說點臟話也無妨

I gave a TEDx talk organised by London Business School a few weeks ago. I did not think it went particularly well — all the faffing and rehearsing that TED demands had the effect of making me a cheesy, stilted version of myself. As I skulked offstage, an MBA student came up to me in a state of great excitement. “That was awesome!” he said. I demurred but he went on: “I couldn’t believe you said that!”

幾周前，我參加了倫敦商學院(LBS)組織的一次TEDx大會并發(fā)表了演講。我自己覺得那次演講效果并不是特別好——所有那些按要求進行的瞎忙活和排練只讓我在臺上變得做作生硬。當我在臺下偷偷摸摸地走著的時候，一位極度興奮的MBA學員來到我面前。“那樣講棒極了!”他說。我表示不贊同，但他接著說：“我簡直不敢相信你居然說了那個詞!”

This was puzzling, given I had just spent 18 minutes giving a motherhood-and-apple-pie talk about why I was junking journalism to be a maths teacher. Then he explained: “You said the word bullshit! In a TED talk!”

他的話有點費解，因為在那18分鐘里我談論的東西應該是大家喜聞樂見的，關于我為什么要放棄記者生涯，成為一名數(shù)學老師。然后他解釋說：“你說了‘bullshit’(狗屎，瞎扯淡)這個詞!在一場TED演講里!”

We stared at each other in mutual amazement. He was shocked at my use of the word. I was shocked at his shock.

我們大眼瞪小眼，雙方都很震驚。他震驚于我用了那個詞，而我震驚于他的震驚。

To me bullshit is not a swear word: it is my meat and potatoes. It is what I have written about for decades. I use the word because there is none other that does the trick. I suppose I could say “nonsense” instead, but that would be a euphemism. And euphemism is almost always bullshit.

對我來說，“bullshit”不是臟話：這是我的基本用語。這是我在幾十年的寫作中的用詞。我用這個詞，是因為沒有別的詞可以達到同樣的效果。理論上我可以換用“nonsense”(胡扯)，但那就是婉約的說法了。而婉約說法幾乎都是狗屎。

Yet recently I have noticed something odd is happening. The corporate world, despite producing bullshit in ever greater amounts, is increasingly prudish about the word itself. When I wrote a column on how to spot bullshit, a reader posted underneath: “I object to using BS (spelt out) in a daily newspaper, especially one as esteemed as the FT. These points can be made just as well without scatological language.”

然而，最近我注意到有些怪事正在發(fā)生。盡管出產了與日俱增的廢話，企業(yè)界對這個詞卻日益談之色變，大驚小怪。我曾經寫過一篇論如何發(fā)現(xiàn)狗屁不通的廢話的專欄文章，一名讀者在下方評論：“我反對在一份日報上使用“BS”(bullshit的縮寫)這個詞，尤其是在像英國《金融時報》這樣受到尊敬的報紙上。不使用臟話也能表達這些觀點。”

A surprisingly large number of Financial Times readers recommended the message.

給這條信息點贊的FT讀者數(shù)目大的驚人。

Equally, when Travis Kalanick banged another nail in his own coffin by getting caught on camera yelling at an Uber driver, the headlines were about his swearing. He said the dread word “bullshit” at least three times, but his real offence was that he refused to listen to the financial woes of the driver, preferring to jab his finger and shout in an obnoxious fashion.

同樣的，當特拉維斯•卡蘭尼克(Travis Kalanick)又一次自掘墳墓，被人拍到沖著一位優(yōu)步(Uber)司機大喊大叫的時候，各大報紙頭條都是關于他爆粗口的事情。他說了那個惡劣的詞——“bullshit”——至少3次，但他真正的過錯是拒絕傾聽那名司機的經濟困境，寧可用手指戳著對方，以一種令人反感的方式叫嚷。

My all-time favourite story of misplaced prudery over swearing comes from Goldman Sachs. During the financial crisis a leaked internal email described one of its mortgage-backed securities as “one shitty deal”. The bank’s response? An anti-swearing policy, which meant henceforth employees would be protected from language that might upset them.

關于對臟話不知所謂的假正經，一直以來我最愛的故事來自高盛(Goldman Sachs)。在金融危機期間，一封外泄的郵件稱高盛的一只抵押支持債券是“屎一樣的買賣”。高盛的回應呢?出臺一項反粗口政策，這意味著從此以后高盛的員工將被保護起來，任何可能惹惱他們的話都不會落入他們的耳朵里。

While companies become more priggish, the evidence mounts that swearing at work is something we should be encouraging. I have just been sent an advance copy of Swearing is Good for You: the Amazing Science of Bad Language by Emma Byrne, an impressive catalogue of research showing how effing and blinding helps us deal with pain, bond with others, is associated with intelligence and makes us more inclined to trust each other.

盡管企業(yè)變得更加自命清高，越來越多的證據(jù)表明，我們應該鼓勵在工作中說臟話。最近我拿到了一本埃瑪•伯恩(Emma Byrne)的《說臟話對你有益：臟話的奇妙科學》(Swearing is Good for You: the Amazing Science of Bad Language)先行版。這本令人印象深刻的著作列舉了一系列研究，表明說臟話能幫助我們應對傷痛和與他人拉近關系，不僅與智力相關，還能讓我們更傾向于信任彼此。

It is a glorious, uplifting read, but I do not think it quite gets to the heart of it. My own research shows how swearing can help you be more successful by getting your point across and having your own way. I have just searched the 41,000 emails in my FT inbox for the word fuck and got 146 results. Most were from friends and colleagues engaging in banter, yet the few that came from strangers used expletives to great effect. One man emailed asking for my help on something with a message that began: “Your podcasts are fucking fantastic.” The addition of the swear word slowed me down, made me judge the outrageous flattery to be sincere and tricked me into saying yes.

這是一本值得稱道和令人振奮的書，但我不認為這本書說到了點子上。我自己的研究表明，說臟話能夠幫助你更成功，因為它不僅有助傳達你的觀點，并且還能讓你達成自身所求。我搜索了我的工作郵箱收件箱里的41000封電子郵件，里面有146個“fuck”。其中大多數(shù)是朋友和同事在開玩笑時說的，然而少數(shù)幾個陌生人把這個詞用到了極致。一位希望我在某件事上幫助他的人是這樣給郵件開頭的：“你的播客真是他媽的棒極了。”這句臟話讓我放慢了閱讀速度，并且讓我得出這種“別具一格”的恭維是真誠的，這誘使我答應了他的請求。

In another, a reader forwarded a message that he had received from a McKinsey consultant that ended “Bests”. “Who the fuck says ‘bests’?” the reader wrote. Once again, I paid attention, laughed and put it in my bullshit cupboard with a view to giving it a prize.

另外一封郵件里，一位讀者轉發(fā)了他從一位麥肯錫(McKinsey)咨詢師那里收到的郵件，那封郵件以“Bests”(致以最美好的祝愿)結尾。“誰他媽的會說‘bests’?”這位讀者寫道。我再一次報以關注，大笑起來，然后把這一條放到我的“狗屎收藏”中，心里想著我得給它評個獎。

Just in case anyone priggish is reading this, I ought to end with something obvious. Context is all. Swearing is only recommended for people who are amiable and know how to communicate. It should never be used by those who are nasty or angry.

以防萬一，如果本文的讀者里有一本正經的人士，我必須得用一些顯而易見的事情來給這篇文章收尾。語境是重點。粗口只推薦給那些平和友善，知道如何溝通的人。那些不友好或者憤怒的人絕對不宜說臟話。

Among the messages in my collection was one from a man who had taken exception to something I had written. His stream of obscenities deserved to be deleted unread, but I have kept it as evidence that swearing can still hurt and disgust — when it is used with just that intention.

搜索結果中還有一條來自一位強烈反對我寫的某篇文章的男士。他的郵件滿篇都是污言穢語，我其實可以完全不看，直接刪除，但我還是保留了這封郵件，這是一個證據(jù)，證明說臟話依然有可能帶來傷害，引人反胃——當一個人說臟話就是抱著這種意圖的時候。