American mythology loves nothing more than the reluctant hero: the man -- it is usually a man -- whose natural talents have destined him for more than obliging obscurity. George Washington, we are told, was a leader who would have preferred to have been a farmer. Thomas Jefferson, a writer. Martin Luther King, Jr., a preacher. These men were roused from lives of perfunctory achievement, our legends have it, not because they chose their own exceptionalism, but because we, the people, chose it for them. We -- seeing greatness in them that they were too humble to observe themselves -- conferred on them uncommon paths. Historical circumstance became its own call of duty, and the logic of democracy proved itself through the answer.

　　在美式神話中, 主角通常是那些不知不覺中成為的英雄: 一般而言,他就是一個人, 因稟賦異常, 注定此生不能默默無聞。華盛頓原本更愿意當農民,而不是領導國家; 杰弗遜, 曾立志要成為一名作家; 而馬丁路德只是一名牧師.據說是公眾要求他們不能敷衍塞責，埋沒才華; 是我們要求這些偉人必須要振作起來，追求卓越。我們選擇了他們，是因為我們看到他們的偉大，---盡管他們謙虛地認為自己并不出眾— 是我們把他們推上了不尋常的人生道路。換言之，歷史境遇和民主體制造就了這些英雄。

　　Neil Armstrong was a hero of this stripe: constitutionally humble, circumstantially noble. Nearly every obituary written for him this weekend has made a point of emphasizing his sense of privacy, his sense of humility, his sense of the ironic ordinary. Armstrong's famous line, maybe or maybe not so humanly flubbed, neatly captures the narrative: One small step for [a] man, one giant leap for mankind. And yet every aspect of Armstrong's life -- a life remembered for one act of bravery but distinguished ultimately by the bravery of banality -- made clear: On that day in 1969, he acted on our behalf, out of a sense of mission that was communal rather than personal. The reluctant hero is also the self-sacrificing hero. The reluctant hero is the charitable hero.

　　阿姆斯特朗就這種類型的英雄，個性謙卑的他響應時代的號召，成為人類的英雄。本周末，幾乎只要是他的訃告，都會提到：阿姆斯特朗深居簡出、為人謙虛，以至于讓他的平凡變得具有諷刺意味。 他的著名格言，傳神地概括了他的壯舉，他可能和所有人一樣犯錯：我的一小步代表了人類的一大步。人類將銘記他的勇敢，但因為他如此毫無顧忌地承認自己的平庸，讓他此生并不平凡。1969年的某一天，他代表整個人類完成的使命。不情愿的英雄同時還具有勇于犧牲的精神，仁慈寬厚。

　　If you've ever been on a jury, you might have noticed that a funny thing happens the minute you get behind closed doors. Everybody starts talking about themselves. They say what they would have done if they had been the plaintiff or the defendant. Being on a jury reminds me why I can’t tolerate talk radio. We Americans seem to have lost the ability to talk about anything but our own experiences. We can’t seem to generalize without stereotyping or to consider evidence that goes against our own experience.

　　如果你曾經當過陪審員，你可能會注意到一件有趣的事情——你們一閉門討論，其他人就開始談論他們自己，內容是如果他們是原告或被告，他們會做什么。擔任陪審員讓我明白了我為什么不喜歡聽熱線廣播節目。我們美國人似乎只剩下了談論我們自己經歷的能力。我們似乎無法拋開固有的成見進行總結，也無法客觀分析與我們自己經歷相悖的證據。

　　I heard a doctor on a radio show talking about a study that found that exercise reduces the incidence of Alzheimer’s. And caller after caller couldn’t wait to make essentially the opposite point: “Well, my grandmother never exercised and she lived to 95.” We are in an age summed up by the saying: “I experience, therefore I’m right.” Historically, the hallmarks of an uneducated person were the lack of ability to think critically, to use deductive reasoning, to distinguish the personal from the universal. Now that seems an apt description of many Americans.

　　我曾聽過一檔電臺節目，一位醫生正在談論一項研究，該研究發現鍛煉能降低阿爾茨海默癥的發病率。聽眾的電話一個接著一個，迫不及待地表達相反的觀點：“嗯，我祖母從不鍛煉，但她活到了95歲。”我們身處的時代可以用一句諺語總結：我經歷過，所以我是對的。歷史上，無知之人的典型特征是缺乏進行批判性思維、演繹推理和分辨個案與常態的能力。如今，把這句話放到許多美國人身上似乎恰如其分。