father's birthplace and home, and he said he quickly came to love its natural beauty and laid-back feeling.
When he first arrived in town, he found work at a local poultry-processing company. It was there that he met Kumi, a native of another small city up the coast.
She was seven years his junior, with delicate features and dark black hair, and looked younger than her age. When they were picking out engagement rings in a jewelry store, Mr. Toba recalled, a clerk asked if he was shopping for his daughter.
'Even now, she looks like she's in her 20s,' he said.
She collected vintage American Fire-King glassware and enjoyed making handicrafts, Mr. Toba recalled. She made leather trinkets with embossed designs to hang on cell phones, which she sold at temporary shops with her friends.
She never questioned her husband's decision to become a politician -- though she didn't really like it. 'She put up with it,' he said.
It wasn't really even Mr. Toba's idea, he said. His father was in politics, and when a city council election came up several years ago, his father helped organize efforts to draft him. He came home one day and there were about '150 old folks from the neighborhood who turned to me and started clapping -- I didn't know what was going on.'
The elder Mr. Toba, who died about a decade ago, promised his son he wouldn't need to do much, just put up some posters. But before he knew it, the son was campaigning and talking to crowds.
Once he was on the city council, he spent his free time walking through neighborhoods, chatting with people and looking after their needs.
He soon realized, though, that as long as he was just another council member, his ability to get things done was limited. 'I always thought that one day, even if it's being just a village head, I wanted to be able to shape a town in the way I thought best,' he said.
For years, he served as deputy mayor. Then the mayor became ill and decided not to run again. When Mr. Toba told his wife he wanted the job, 'she just said, 'OK, I understand.''
Mr. Toba's campaign called for reducing the city's debt after years of heavy spending. He hoped to turn Rikuzentakata's beachfront into a popular resort and retirement area to attract more of Japan's affluent older residents.
After his victory in February, he got busy preparing the city budget and making courtesy calls on local dignitaries. He wasn't spending much time his wife, he knew. But there would be time for that later.
Mr. Toba's mayoral agenda went by the wayside when the disaster struck. In the first few days, he just tried to stay calm. He didn't know where his wife was, but given the scale of the destruction -- and the hundreds of missing people buried beneath the rubble -- he couldn't do much about it.
So much wreckage blocked his home that he couldn't get near it, and government search-and-rescue teams were combing the area.
There was no electricity, few relief supplies. With thousands of people in desperate need, the mayor decided to focus on what he could do: Help survivors.
Mayor Toba pleaded with friends to make as many rice balls as possible and give them out. He asked soldiers to clear roads so more supplies could get in. Looking back several weeks later, he's not sure what he did some of the time: Much of it was a blur.
A week after the disaster, food and water began arriving more regularly along with troops to distribute aid. But basic needs, for such things as toothbrushes and diapers, still weren't being met.
Any talk of reviving the city's fishing industry or other rebuilding efforts was 'far, far off,' Mr. Toba said, a week after the disaster. The most pressing needs were getting gasoline and making sure the elderly had enough medicine.
To persuade government officials that he needed more help, Mr. Toba invited lawmakers from Tokyo to spend the night in one of the city's emergency evacuation centers. He complained about how slow national relief efforts were. When asked about a visit by the prime minister to Rikuzentakata three weeks after the disaster, he rolled his eyes and said: 'Now, he comes.'
As the days passed, a routine set in. Every afternoon, Mr. Toba somberly briefed reporters on the city's latest casualty numbers, and handed out updated lists of dead citizens whose bodies had been discovered. There wasn't much time to think about his wife, or even his kids, though he spoke to the boys sometimes on the phone.
The surviving members of his administration set up their command post in a school kitchen using commandeered computers. Temporary quarters for the fire and police departments were set up across the parking lot. Since there was no running water, a trench latrine was dug out back.
Mayor Toba burned up the phones calling and pressuring prefectural officials to begin construction of temporary homes -- critical to keeping citizens from drifting away. At one point, Prime Minister Naoto Kan told Mr. Toba he might as well plan to temporarily move his people to less damaged cities inland -- but Mr. Toba refused.
'We have very tight-knit communities. We need to keep people together,' Mr. Toba said.
On March 26, construction finally began, making Rikuzentakata one of the first cities to start building temporary homes. The first 36 modular apartments with indoor plumbing and heating were hammered together by an army of construction workers and went up quickly in front of a middle school that served as an emergency shelter. More than 1,000 people entered the city lottery to receive a home.
Mr. Toba scored other small victories: After he met with the owner of a local clothing-manufacturing firm, the town received a donation of women's underwear, desperately needed by women living in emergency shelters.
As the immediate tasks of emergency assistance started to fade, the scale of challenges facing Rikuzentakata became painfully apparent.
Bridges, roadways and the city's rail connection were damaged or destroyed by the black waves. The power grid downtown was wiped out. A waste-water treatment plant -- built a decade ago for about $200 million -- disappeared without a trace. The massive, and expensive, tsunami defense wall that once shielded the city was reduced to ruins. It will likely have to be replaced to protect the sea-level sections of the city before they can be rebuilt.
Nearly all of the city's paper records, stored in City Hall, were destroyed. Contracts, blueprints and recent city-tax payments were all swept away. Officials have to rely on maps ripped from tourist brochures as they assess damage and repair city roads and bridges.
Some city-owned buildings -- including City Hall, a fire station and a sports center -- remain standing, but are so badly damaged that they will have to be torn down. Mr. Toba is trying to find money for the demolition. If the city has to pay itself, there won't be any money left to build new facilities, he said.
Rikuzentakata's population had already been shrinking steadily since 1970, and more than a third of the city's residents are over 65 years old, compared with about 20% in Japan as a whole. Any reconstruction plans will be limited by debts from past spending on schemes to attract more tourists. One such project, a seashell museum, was demolished by the tsunami.
Local officials haven't begun to calculate the total cost of the damage. And while it seems likely that Tokyo will help foot the bill for reconstruction, the timing and amount of any money remain distressingly unclear.
Rebuilding will take creativity. 'We will need to do something drastic,' Mr. Toba said one Saturday afternoon, running his fingers through his thinning hair, his face sagging with exhaustion.
One option, he said, would be to bulldoze the top of one of the mountains that ring the downtown to create more hilltop residential areas, and then use the extra earth to raise the level of the city center by about 60 feet. But it's unclear who would pay for that.
Mr. Toba's earlier big idea for Rikuzentakata -- tourism -- seems especially unlikely. The tens of thousands of pine trees that once lined Rikuzentakata's white sandy beach, making it a tourist destination, were destroyed by the tsunami. Only one remains standing.
In his quest to get residents to stay, the mayor has found some allies. One is 35-year-old Takashi Sasaki, who abandoned Rikuzentakata years ago to work in Tokyo as a computer-systems engineer. Unlike most of his peers, he decided to return home last year and help his father run a family printing business.
On March 11, Mr. Sasaki was using his digital camera to stream video of the tsunami to the Internet. When he saw the size of the waves, he and his father, Matsuo, raced into City Hall, where they spent the night on the upper floors along with the mayor.
Mr. Sasaki's mother, aunt and grandmother died. Despite days of searching, Mr. Sasaki said he hasn't found any trace of his home or the family print shop.
Even though they lost everything, Mr. Sasaki said he's committed to staying in the city. 'I want to stay here and rebuild,' he said.
A month after the tsunami, the fruits of Mr. Toba's efforts are evident, as a growing number of citizens follow his lead, picking up the pieces of their lives. Last week, the town reopened its first koban, a small neighborhood police station, which is a staple of most Japanese communities.
(MORE TO FOLLOW) Dow Jones Newswires
April 08, 2011 22:30 ET (02:30 GMT)
WSJ(4/9) Fateful Choice On A Day Of Disaster -3-
Nearby, the Bank of Iwate has opened a temporary branch in a trailer for four hours a day. Around the corner, in a prefabricated shed, the city's Chamber of Commerce has opened an office to help local businesses. The lucky few who won a slot in Rikuzentakata's temporary homes can move in on Sunday.
In the town's lower basin, though, a staggering amount of work remains. Mounds of rubble have been plowed aside to create roads for cars and earth-moving equipment. But much of Rikuzentakata still resembles a massive landfill.
On Tuesday, the mayor got a call that would push all that into the background. There was a body in the morgue that resembled his wife, whose 39th birthday had been the day before. The woman's body had been found about 2,000 feet uphill from their home.
For several hours, Mr. Toba couldn't get away from the office. At last, he made his way down to the morgue. The body was badly damaged. But it was Kumi.
He debated what to tell his sons, and thought he didn't want to let them see her like that. It wasn't how he wanted them to remember their mother. 'She was like a friend to them,' he said. 'Since I was always so busy, they always ran to their mother.'
Standing before her body, he apologized to his wife for not coming to find her. His responsibilities as mayor, he told her, kept him away.
'When I think about that,' Mr. Toba said afterward, 'it really makes me question what kind of human being I am.'
Gordon Fairclough / Daisuke Wakabayashi
2011年3月28日星期一
films
国王的演讲（King's Speech）
我知女人心，刘德华、巩俐
伦敦大道（London Boulevard(2010)）
女巫季节（Season of the Witch(2011)）
将爱情进行到底，2011
围困城堡（La Citadelle assiégée），2006
打擂台，2010
单身男女(Don't break my heart，高圆圆、吴彦祖、古天乐)，2011
海洋，2009
Faster（极速复仇，巨石强森），2010
一代骄马，Secretariat，2010
杀手们，The Killers，2010
早间主播，Morning Glory（哈里森·福特等），2010
暗杀令；The Hit List，2010
危情三日，2010
to be
加勒比海盗：惊涛怪浪
里约大冒险
功夫熊猫2
最爱
变形金刚3
速度与激情5
雷神
战国
关云长
unknown
武侠
雪花秘扇
我知女人心，刘德华、巩俐
伦敦大道（London Boulevard(2010)）
女巫季节（Season of the Witch(2011)）
将爱情进行到底，2011
围困城堡（La Citadelle assiégée），2006
打擂台，2010
单身男女(Don't break my heart，高圆圆、吴彦祖、古天乐)，2011
海洋，2009
Faster（极速复仇，巨石强森），2010
一代骄马，Secretariat，2010
杀手们，The Killers，2010
早间主播，Morning Glory（哈里森·福特等），2010
暗杀令；The Hit List，2010
危情三日，2010
to be
加勒比海盗：惊涛怪浪
里约大冒险
功夫熊猫2
最爱
变形金刚3
速度与激情5
雷神
战国
关云长
unknown
武侠
雪花秘扇
2011年3月11日星期五
2011年2月11日星期五
2011年1月27日星期四
2011年1月17日星期一
激进主义与保守主义的平衡术——格兰仕
《21世纪》：公司总部一直在顺德，这对人才引进有没有影响？有没有考虑将总部搬迁到中心城市？
梁昭贤：世界500强里很多公司，总部一直都是在其发家的地方，由此看来，不一定要将公司总部搬迁到中心城市、大城市。地理位置的确是个问题，但如果企业的其他吸引力够强大，是可以弥补地理位置的劣势的。如果格兰仕将总部放到上海，能招到的高层次人才的确会多很多，但在上海，人才的流动性会很大，而在顺德，高层次人才的绝对数没有上海多，但人才的流动性也没有上海大。格兰仕的总部还是要立足广东，面向世界。
当然，研发人才一定要全球化、国际化，此外，研发不能只在实验室，要贴近市场、贴近消费者，总部的研发中心只是一种统筹，主要是制定大的战略方向，打造好的机制，让研发人员愿意到市场一线去。
《21世纪》：问题是如何才能吸引到人才？
梁昭贤：好的管理者，应该是营造出一种人才磁场，要成为最吸引人才的磁铁。能否成为这样的磁铁，一是看企业家的资本实力、有无思想、追求、能力如何、胸怀是否够大；二看利益分配方式，是否有共享机制；三看企业家的组织力，是否可以带团队。
http://www.21cbh.com/HTML/2011-1-10/zMMDAwMDIxNTEzMQ.html
梁昭贤：世界500强里很多公司，总部一直都是在其发家的地方，由此看来，不一定要将公司总部搬迁到中心城市、大城市。地理位置的确是个问题，但如果企业的其他吸引力够强大，是可以弥补地理位置的劣势的。如果格兰仕将总部放到上海，能招到的高层次人才的确会多很多，但在上海，人才的流动性会很大，而在顺德，高层次人才的绝对数没有上海多，但人才的流动性也没有上海大。格兰仕的总部还是要立足广东，面向世界。
当然，研发人才一定要全球化、国际化，此外，研发不能只在实验室，要贴近市场、贴近消费者，总部的研发中心只是一种统筹，主要是制定大的战略方向，打造好的机制，让研发人员愿意到市场一线去。
《21世纪》：问题是如何才能吸引到人才？
梁昭贤：好的管理者，应该是营造出一种人才磁场，要成为最吸引人才的磁铁。能否成为这样的磁铁，一是看企业家的资本实力、有无思想、追求、能力如何、胸怀是否够大；二看利益分配方式，是否有共享机制；三看企业家的组织力，是否可以带团队。
http://www.21cbh.com/HTML/2011-1-10/zMMDAwMDIxNTEzMQ.html
2011年1月14日星期五
杭州下沙百联outlet
coach wallet, black, ￥1,750
san-kelloff, business bag, ￥740
callisto, suits, ￥2,490+1,210=￥3,700×30%=￥1,110
金数码：apple macbook pro
brooks brothers, down-filled coat, ￥1,120+￥1,750
adidas basketball boots, ￥590
wilson badminton racket ￥200
leo
total: ￥7,260
san-kelloff, business bag, ￥740
callisto, suits, ￥2,490+1,210=￥3,700×30%=￥1,110
金数码：apple macbook pro
brooks brothers, down-filled coat, ￥1,120+￥1,750
adidas basketball boots, ￥590
wilson badminton racket ￥200
leo
total: ￥7,260
2011年1月12日星期三
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