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.

　　在美式神话中, 主角通常是那些不知不觉中成为的英雄: 一般而言,他就是一个人, 因禀赋异常, 注定此生不能默默无闻。华盛顿原本更愿意当农民,而不是领导国家; 杰弗逊, 曾立志要成为一名作家; 而马丁路德只是一名牧师.据说是公众要求他们不能敷衍塞责，埋没才华; 是我们要求这些伟人必须要振作起来，追求卓越。我们选择了他们，是因为我们看到他们的伟大，---尽管他们谦虚地认为自己并不出众— 是我们把他们推上了不寻常的人生道路。换言之，历史境遇和民主体制造就了这些英雄。

　　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.

　　阿姆斯特朗就这种类型的英雄，个性谦卑的他响应时代的号召，成为人类的英雄。本周末，几乎只要是他的讣告，都会提到：阿姆斯特朗深居简出、为人谦虚，以至于让他的平凡变得具有讽刺意味。 他的著名格言，传神地概括了他的壮举，他可能和所有人一样犯错：我的一小步代表了人类的一大步。人类将铭记他的勇敢，但因为他如此毫无顾忌地承认自己的平庸，让他此生并不平凡。1969年的某一天，他代表整个人类完成的使命。不情愿的英雄同时还具有勇于牺牲的精神，仁慈宽厚。

　　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.

　　如果你曾经当过陪审员，你可能会注意到一件有趣的事情——你们一闭门讨论，其他人就开始谈论他们自己，内容是如果他们是原告或被告，他们会做什么。担任陪审员让我明白了我为什么不喜欢听热线广播节目。我们美国人似乎只剩下了谈论我们自己经历的能力。我们似乎无法抛开固有的成见进行总结，也无法客观分析与我们自己经历相悖的证据。

　　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.

　　我曾听过一档电台节目，一位医生正在谈论一项研究，该研究发现锻炼能降低阿尔茨海默症的发病率。听众的电话一个接着一个，迫不及待地表达相反的观点：“嗯，我祖母从不锻炼，但她活到了95岁。”我们身处的时代可以用一句谚语总结：我经历过，所以我是对的。历史上，无知之人的典型特征是缺乏进行批判性思维、演绎推理和分辨个案与常态的能力。如今，把这句话放到许多美国人身上似乎恰如其分。