April 4, 2014
University of Wisconsin-Madison

2014年4月4日，威斯康星大学麦迪逊分校

Space, Place, and Nature: The Farewell Lecture

Yi-Fu Tuan

段义孚告别演说：空间、地方与自然

段义孚

[Dr. Tuan is no longer writing regular Dear Colleague letters. This is a special essay written for his Farewell Lecture on April 4, 2014 and given in person at Science Hall, UW-Madison.]

段博士不再写常规的“ 亲爱的同事”信。。这是他为2014年4月4日在威斯康辛大学麦迪逊分校科学厅的告别演讲而写的一篇特别文章。

If I have to name a contribution I made to this department, it is the coffee-hour lecture series [the Yi-Fu Tuan Lecture]. Inspired by graduate students’ Beer-and-Loafing talks, I thought to initiate something similar for the geography faculty, and go from there to talents in the College, the University, and the world. An unforeseen consequence of my effort is that the series’s initiator, me, began to abuse it. Over the years, I must have spoken a dozen times, and each time I intimated that it would be my last, only to renege to the consternation of my long-suffering colleagues. This time, however, would be different. How so? What’s the guarantee? Well, if nothing else, the debilities of age will effectively douse future temptations. But you might ask, why even this time, why not just go “gentle into that good night” as one poet put it? My answer is, given my theatrical bent, I prefer the curtain to come down on my career in front of colleagues and students than to shuffle off, alone, into the shadows. I am therefore grateful to Holly and Stephen, co-chairs of our lecture committee, for giving me a chance to sound off for the last time and so provide me with a sense of closure.

如果我必须说出我对该部门所做的贡献，那就是咖啡时间讲座系列[段义孚讲座]。在研究生的啤酒与闲话讲座的启发下，我想到了为地理学院发起类似的尝试，然后从那里选拔到学院，大学和世界各地的人才。我的努力有一个无法预料的后果，那就是该系列的发起人我开始滥用它。这么多年来，我肯定说过十几次，每一次我都暗示这将是我的最后一次，结果却食言了，令我长期受苦的同事们惊愕不已。然而，这一次就不同了。怎么会这样？保证是什么？好吧，如果没有别的，年龄的衰弱将有效地浇灭（/抑制）未来的诱惑。但你可能会问，为什么即使在这个时候，为什么不像一位诗人所说的那样，“温柔地走进那个美好的夜晚”呢?我的回答是，考虑到我的戏剧性，我宁愿在同事和学生面前落下帷幕，而不是独自一人走到阴影中。因此，我要感谢我们演讲委员会的联合主席Holly和Stephen，给我最后一次发言的机会，让我有一个结束的感觉。

Space and Place  空间和地方

“Space, Place, and Nature” are topics that I have explored for almost a-half century. What follows is one more look at them. As you will see, although in the interest of clarity I speak in declarative sentences and so may sound confident, I do not feel it and least of all in regard to “nature,” which is as elusive to my understanding now as it did when I first encountered it.

“空间，地点和自然”是我研究了近半个世纪的主题。 接下来是对它们的另一种观察。正如你们将看到的，虽然为了清晰起见，我用陈述式的句子说话，也许听起来很自信，但我对“自然”并没有感觉，尤其是对“自然”，它对我现在的理解就像我第一次遇到它时一样难以捉摸。

A decade ago, I gave a talk on “space and place” to eleven- and twelve-year olds at the Spring Harbor Middle School. I said something like this. “Look out of the window and you will see open space. Open space suggests adventure but it also entails risk: for example, the boat on Lake Mendota where some of your classmates are may sink.” Students nodded in agreement. I continued, “By contrast, a place like this classroom is safe and familiar. However, for that reason it can be boring.” This time they not only nodded but shouted, “Yes, this class is boring!” I was stunned and didn’t have the wit to say, “Maybe so. Yet it is precisely in this familiar, unexciting place that you can engage in adventures of the mind and learn something about ‘space and place.’ Your friends on Lake Mendota, distracted by wind, water, and sun, cannot.”

十年前，我在Spring Harbor中学向11岁和12岁的孩子讲了“空间和地方”。我说过这样的话。“往窗外看，你会看到空地。开放的空间意味着冒险，但也蕴含着风险：例如，你的一些同学所在的门多塔湖上的船可能会沉没。”学生们点头表示同意。我接着说，“相比之下，像这样的教室是安全和熟悉的。然而，由于这个原因，它可能会很无聊。”这一次，他们不仅点了点头，而且喊道：“是的，这堂课很无聊！”我惊呆了，没有机智地说，“也许是这样。然而，正是在这个熟悉、乏味的地方，你可以进行心灵的冒险，学习一些关于“空间和地方”的东西。“你在门多塔湖上的朋友，被风、水和阳光分散了注意力，是无法做到的。”

I stopped at this point, thinking that pre-teen students are not ready to follow me further. With older students, I might go on to say that since the human individual is both body and mind, he can also be said to be both “place” and “space.”  His body, tied by his senses to the environment, is place; his mind, freed from such sensory ties, is space. Given his roaming mind, a human being can therefore seldom be fully where he is. Right now, for example, you are in this classroom, which is your place, and you are here to listen to me. But be honest. Is it really so? Your body is indeed here. Your mind, however, may well be elsewhere. I am willing to bet that quite a few students in this room have already left it for pizza or sex in another part of town.

这时我停了下来，想着十几岁的学生还没有准备好进一步跟着我/还没有准备好跟我走得更远。对于年纪较大的学生，我可能会说，由于人类个体既是身体也是精神/心灵，所以他也可以说是“地方”和“空间。”他的身体，被他的感官与环境联系在一起，就是地方（place）;他的思想，从这些感官的束缚中解脱出来，就是空间（space）。因此，一个人的思想是漫游的，他很少能完全地呆在他所处的地方。比如现在，你们在教室里，这是你们的地盘（place），你们在这里听我说话。但是要诚实。真是这样吗?你的身体确实在这里。然而，你的思想很可能在别处。我敢打赌，这个房间里有不少学生已经离开这里去城里的另一个地方吃披萨或做爱了。

Given this knack of being both here and there, present and absent, what are the consequences? One is a certain detachment from the person one is with and another is a certain detachment from the place one is at. In these respects, humans differ from other animals whose mind, being less able to wander, stays focused on where they happen to be. Animals are, in this sense, bound to their immediate environment. Humans, with their roaming mind, are less so bound. Indeed, this unique power to be imaginatively elsewhere should serve as the necessary backdrop against which are conducted all deliberations on the significance of place in human experience.

鉴于这种考虑到这种既在这里又在那里，既在场又不在场的诀窍，后果是什么？一种是对与自己在一起的人的某种超然，另一种是对自己所处的地方的某种超然。在这些方面，人类不同于其他动物。其他动物的思维不太容易走神，但会始终专注于自己碰巧在的地方。从这个意义上说，动物与它们所处的直接环境息息相关。而思维漫游的人类则不那么受约束。事实上，这种在其他地方富有想象力的独特力量，应该成为一个必要的背景，在这个背景下，所有关于人类经验中地位重要性的讨论都是在这个背景下进行的/的确，这种可以在其他地方发挥想象力的独特力量应该作为对人类经验中地位的重要性进行所有审议的必要背景/确实，这种在其他地方具有想象力的独特力量应作为必要的背景，所有讨论都应以此为背景，探讨人类经验中的地位的重要性。。。

The roaming mind aside, distance is of course a barrier—one that both as a fact on the ground and as a state of mind affects human ties and intimacies. Just how this is so requires that something be said first about what the words “distant” and “far away” meant to people who lived in the past; in particular, some two hundred years ago, prior to the development of rapid transportation and communication. In a poem called “The Solitary Reaper,” written in 1805, Wordsworth identifies two places that were thought to be so widely separated that it cannot help but evoke a haunting sense of isolation. The poet depicts a Highland Lass reaping and singing alone such that:

No Nightingale did ever chaunt
More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers in some shady haunt,
Among Arabian sands:
A voice so thrilling ne’er was heard
In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides.

撇开漫游的心灵不谈，距离当然是一个障碍无论是作为地面上的事实，还是作为一种精神状态，都影响着人类的联系和亲密。这就需要我们先说清楚“遥远”（ distant ）”和“远方（ far away ）”两个词对生活在过去的人意味着什么/对生活在过去的人们的意义；特别是大约200年前，在快速交通和通讯发展之前。在1805年写的《孤独的收割者》(The Solitary Reaper)中，华兹华斯(Wordsworth)提到了两个被认为相隔如此之远的地方，这不禁让人产生一种挥之不去的孤独感。诗人描绘了一个高原少女，独自收割，独自歌唱:夜莺从来没有跳过   给疲惫乐队更多的欢迎词  在阴暗的地方游荡，  在阿拉伯沙漠中  一个如此惊心动魄的声音从未被听到过  在布谷鸟的春天，  在遥远的赫布利底群岛  在最遥远的赫布里底群岛

。At one pole, the Arabian Sands and at the other pole, the farthest Hebrides, a distance that would have taken weeks for people to cross by carriage or communicate by mail. Imagine two friends heading toward these opposite extremities in the early nineteenth century. As they shook hands to say goodbye, they knew that they were unlikely to meet again for a long time. Now, imagine the situation today. My friend and I say goodbye. We will be separated by a thousand miles, but so what if, in Google-equipped rooms, I in Arabia and my friend in the Hebrides can continue to chat and even see each other, I in my T-shirt, he in his heavy sweater, thanks to our iPads? As distance no longer matters and as the renewal of contact becomes ever easier, friendship is deprived of the occasion to rise to a level of intensity that depends on the likelihood of prolonged absence. Farewells in the past were burdened by a sense of finality that we now know, if at all, only during a friend’s final departure—his death.

其中一处是阿拉伯沙漠，另一处是最遥远的赫布里底群岛(Hebrides)，这段距离如果人们乘坐马车或通过邮件往来，需要花费数周的时间。想象一下，在十九世纪早期，两个朋友走向了相反的极端。当他们握手道别时，他们知道在很长一段时间内他们不太可能再见面了。现在，想象一下今天的情况。我和我的朋友说再见。我们将相隔千里，但如果在谷歌设备齐全的房间里，我在阿拉伯和我在赫布里底群岛的朋友可以继续聊天甚至见面，我穿着T恤衫，他穿着厚厚的毛衣，多亏了我们的iPad？随着距离不再重要，随着重新建立联系变得越来越容易，友谊被剥夺了上升到一个取决于长期不在的可能性的程度的机会。过去的离别总是背负着一种最后的感觉，我们现在知道，如果有的话，只有在朋友最后的离别——他的死亡时才会有这种感觉。

Other than friendship, what about social relations generally? How were they affected by the collapse of distance? Were they also, like friendship, cooler? I believe the answer to be yes, and I offer the following scenario to support it. At Starbucks café on State Street, I saw three young women walk in, chattering as they did so. They went to the counter, bought lattes, and found a table around which they sat. I like to eavesdrop on the young, and I looked forward to overhearing their conversation. But no such luck, for each held an iPhone in her hand and immediately bent over it to text a friend in another part of town. Their kneecaps touched under the small table but, other than this accidental intimacy, they paid not the slightest heed to one another as flesh-and-blood human beings. Why they bothered to be together in the first place was unclear to me. Also unclear to me was what they could talk about when they left the premise, for having just busily texted friends in other parts of town, they lacked a common ground to restart a conversation among themselves.

除了友谊，一般的社会关系呢?它们是如何受到距离的影响的?他们也像友谊一样酷吗?我相信答案是肯定的，我提供以下场景来支持它。在道特街的星巴克咖啡店，我看见三个年轻女人走了进来，边走边聊着天。他们走到柜台，买了拿铁，找了一张桌子坐下。我喜欢偷听年轻人的谈话，我期待着偷听他们的谈话。但没有这样的运气，每个人手里都拿着一部iPhone，然后马上弯下腰给城里另一个地方的朋友发短信。他们的膝盖骨在小桌子底下碰在一起，但是，除了这种偶然的亲密关系之外，他们根本不把对方当作有血有肉的人来看待。我不清楚他们当初为什么要在一起。我还不清楚的是，当他们离开这里时，他们能说些什么，因为他们刚刚忙着给城里其他地方的朋友发短信，他们之间缺乏一个共同的话题来重新开始交谈。

Social relations in modern society, even if they are not deep, can still be pleasant. The same can be said of our relations with places. Well-to-do people like us willingly hang out at cafés, restaurants, antique shops, art galleries, and museums. Nevertheless, the grip of these places on us is light. Switching allegiance is common. Even our home does not command loyalty. The phenomenon I have just described is a familiar one and we know it to be a consequence of mobility, itself a consequence of economic well-being, backed by a speediness of transportation and communication that has cut down the historic onus of distance. Still, the lightness of our current attachment to place makes us wonder whether it is a serious loss, affecting our mental health and even our moral sense, which calls for strong commitment. Tempting, therefore, it is to think sentimentally of the past when places had a hold on people that was not easily broken. Attachment is, however, a word of ambiguous meaning, whether it is applied to people or place. On the dark side, it is bondage and we are glad to be freed of bondage. On the bright side, it is a mutuality such that people pour affection into a place and that place in turn imparts its qualities to people, making them into the sort of human beings they are.

现代社会中的社会关系即使不深入，也仍然会令人愉快。 我们与地方的关系也可以这样说。 像我们这样的富裕人士愿意在咖啡馆，餐馆，古董店，美术馆和博物馆中闲逛。 尽管如此，这些地方对我们的控制还是很轻松的。 切换忠诚度很常见。 甚至我们的家也没有忠诚度。 我刚才描述的现象是一种熟悉的现象，我们知道这是机动性的结果，其本身是经济福祉的结果，而交通和通讯的迅速发展又减少了距离的历史性负担。 尽管如此，我们目前对地方的依恋的轻度使我们怀疑这是否是一次严重的损失，是否影响了我们的心理健康甚至道德感，因此需要坚定的承诺。 因此，诱人的想法是，在过去的情感笼罩着那些不容易被打破的人们时，它会让人产生一种多情的感觉/这需要坚定的承诺。因此，伤感地想起过去那些不容易被打破的地方对人的控制是很诱人的。然而，依恋是一个含义模糊的词，无论它适用于人还是地方。 在黑暗的一面，这是束缚，我们很高兴摆脱束缚。 在光明的一面，这是一种相互的关系，使人们把感情倾注到一个地方，而这个地方又把它的品质赋予人们，使他们成为他们是什么样的人。

The notion that place is capable of imparting its qualities to people may sound a little fanciful, so let me say, first, something that is merely commonsense, namely, good soil yields good crops, bad soil poor crops, or the merits of a manufacturing place are reflected in its products. Consider the last assertion. What makes a product such as Wisconsin cheese special? If the cheese is indeed special, the answer is likely to be the excellence of the  state’s soil, feed, cows, and processes of manufacturing. Wisconsinites may go a step further and boast that if their cheese is transported to California, there—on the grocer’s counter—will be a hunk of Midwestern wholesomeness. Not only that, they may also find quite acceptable the notion that if a young man born and raised in Wisconsin moves to live in New York, he will be there an oasis of manly virtue in a sea of glitzy sophistication. That place can mold a people’s character is, I believe, widely--if only tacitly--accepted in different parts of the world. Occasionally, the idea is made explicit. An outstanding example is Rupert Brooke’s poem, written during the First World War, called “The Soldier.” It may not be great poetry, but it resonates and is one of the most anthologized poems in the English language. Brooke has the soldier say,

一个地方有能力把它的品质传授给人们，这听起来可能有点异想天开，所以我想说，首先，有一个常识，即好土生好粮，坏土生差粮，或者一个制造业的优点体现在它的产品上。考虑最后一个断言。是什么让威斯康星奶酪这样的产品与众不同?如果这种奶酪真的很特别，答案很可能是该州优良的土壤、饲料、奶牛和生产工艺。威斯康辛人可能会更进一步，夸口说如果他们的奶酪运到加州，杂货商的柜台上会有一大块中西部的健康食品。不仅如此，如果一个在威斯康辛州出生长大的年轻人搬到纽约居住，他将在浮华的世俗化的海洋中成为一个男子气概的绿洲，这种想法也会被他们所接受。这个地方可以塑造一个民族的性格，我相信，这种性格已经被世界各地广泛地——即使只是默认地——接受了。有时，这个想法会被明确地表达出来。一个杰出的例子是鲁伯特布鲁克的诗，写在第一次世界大战期间，名为“士兵”。这也许不是一首伟大的诗歌，但却能引起共鸣，是英语诗歌选集最多的诗歌之一。布鲁克让士兵说，

If I should die, think only this of me; 
     That there’s some corner of a foreign field
That is forever England. There shall be
     In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, and made aware,
                 Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam
            A body of England’s, breathing English air,
                Washed by the rivers, blest by the aura of home.

如果我死了，你对我只能这样想;在某个陌生的角落    那是永远的英格兰。必有  在那肥沃的土地上，隐藏着更丰富的尘土;  英格兰背负，塑造，意识到的一种尘埃，曾经，把她的花朵给爱，把她的路给漫游  英国人呼吸着英国的空气  被河水冲刷，被家的光环祝福。如果我死了，就只想我这个； 那 是永远存在于英国的异域的某个角落。 在那富饶的大地中必隐藏着更多的尘土。 尘土被英格兰带来，塑造并意识到了。尘埃 曾经给了她爱的花朵，漫游 的方式，呼吸着英格兰的空气， 被河水冲刷，被房屋的光环吹起。

This soldier, to be England, has to be shaped by English nature. Is such a poem likely now? What if a British soldier were born in Reading, grew up in Glasgow, spent summers in France, and earned a bachelor’s degree in an American college? If he should die fighting in Afghanistan, can a poet say of him that he is rich British dust concealed in the dust of a foreign land? Surely not. The British soldier has the makings of a cosmopolite, one who is loosely attached to several places. In contrast, the English soldier is a native son, bound to one particular place as if by umbilical cord.

这个士兵，要成为英格兰人，就必须由英国人的天性来塑造。现在还会有这样的诗吗?如果一名英国士兵出生在雷丁，在格拉斯哥长大，在法国度过夏季，并在美国大学获得学士学位，情况会怎样?如果他死在阿富汗的战斗中，一个诗人能说他是隐藏在异国他乡的尘土中的丰富的英国尘土吗?当然不是。英国士兵具有世界公民的气质，一个松散地依附于几个地方的人。相比之下，英国士兵是一个土生土长的儿子，就像被脐带绑在一个特定的地方一样。

I spoke earlier of place as having power and that this is good to the extent that the power is used in caring and bad to the extent that the caring is excessive and so turns into a sort of confinement. In the twenty-first century, however, we hardly need to worry about excess since the immediate threat is one of weakened attachment. Places, not even home, bind us the way they used to. This raises the question, if even home has lost much of its emotional grip, what about home writ large—the nation-state? Has fervor for it also waned? I doubt it has, for there are striking differences between love of home and love of nation-state. The one draws on endearments and celebrations in the privacy of family and close friends. The other is almost the opposite, for it draws on public occasions, ceremonials, and history about which a people can be inordinately proud. But a more important difference is this: whereas love of home draws on good memories, love of nation-state draws on not only good memories but also on bad ones of defeat and humiliation, unhealed wounds that easily metastasize into hatred of the unassimilated inside and aliens outside the borders of homeland.

我早些时候说过，地方是有权力的,就权力用于关怀而言，这是好的，而就过度的关怀而言，这是坏的，因此变成了一种限制。然而，在21世纪，我们几乎不必担心过度，因为眼前的威胁是削弱依恋。地方，甚至连家都没有，像以前一样束缚着我们。这就提出了一个问题，如果连家都失去了大部分的情感控制，那么这个民族国家又该怎么办呢？对它的热情也减弱了吗？我对此表示怀疑，因为爱家和爱民族国家之间有着惊人的区别。一种是在家人和亲密朋友的私密场合表达爱意和庆祝。另一种则几乎相反，因为它借鉴了公众场合、仪式和历史，而这些都是一个民族可以无比自豪的。但一个更重要的区别是：爱家来自美好的回忆，而对民族国家的爱不仅依赖于美好的回忆，也来自于失败和耻辱、未愈合的伤口，这些记忆很容易转化为对不相似的人和祖国边界外的外国人的仇恨。