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In 1990, when I had been at the FT only a shortish time, the then editor resigned. I liked him; he had been kind to me and I was sorry to see him go. But I was also very junior and had a proper horror of brown-nosing. Should I write him a letter, I wondered? Or would that be unseemly?
1990年，我到英国《金融时报》工作的时间还不长，当时的主编辞职了。我喜欢他；他对我很和气，看到他离开我感到遗憾。但我职级很低，对阿谀奉承这档子事相当畏惧。我自忖，该给他写封信吗？是不是不恰当呢？
In the end I didn’t write one, but only because I had spent so long dithering I had missed my moment. For a journalist to be several weeks late responding to news was not going to look good.
那封信到最后我也没写，但那只是因为我犹豫了太长时间，所以错过了时机。对一个记者来说，几个星期后才对消息做出反应看起来可不大好。
Since then the world has speeded up, so any response happens not in weeks but in minutes. It has also gone social: we no longer address our words of farewell to the person concerned but to everyone with an internet connection. And most remarkable of all, somewhere along the way our aversion to brown-nosing has got lost. It is not something to be done shamefully in secret, but proudly and with as much fanfare as possible.
自那时起这个世界的节奏一直在加快，人们不再等到几周后，而是在几分钟里就做出反应。这世界也变得越来越社交化：我们不再将告别的话语写给当事人，而是写给每个能上网的人。最不寻常的是，在某个时刻，我们对阿谀奉承的厌恶消失了。这不再是一件需要秘密进行的可耻的事，而变成了一件可以大大方方，越高调越好的事。
When Alan Rusbridger resigned as editor of The Guardian last Wednesday, the following spectacle played out on Twitter. Within a minute of the news getting out, the eulogies began. One former colleague tweeted: “few people in the history of journalism have had the vision and talent of @arusbridger — or could play the piano as well. A great editor.”
前段时间，《卫报》(Guardian)主编阿兰•拉斯布里杰(Alan Rusbridger)辞职，随后Twitter上上演了一幕奇观。消息放出还不到一分钟，人们就开始大唱赞歌。他的一位前同事发推文说：“新闻业史上很少有人拥有@arusbridger那样的远见和才华——或者钢琴弹得像他一样好。一位伟大的主编。”
Then others piled in, tweeting “British journalism won’t be the same without @arusbridger. If you think the tweets you’re seeing are excessive, you just never saw him work.”
然后其他人纷纷加入，发推文说“没有了@arusbridger，英国新闻业将变得不一样。如果你觉得你眼前的推文说得太过，那你只是从未看过他工作的样子罢了。”
I watched the process with a grim fascination, observing that some of the compliments received a thank you from the man himself, while others met with silence.
这些推文有一种古怪的吸引力，我观察了全过程，发现拉斯布里杰本人对其中一些赞美表示了感谢，对其他一些则未做回复。
Mr Rusbridger, by most accounts, has been an excellent editor — and he can play Chopin’s “Ballade No. 1” on the piano too. But tweets are a vulgar way of saying so, and don’t even necessarily prove their point. Even in the pre-internet age there was never a particularly strong link between public declarations of praise from interested parties and a person’s true value.
在大多数人的叙述中，拉斯布里杰的确是一位优秀的主编，而且他还会弹肖邦(Chopin)的“第一叙事曲”(Ballade No. 1)。但用推文来说这些有点不礼貌，甚至也未必有意义。即使是在前互联网时代，利益相关方公开发出的赞美和一个人的真正价值也从来就没有特别紧密的联系。
When King Lear decided it was time to carve up his kingdom he asked his daughters how much they loved him. “Sir, I do love you more than words can wield the matter,” said Regan, which Goneril trumped by saying she loved him just as much — and then some.
当李尔王(King Lear)决定是时候将自己的王国分给几个女儿时，他问她们有多爱他。大女儿高纳里尔(Goneril)说：“父亲大人，我对您的爱，不是言语所能表达的。”二女儿里根(Regan)则更胜一筹，她说姐姐刚才说的话，正是她要对父亲说的，但姐姐表达得还不够充分。
I couldn’t help thinking of the warring sisters when I read the competing tweets from two of the most hotly tipped successors to Mr Rusbridger. First to declare her love for her departing editor was Janine Gibson. “Alan Rusbridger: Once in a generation editor; best boss ever; good at surprises,” she tweeted. Her rival for the top job, Katherine Viner, followed suit with her paean in 140 characters or fewer: “Alan Rusbridger — for 17 years my inspiring editor: never afraid, always pushing us to be bigger, bolder, braver.”
两个最有可能接替拉斯布里杰的热门人选发的推文简直是在相互较劲，让我情不自禁地想起这对争宠的姐妹。亚尼内•吉布森(Janine Gibson)第一个宣布了她对离任主编的爱。她发推文说：“阿兰•拉斯布里杰：一代才出一个的主编；有史以来最好的老板；善于带给我们惊喜。”与吉布森竞争最高职位的凯瑟琳•瓦伊纳(Katherine Viner)效仿前者的做法，在140个或者更少的字数内写出了自己的赞歌：“阿兰•拉斯布里杰——17年来一直激励我的主编：永不畏惧，永远敦促我们变得更成功、更无畏、更勇敢。”
Fortunately, The Guardian has its own Cordelia in the shape of Patrick Wintour, its political editor. “Alan Rusbridger steps down as Editor in Chief of the Guardian in the summer of 2015 becoming chairman of the Scott Trust,” his more dignified tweet read.
幸运的是，《卫报》也有像考狄利娅（Cordelia，李尔王的三女儿——译者注)式人物——政治编辑帕特里克•温特(Patrick Wintour)。他的推文听上去更庄重：“《卫报》主编阿兰•拉斯布里杰将在2015年夏天离开，到斯科特信托(Scott Trust)任董事长。”
At The Economist, the other British media outfit to have lost an editor last week, tweeting activity by staff was more restrained. Only a few said they would miss their boss, and even fewer opted to fawn. “John Micklethwait, our outstanding editor at @TheEconomist becomes Bloomberg editor in chief. They are very lucky,” one wrote. Otherwise Economist journalists adopted the more tasteful Cordelia position and tweeted only the facts.
另一家英国媒体《经济学人》(The Economist)的主编近期也将离任，他们的员工在Twitter上则更加克制。只有几个员工说他们会想念他们的老板，选择说奉承话的员工就更少了。“约翰•米克尔思韦特(John Micklethwait)，我们@TheEconomist的出色主编成为了彭博社的主编。他们很幸运，”一个人写道。其他记者的做法和考狄利娅一样高雅，只在推文中陈述了事实。
What does this tell you? That Mr Micklethwait wasn’t a good editor? Or that The Economist still manages to cling to decorum — even on social networks? Or maybe there is a simpler explanation. There was no point in sucking up on Twitter, as one of the most remarkable things about the departing Economist editor is that he has managed to lead a media organisation without tweeting at all.
这告诉了我们什么？米克尔思韦特不是一位好主编？还是说《经济学人》即使是在社交网络上，也能恪守礼仪？也许有一个更简单的解释。在Twitter上拍马屁没什么意义，这位即将离开《经济学人》的主编最非凡的一点是，他一条推文都没发就领导了这家媒体机构。
An even more powerful objection to tweeted eulogies is that a legacy is more properly judged in years than in seconds.
对发推文大唱赞歌的行为，还有一个更有力的反对理由，那就是要想正确评价一个人的功与过，最好等到数年以后，而不是当下就下结论。
This was brought home to me last week at the FT’s Christmas book sale. As colleagues scrambled for bargains, I noticed that being trampled underfoot was a sad copy of the book written by a man who received more instant plaudits than any I can remember when he quit his job three years ago. Last week there were no takers for Terry Leahy’s why-I’m-so-great management memoir, even with the price slashed by 95 per cent. Given that Tesco is halfway down the tubes partly as a result of Mr Leahy’s dodgy legacy, demand is bound to be limited for his homilies on the importance on truth, loyalty and courage. Even the title, Management in 10 Words, now seems like a blatant case of mis-selling. It is management in 312 — somewhat discredited — pages.
我是在英国《金融时报》最近的圣诞图书促销会上意识到这一点的。当同事们在抢购便宜书时，我注意到脚下有一本可怜的书正在被大家踩来踩去。书的作者在3年前辞职的时候，瞬间赢得了我记忆中最多的赞誉。促销会上，没人买特里•莱希(Terry Leahy)写的这本通篇一副“我为什么这么伟大”口吻的管理回忆录，即使促销价格是0.5折。部分缘于莱西不牢靠的“管理遗产”，Tesco已经完蛋了一半，他关于真理、忠诚和勇气是多么重要的说教必然销路有限。连书的标题《十个词搞定管理》(Management in 10 Words)现在看起来都是赤裸裸的虚假推销。它明明应该叫“312页搞定管理”，而且书中的内容也不太可信。
