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双语《如何享受人生,享受工作》 第十二章 “如果你想采蜜,不要踢翻蜂巢”

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2022年06月26日

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Chapter 12 “If You Want to Gather Honey, Don't Kick over the Beehive”

On May 7, 1931, the most sensational manhunt New York City had ever known had come to its climax. After weeks of search,“Two Gun”Crowley—the killer, the gunman who didn't smoke or drink—was at bay, trapped in his sweetheart's apartment on West End Avenue.

One hundred and fifty policemen and detectives laid siege to his top-floor hideaway. They chopped holes in the roof; they tried to smoke out Crowley, the“cop killer,”with tear gas. Then they mounted their machine guns on surrounding buildings and for more than an hour one of New York's fine residential areas reverberated with the crack of pistol fire and the tat-tat-tat of machine guns. Crowley, crouching behind an overstuffed chair, fired incessantly at the police. Ten thousand excited people watched the battle. Nothing like it had ever been seen before on the sidewalks of New York.

When Crowley was captured, Police Commissioner E. P. Mulrooney declared that the two-gun desperado was one of the most dangerous criminals ever encountered in the history of New York.“He will kill,”said the Commissioner,“at the drop of a feather.”

But how did“Two Gun”Crowley regard himself? We know, because while the police were firing into his apartment, he wrote a letter addressed“To whom it may concern.”And, as he wrote, the blood flowing from his wounds left a crimson trail on the paper. In his letter Crowley said:“Under my coat is a weary heart, but a kind one—one that would do nobody any harm.”

A short time before this, Crowley had been having a necking party with his girl friend on a country road out on Long Island. Suddenly a policeman walked up to the car and said:“Let me see your license.”

Without saying a word, Crowley drew his gun and cut the policeman down with a shower of lead. As the dying officer fell, Crowley leaped out of the car, grabbed the officer's revolver, and fired another bullet into the prostrate body. And that was the killer who said:“Under my coat is a weary heart, but a kind one—one that would do nobody any harm.”Crowley was sentenced to the electric chair. When he arrived at the death house in Sing Sing, did he say,“This is what I get for killing people”? No, he said:“This is what I get for defending myself.”

The point of the story is this:“Two Gun”Crowley didn't blame himself for anything.

Is that an unusual attitude among criminals? If you think so, listen to this:

“I have spent the best years of my life giving people the lighter pleasures, helping them have a good time,and all I get is abuse, the existence of a hunted man.”

That's Al Capone speaking. Yes, America's most notorious Public Enemy—the most sinister gang leader who ever shot up Chicago. Capone didn't condemn himself. He actually regarded himself as a public benefactor—an unappreciated and misunderstood public benefactor.

And so did Dutch Schultz before he crumpled up under gangster bullets in Newark. Dutch Schultz, one of New York's most notorious rats, said in a newspaper interview that he was a public benefactor. And he believed it.

I have had some interesting correspondence with Lewis Lawes, who was warden of New York's infamous Sing Sing prison for many years, on this subject, and he declared that“few of the criminals in Sing Sing regard themselves as bad men. They are just as human as you and I. So they rationalize, they explain. They can tell you why they had to crack a safe or be quick on the trigger finger. Most of them attempt by a form of reasoning, fallacious or logical, to justify their antisocial acts even to themselves, consequently stoutly maintaining that they should never have been imprisoned at all.”

If Al Capone,“Two Gun”Crowley, Dutch Schultz, and the desperate men and women behind prison walls don't blame themselves for anything—what about the people with whom you and I come in contact?

John Wanamaker, founder of the stores that bear his name, once confessed:“I learned thirty years ago that it is foolish to scold. I have enough trouble overcoming my own limitations without fretting over the fact that God has not seen fit to distribute evenly the gift of intelligence.”

Wanamaker learned this lesson early, but I personally had to blunder through this old world for a third of a century before it even began to dawn upon me that ninety-nine times out of a hundred, people don't criticize themselves for anything, no matter how wrong it may be.

Criticism is futile because it puts a person on the defensive and usually makes him strive to justify himself. Criticism is dangerous, because it wounds a person's precious pride, hurts his sense of importance, and arouses resentment.

B. F. Skinner, the world-famous psychologist, proved through his experiments that an animal rewarded for good behavior will learn much more rapidly and retain what it learns far more effectively than an animal punished for bad behavior. Later studies have shown that the same applies to humans. By criticizing, we do not make lasting changes and often incur resentment.

Hans Selye, another great psychologist, said,“As much as we thirst for approval, we dread condemnation.”

The resentment that criticism engenders can demoralize employees, family members and friends, and still not correct the situation that has been condemned.

George B. Johnston of Enid, Oklahoma, is the safety coordinator for an engineering company. One of his responsibilities is to see that employees wear their hard hats whenever they are on the job in the field. He reported that whenever he came across workers who were not wearing hard hats, he would tell them with a lot of authority of the regulation and that they must comply. As a result he would get sullen acceptance, and often after he left, the workers would remove the hats.

He decided to try a different approach. The next time he found some of the workers not wearing their hard hat, he asked if the hats were uncomfortable or did not fit properly. Then he reminded the men in a pleasant tone of voice that the hat was designed to protect them from injury and suggested that it always be worn on the job. The result was increased compliance with the regulation with no resentment or emotional upset.

You will find examples of the futility of criticism bristling on a thousand pages of history. Take, for example, the famous quarrel between Theodore Roosevelt and President Taft—a quarrel that split the Republican party, put Woodrow Wilson in the White House, and wrote bold, luminous lines across the First World War and altered the flow of history. Let's review the facts quickly. When Theodore Roosevelt stepped out of the White House in 1908, he supported Taft, who was elected President. Then Theodore Roosevelt went off to Africa to shoot lions. When he returned, he exploded. He denounced Taft for his conservatism, tried to secure the nomination for a third term himself, formed the Bull Moose party, and all but demolished the G. O. P. In the election that followed, William Howard Taft and the Republican party carried only two states— Vermont and Utah. The most disastrous defeat the party had ever known.

Theodore Roosevelt blamed Taft, but did President Taft blame himself? Of course not. With tears in his eyes, Taft said:“I don't see how I could have done any differently from what I have.”

Who was to blame? Roosevelt or Taft? Frankly, I don't know, and I don't care. The point I am trying to make is that all of Theodore Roosevelt's criticism didn't persuade Taft that he was wrong. It merely made Taft strive to justify himself and to reiterate with tears in his eyes:“I don't see how I could have done any differently from what I have.”

Or, take the Teapot Dome oil scandal. It kept the newspapers ringing with indignation in the early 1920s. It rocked the nation! Within the memory of living men, nothing like it had ever happened before in American public life. Here are the bare facts of the scandal: Albert B. Fall, secretary of the interior in Harding's cabinet, was entrusted with the leasing of government oil reserves at Elk Hill and Teapot Dome—oil reserves that had been set aside for the future use of the Navy. Did Secretary Fall permit competitive bidding? No sir. He handed the fat, juicy contract outright to his friend Edward L. Doheny. And what did Doheny do? He gave Secretary Fall what he was pleased to call a“loan”of one hundred thousand dollars. Then, in a high-handed manner, Secretary Fall ordered United States Marines into the district to drive off competitors whose adjacent wells were sapping oil out of the Elk Hill reserves. These competitors, driven off their ground at the ends of guns and bayonets, rushed into court—and blew the lid off the Teapot Dome scandal. A stench arose so vile that it ruined the Harding Administration, nauseated an entire nation, threatened to wreck the Republican party, and put Albert B. Fall behind prison bars.

Fall was condemned viciously—condemned as few men in public life have ever been. Did he repent? Never! Years later Herbert Hoover intimated in a public speech that President Harding's death had been due to mental anxiety and worry because a friend had betrayed him. When Mrs. Fall heard that, she sprang from her chair, she wept, she shook her fists at fate and screamed:“What! Harding betrayed by Fall? No! My husband never betrayed anyone. This whole house full of gold would not tempt my husband to do wrong. He is the one who has been betrayed and led to the slaughter and crucified.”

There you are; human nature in action, wrongdoers, blaming everybody but themselves. We are all like that. So when you and I are tempted to criticize someone tomorrow, let's remember Al Capone,“Two Gun”Crowley and Albert Fall. Let's realize that criticisms are like homing pigeons. They always return home. Let's realize that the person we are going to correct and condemn will probably justify himself or herself, and condemn us in return; or, like the gentle Taft, will say:“I don't see how I could have done any differently from what I have.”

On the morning of April 15, 1865, Abraham Lincoln lay dying in a hall bedroom of a cheap lodging house directly across the street from Ford's Theater, where John Wilkes Booth had shot him. Lincoln's long body lay stretched diagonally across a sagging bed that was too short for him. A cheap reproduction of Rosa Bonheur's famous painting The Horse Fair hung above the bed, and a dismal gas jet flickered yellow light.

As Lincoln lay dying, Secretary of War Stanton said,“There lies the most perfect ruler of men that the world has ever seen.”

What was the secret of Lincoln's success in dealing with people? I studied the life of Abraham Lincoln for ten years and devoted all of three years to writing and rewriting a book entitled Lincoln the Unknown. I believe I have made as detailed and exhaustive a study of Lincoln's personality and home life as it is possible for any being to make. I made a special study of Lincoln's method of dealing with people. Did he indulge in criticism? Oh, yes. As a young man in the Pigeon Creek Valley of Indiana, he not only criticized but he wrote letters and poems ridiculing people and dropped these letters on the country roads where they were sure to be found. One of these letters aroused resentments that burned for a lifetime.

Even after Lincoln had become a practicing lawyer in Springfield, Illinois, he attacked his opponents openly in letters published in the newspapers. But he did this just once too often.

In the autumn of 1842 he ridiculed a vain, pugnacious politician by the name of James Shields. Lincoln lampooned him through an anonymous letter published in the Springfield Journal. The town roared with laughter. Shields, sensitive and proud, boiled with indignation. He found out who wrote the letter, leaped on his horse, started after Lincoln, and challenged him to fight a duel. Lincoln didn't want to fight. He was opposed to dueling, but he couldn't get out of it and save his honor. He was given the choice of weapons. Since he had very long arms, he chose cavalry broadswords and took lessons in sword fighting from a West Point graduate; and, on the appointed day, he and Shields met on a sandbar in the Mississippi River, prepared to fight to the death; but, at the last minute, their seconds interrupted and stopped the duel.

That was the most lurid personal incident in Lincoln's life. It taught him an invaluable lesson in the art of dealing with people. Never again did he write an insulting letter. Never again did he ridicule anyone. And from that time on, he almost never criticized anybody for anything.

Time after time, during the Civil War, Lincoln put a new general at the head of the Army of the Potomac, and each one in turn—McClellan, Pope, Burnside, Hooker, Meade—blundered tragically and drove Lincoln to pacing the floor in despair. Half the nation savagely condemned these incompetent generals, but Lincoln,“with malice toward none, with charity for all,”held his peace. One of his favorite quotations was“Judge not, that ye be not judged.”

And when Mrs. Lincoln and others spoke harshly of the southern people, Lincoln replied:“Don't criticize them; they are just what we would be under similar circumstances.”

Yet if any man ever had occasion to criticize, surely it was Lincoln. Let's take just one illustration:

The Battle of Gettysburg was fought during the first three days of July 1863. During the night of July 4, Lee began to retreat southward while storm clouds deluged the country with rain. When Lee reached the Potomac with his defeated army, he found a swollen, impassable river in front of him, and a victorious Union Army behind him. Lee was in a trap. He couldn't escape. Lincoln saw that. Here was a golden, heaven-sent opportunity—the opportunity to capture Lee's army and end the war immediately. So, with a surge of high hope, Lincoln ordered Meade not to call a council of war but to attack Lee immediately. Lincoln telegraphed his orders and then sent a special messenger to Meade demanding immediate action.

And what did General Meade do? He did the very opposite of what he was told to do. He called a council of war in direct violation of Lincoln's orders. He hesitated. He procrastinated. He telegraphed all manner of excuses. He refused point-blank to attack Lee. Finally the waters receded and Lee escaped over the Potomac with his forces.

Lincoln was furious.“What does this mean?”Lincoln cried to his son Robert.“Great God! What does this mean? We had them within our grasp, and had only to stretch forth our hands and they were ours; yet nothing that I could say or do could make the army move. Under the circumstances, almost any general could have defeated Lee. If I had gone up there, I could have whipped him myself.”

In bitter disappointment, Lincoln sat down and wrote Meade this letter. And remember, at this period of his life Lincoln was extremely conservative and restrained in his phraseology. So this letter coming from Lincoln in 1863 was tantamount to the severest rebuke.

My dear General,

I do not believe you appreciate the magnitude of the misfortune involved in Lee's escape. He was within our easy grasp, and to have closed upon him would, in connection with our other late successes, have ended the war. As it is, the war will be prolonged indefinitely. If you could not safely attack Lee last Monday, how can you possibly do so south of the river, when you can take with you very few—no more than two-thirds of the force you then had in hand? It would be unreasonable to expect and I do not expect that you can now effect much. Your golden opportunity is gone, and I am distressed immeasurably because of it.

What do you suppose Meade did when he read the letter?

Meade never saw that letter. Lincoln never mailed it. It was found among his papers after his death.

My guess is—and this is only a guess—that after writing that letter, Lincoln looked out of the window and said to himself,“Just a minute. Maybe I ought not to be so hasty. It is easy enough for me to sit here in the quiet of the White House and order Meade to attack; but if I had been up at Gettysburg, and if I had seen as much blood as Meade has seen during the last week, and if my ears had been pierced with the screams and shrieks of the wounded and dying, maybe I wouldn't be so anxious to attack either. If I had Meade's timid temperament, perhaps I would have done just what he had done. Anyhow, it is water under the bridge now. If I send this letter, it will relieve my feelings, but it will make Meade try to justify himself. It will make him condemn me. It will arouse hard feelings, impair all his further usefulness as a commander, and perhaps force him to resign from the army.”

So, as I have already said, Lincoln put the letter aside, for he had learned by bitter experience that sharp criticisms and rebukes almost invariably end in futility.

Theodore Roosevelt said that when he, as President, was confronted with a perplexing problem, he used to lean back and look up at a large painting of Lincoln which hung above his desk in the White House and ask himself,“What would Lincoln do if he were in my shoes? How would he solve this problem?”

The next time we are tempted to admonish somebody, let's pull a five-dollar bill out of our pocket, look at Lincoln's picture on the bill, and ask,“How would Lincoln handle this problem if he had it?”

Mark Twain lost his temper occasionally and wrote letters that turned the paper brown. For example, he once wrote to a man who had aroused his ire:“The thing for you is a burial permit. You have only to speak and I will see that you get it.”On another occasion he wrote to an editor about a proofreader's attempts to“improve my spelling and punctuation.”He ordered:“Set the matter according to my copy hereafter and see that the proofreader retains his suggestions in the mush of his decayed brain.”

The writing of these stinging letters made Mark Twain feel better. They allowed him to blow off steam, and the letters didn't do any real harm, because Mark's wife secretly lifted them out of the mail. They were never sent.

Do you know someone you would like to change and regulate and improve? Good! That is fine. I am all in favor of it. But why not begin on yourself? From a purely selfish standpoint, that is a lot more profitable than trying to improve others—yes, and a lot less dangerous.“Don't complain about the snow on your neighbor's roof,”said Confucius,“when your own doorstep is unclean.”

When I was still young and trying hard to impress people, I wrote a foolish letter to Richard Harding Davis, an author who once loomed large on the literary horizon of America. I was preparing a magazine article about authors, and I asked Davis to tell me about his method of work. A few weeks earlier, I had received a letter from someone with this notation at the bottom:“Dictated but not read.”I was quite impressed. I felt that the writer must be very big and busy and important. I wasn't the slightest bit busy, but I was eager to make an impression on Richard Harding Davis, so I ended my short note with the words:“Dictated but not read.”

He never troubled to answer the letter. He simply returned it to me with this scribbled across the bottom:“Your bad manners are exceeded only by your bad manners.”True, I had blundered, and perhaps I deserved this rebuke. But, being human, I resented it. I resented it so sharply that when I read of the death of Richard Harding Davis ten years later, the one thought that still persisted in my mind—I am ashamed to admit—was the hurt he had given me.

If you and I want to stir up a resentment tomorrow that may rankle across the decades and endure until death, just let us indulge in a little stinging criticism—no matter how certain we are that it is justified.

When dealing with people, let us remember we are not dealing with creatures of logic. We are dealing with creatures of emotion, creatures bristling with prejudices and motivated by pride and vanity.

Bitter criticism caused the sensitive Thomas Hardy, one of the finest novelists ever to enrich English literature, to give up forever the writing of fiction. Criticism drove Thomas Chatterton, the English poet, to suicide.

Benjamin Franklin, tactless in his youth, became so diplomatic, so adroit at handling people, that he was made American Ambassador to France. The secret of his success?“I will speak ill of no man,”he said,“…and speak all the good I know of everybody.”

Any fool can criticize, condemn and complain—and most fools do.

But it takes character and self-control to be understanding and forgiving.

“A great man shows his greatness,”said Carlyle,“by the way he treats little men.”

Bob Hoover, a famous test pilot and frequent performer at air shows, was returning to his home in Los Angeles from an air show in San Diego. As described in the magazine Flight Operations, at three hundred feet in the air, both engines suddenly stopped. By deft maneuvering he managed to land the plane, but it was badly damaged although nobody was hurt.

Hoover's first act after the emergency landing was to inspect the airplane's fuel. Just as he suspected, the World War II propeller plane he had been flying had been fueled with jet fuel rather than gasoline.

Upon returning to the airport, he asked to see the mechanic who had serviced his airplane. The young man was sick with the agony of his mistake. Tears streamed down his face as Hoover approached. He had just caused the loss of a very expensive plane and could have caused the loss of three lives as well.

You can imagine Hoover's anger. One could anticipate the tongue-lashing that this proud and precise pilot would unleash for that carelessness. But Hoover didn't scold the mechanic; he didn't even criticize him. Instead, he put his big arm around the man's shoulder and said,“To show you I'm sure that you'll never do his again, I want you to service my F-51 tomorrow.”

Often parents are tempted to criticize their children. You would expect me to say“don't.”But I will not. I am merely going to say,“Before you criticize them, read one of the classics of American journalism,‘Father Forgets.’”It originally appeared as an editorial in the People's Home Journal. We are reprinting it here with the author's permission, as condensed in the Reader's Digest:

“Father Forgets”is one of those little pieces which—dashed off in a moment of sincere feeling—strikes an echoing chord in so many readers as to become a perennial reprint favorite. Since its first appearance,“Father Forgets”has been reproduced, writes the author, W. Livingston Larned,“in hundreds of magazines and house organs, and in newspapers the country over. It has been reprinted almost as extensively in many foreign languages. I have given personal permission to thousands who wished to read it from school, church, and lecture platforms. It has been‘on the air’on countless occasions and programs. Oddly enough, college periodicals have used it, and high-school magazines. Sometimes a little piece seems mysteriously to‘click’. This one certainly did.”

FATHER FORGETS

W. Livingston Larned

Listen, son:

I am saying this as you lie asleep, one little paw crumpled under your cheek and the blond curls stickily wet on your damp forehead. I have stolen into your room alone. Just a few minutes ago, as I sat reading my paper in the library, a stifling wave of remorse swept over me. Guiltily I came to your bedside.

There are the things I was thinking, son: I had been cross to you. I scolded you as you were dressing for school because you gave your face merely a dab with a towel. I took you to task for not cleaning your shoes. I called out angrily when you threw some of your things on the floor.

At breakfast I found fault, too. You spilled things. You gulped down your food. You put your elbows on the table. You spread butter too thick on your bread. And as you started off to play and I made for my train, you turned and waved a hand and called,“Goodbye, Daddy!”and I frowned, and said in reply,“Hold your shoulders back!”

Then it began all over again in the late afternoon. As I came up the road I spied you, down on your knees, playing marbles. There were holes in your stockings. I humiliated you before your boyfriends by marching you ahead of me to the house. Stockings were expensive— and if you had to buy them you would be more careful! Imagine that, son, from a father!

Do you remember, later, when I was reading in the library, how you came in timidly, with a sort of hurt look in your eyes? When I glanced up over my paper, impatient at the interruption, you hesitated at the door.“What is it you want?”I snapped.

You said nothing, but ran across in one tempestuous plunge, and threw your arms around my neck and kissed me, and your small arms tightened with an affection that God had set blooming in your heart and which even neglect could not wither. And then you were gone, pattering up the stairs.

Well, son, it was shortly afterwards that my paper slipped from my hands and a terrible sickening fear came over me. What has habit been doing to me? The habit of finding fault, of reprimanding—this was my reward to you for being a boy. It was not that I did not love you; it was that I expected too much of youth. I was measuring you by the yardstick of my own years.

And there was so much that was good and fine and true in your character. The little heart of you was as big as the dawn itself over the wide hills. This was shown by your spontaneous impulse to rush in and kiss me good night. Nothing else matters tonight, son. I have come to your bedside in the darkness, and I have knelt there, ashamed!

It is a feeble atonement; I know you would not understand these things if I told them to you during your waking hours. But tomorrow I will be a real daddy! I will chum with you, and suffer when you suffer, and laugh when you laugh. I will bite my tongue when impatient words come. I will keep saying as if it were a ritual:“He is nothing but a boy—a little boy!”

I am afraid I have visualized you as a man. Yet as I see you now, son, crumpled and weary in your cot, I see that you are still a baby. Yesterday you were in your mother's arms, your head on her shoulder. I have asked too much, too much.

Instead of condemning people, let's try to understand them. Let's try to figure out why they do what they do. That's a lot more profitable and intriguing than criticism; and it breeds sympathy, tolerance and kindness.“To know all is to forgive all.”

As Dr. Johnson said:“God himself, sir, does not propose to judge man until the end of his days.”

Why should you and I?

DON'T CRITICIZE, CONDEMN OR COMPLAIN.

第十二章 “如果你想采蜜,不要踢翻蜂巢”

1931年5月7日,纽约市最轰动的一起追捕行动进入了白热化阶段。经过了几周的搜查后,杀人犯“双枪”克劳利终于走投无路,这个烟酒不沾的持枪歹徒被围困在他女友的西区公寓中。

一百五十名警察和侦探包围了顶层他的藏身处,他们在房檐上钻孔,试图用烟雾弹把这个警察杀手呛出来,他们还在周围的高楼上架设了机关枪。整整一个多小时内,这个纽约高档住宅区里回荡的都是手枪和机关枪发射子弹的声音。克劳利躲在堆得密密实实的椅子后面不停向警察开枪。一万多名兴奋的群众在观战,这样的场景从未在纽约市的街道上发生过。

克劳利被捕后,E.P.莫鲁尼警长宣布这个双枪亡命徒是纽约有史以来最危险的罪犯之一。警长说:“他可以为任何不起眼的事而杀人。”

但“双枪”克劳利是怎么看自己的呢?从他的信中我们可以窥探一二,就在警察向公寓开枪时,他写下了一封“致有关人士”的信。他用伤口涌出的血在信纸上留下一道殷红的印记,他在信中写道:“在我的外表下藏着一颗疲倦却善良的心,它不会伤害任何人。”

之前不久,克劳利和他的女友在长岛的一条乡间小路上激情拥吻。这时一名警察忽然走过来说:“出示你的驾照。”

克劳利二话不说,掏出枪对着警察疯狂扫射。在警察倒下时,他跳下车,用警察的枪又往那已经倒下的身体中射入了一枚子弹。这就是那个自己宣称“我的外表下藏着一颗疲倦却善良的心,不会伤害任何人”的人。

克劳利被判了电椅处死。当他走进纽约新新监狱的处刑室后,他说了一句话。他是否说“这就是我杀人的下场”?不,他说的是:“这就是自我防卫的下场。”

故事的重点在于,“双枪”克劳利不认为自己有任何问题。

在罪犯中,这种态度罕见吗?如果你这么认为,请听听这个:

“我用我最好的年华给人们带去最多的快乐,帮助他们获得更美好的时光,而我却只落得辱骂和被追捕的下场。”

这是艾尔·卡彭的原话。没错,就是那个美国最十恶不赦的公敌,芝加哥最邪恶的黑帮头目。卡彭没有谴责自己,他甚至把自己看作公共施恩者——一个不被感激、不被理解的公众恩人。

达奇·舒尔茨在被纽瓦克黑帮枪杀前也是这样想的。他是纽约最臭名昭著的混混之一。他也曾在接受报社采访时称自己为社会行善。并且,确信事实就是如此。

我曾与纽约新新监狱的狱监路易斯·劳斯进行过为期数年的有趣对话,谈论的内容正是围绕着此话题。他说:“新新监狱里很少有罪犯觉得自己是坏人。他们和你我一样都是人,所以都会为自己开脱、会把事情解释得合理化。他们理直气壮地讲出当时为何要抢保险柜,手指为何会那么敏捷地扣动扳机。他们中大多数人会用谬误或没有逻辑性的理由为自己的反社会行为进行辩解,自己也相信了这些理由。结果就是,他们坚定地相信自己压根不该被捕入狱。”

假如像卡彭、“双枪”克劳利、舒尔茨和监狱高墙背后的罪犯这样的人都不懂得从自己身上找问题,那么你我认识的人呢?

创立了以自己名字命名的百货公司的约翰·沃纳梅克曾经坦言:“三十年前我就懂得了责骂他人这一举动的愚蠢。克服自身的局限性并不去抱怨上帝没有公平分配智商就已经很不易了。”

沃纳梅克很早就领悟到了这个道理,而我则继续在这个老套的世界里跌跌撞撞三十余年才察觉到,在99%的情况下,人们都不会从自身找问题,不论自己做了怎样荒唐的事。

批评是毫无意义的,因为它会开启对方的自我防卫心理,往往使人竭力为自己辩护。批评也是很危险的,因为它会伤害一个人宝贵的尊严和自我价值,也会引起愤恨的情绪。

全球著名心理学家B.F.斯金纳曾通过实验证明,因做出正确行为而得到奖励的动物比因做出错误行为而受罚的动物能更有效地学习。之后的研究更显示,这理论也适用于人类。人们不会因批评而做出长久的改变,还往往会心生怨恨。

另一位伟大心理学家汉斯·塞利曾说过:“我们对指责的恐惧就如对肯定的渴望一样强烈。”

批评所引发的怨恨会使员工、家人和朋友意志消沉,到头来却依然没能解决问题。

俄克拉荷马伊尼德市的乔治·B.约翰斯顿是一家工程公司的安全协调人员,他的责任之一便是要确保员工进入工地时戴好安全帽。他说,每当他看到不戴安全帽的工人时,都会用权威而专业的口吻重申法规并命令他们严格遵从。虽然工人会在他面前闷闷不乐地答应,可等他一转身工人就又把帽子摘了下来。

他决定尝试新的方法。当他再看到不戴安全帽的员工时,他会首先询问帽子是否不舒服或者不合适,然后再用令人愉悦的口吻提醒他们帽子是为保护员工不受伤害而设计的,并建议他们工作时要一直戴着安全帽。结果遵守规定的人一下子增加了很多,怨气和愤怒也消失不见了。

历史上还存在着不少这类毫无意义的批评的例子,例如总统西奥多·罗斯福和塔夫脱之间的争论。这场争论分裂了共和党,把伍德罗·威尔逊送进了白宫,在第一次世界大战中留下一条清晰的线并改变了历史的轨迹。1908年,当西奥多·罗斯福离开白宫时,他是支持新当选的总统塔夫脱的。后来罗斯福去非洲猎狮子,返回后他的情绪爆发了。他指责塔夫脱过于保守,试图确保第三次任期的提名,还组建了雄鹿党,差点就摧毁了共和党。在随后的选举中,威廉·霍华德·塔夫脱和共和党只拿下了两个州——佛蒙特州和犹他州。这是共和党世上最惨烈的一次失利。

西奥多·罗斯福谴责塔夫脱,可塔夫脱会自责吗?坦白地说,我不知道。我想表达的是,罗斯福的批评并没有令塔夫脱认识到自己有问题,而只是让塔夫脱竭力为自己辩护,含泪重申:“我不认为有其他的方式来行事。”

或者也可以拿茶壶顶石油丑闻作为例子。这件事在20年代早期引起了轩然大波,各大报纸争相报道。它震惊了全国,在人们的记忆里,美国公众生活中还没有发生过这样的事。事情是这样的:哈丁的内政部长阿尔伯特·B.福尔被授权负责麋鹿山和茶壶顶的政府石油储备,这些石油是为海军日后的需求而储备的。福尔部长实行了竞争性投标吗?没有。他把这项利润极高的工程直接交给了朋友爱德华·L.多希尼。而多希尼是怎么做的呢?他给了福尔部长十万美金,声称是贷款。福尔部长专横地命令美国海军赶走在麋鹿山开采石油的其他竞争商家。在枪口和刺刀的威逼下,这些油商离开了油田,走进了法庭,揭露了茶壶顶丑闻。这个丑闻带来了巨大的不利影响,它摧毁了哈丁政权,引起了全国的反感,也威胁到共和党的存亡,并使阿尔伯特·B.福尔锒铛入狱。

福尔受到强烈的指责——很少有公众人物经历过这种程度的指责,他悔过了吗?从来没有!几年后赫伯特·胡佛在一次公共演讲中暗示哈丁总统的死是由于心理焦虑,因为一个朋友背叛了他。当福尔夫人听到此话时从椅子上跳了起来,她哭着说:“什么?哈丁被福尔背叛了?没有!我丈夫从未背叛任何人。就算满屋黄金也不能诱惑我的丈夫做坏事。他才是那个被人出卖、被杀戮、被迫害的人。”

这就是人性最真实的写照了。犯错的人总是怪罪于其他人,唯独不怪自己。我们皆是如此。所以当你我明天想要指责他人时,要记住艾尔·卡彭、“双枪”克劳利和阿尔伯特·福尔的例子。我们要认识到,指责就像家养的鸽子,总是会飞回家的。要知道,我们要去纠正和谴责的人很可能会为自己辩护,然后反过来指责我们。或者会像塔夫脱将军那样说:“我不认为有其他的方式行事。”

1865年4月15日的早晨,在一个廉价住所一楼走廊尽头的狭小卧室中,亚伯拉罕·林肯奄奄一息地躺在床上。旅馆对面就是约翰·威尔克斯·布斯枪杀林肯的福特剧院,林肯修长的身体在软塌塌的过于短小的床上呈对角线伸展开来。床头挂着罗莎·帮贺的名画《马市》的廉价复制品,还有阴沉的煤油灯闪动着昏黄的光。

林肯躺在那里即将辞世时,陆军部长斯坦顿说:“那里躺着的是人类在世间所见过的最完美的统治者。”

林肯和人打交道的成功秘诀是什么?我用十年时间研究了林肯的一生,用了三年时间撰写又不断重写一本书——《林肯传》(Lincoln the Unknown)。对林肯的性格和家庭生活的研究,我相信没有人比我做得更详尽了。我特别钻研了林肯与人交往的方式。他是否曾经乐于指责?哦,是的。年轻时还住在印第安纳州鸽溪山谷的林肯不但指责他人,还以写信、作诗的方式嘲讽别人,而且还会把这些信件撒放在必定会被人看到的乡间小路上。其中的一封信引起了一个人燃烧一生的愤恨。

即便林肯在伊利诺伊州的斯普林菲尔德市当执业律师时,依然会在报纸上公然发表信件来攻击对手。但或许他应该有所节制。

1842年的秋天,他嘲讽了一个自负、好斗的政治家,此人名叫詹姆斯·席尔斯。林肯在斯普林菲尔德日报上发表了一封匿名讽刺信,引起了全城人哄笑。敏感而骄傲的席尔斯极度愤怒,他找出了文章的作者,跳上马背追踪到林肯的面前并向他提出决斗的挑战。林肯不愿动武,他反对决斗,但无法保全荣誉地避开决斗。林肯可以自己选择武器,因为他的手臂很长,他选了骑兵大刀,然后开始和西点军校的毕业生学习搏斗。到了指定的日期,他和席尔斯在密西西比河畔的沙堤上见面了,准备战个你死我活,但在最后一分钟里,他们的副手前来阻止了这场决斗。

这是林肯一生中最可怕而重要的一件私事,它给林肯上了一堂人际交往的课。之后他再没写过侮辱性信件,也再没有嘲讽过任何人。从那时起,他几乎再也没有因任何事而指责过任何人。

在南北战争时期,林肯一次又一次地更换波多马克的军队首领——麦克莱伦、蒲伯、伯恩赛德、胡克、米德,但他们每个人都犯了悲剧性的错误,使得林肯不停地在绝望中踱步。半个美国都在凶狠地谴责这些无能的将军,但林肯“对任何人都没有恶意,对所有人都宽容、和善”,他保持着平和。他最爱的一句名言是“不评判,则不被评判。”

当林肯夫人和其他人都在严声指责南方人时,林肯说:“别指责他们。他们只是做了我们在那种情况下也会做的事罢了。”

然而最有权指责的人莫过于林肯了。我们只需看一个例子:

在1863年7月的前三天,葛底茨堡之役开始了。7月4日的晚上,乌云卷着雨笼罩着大地,当李将军带着惨败的军队来到波多马克河时,他发现面前淌着一条宽广、无法跨越的大河,而身后是完胜的北方军。李将军掉进了陷阱里,无处可逃。林肯看到了这个天赐良机,只要俘获李将军的军队就能立刻结束战争。所以林肯带着厚望命令米德不要召集军事会议,直接围剿李军。林肯先是用电报发出了指令,而后又派遣了一名特殊信差告知米德立刻行动。

米德将军做了什么呢?他做了截然相反的事。他彻底违背了林肯的指示,召集了军事会议。他犹豫、拖延,在电报里做了各种解释,拒绝直截了当地攻击李军。最后河水退了,李军越过了波多马克河,成功地逃脱了。

林肯怒不可遏,他对儿子罗伯特大喊:“这是怎么回事?上天啊!这是怎么回事?他们就在我们的掌控之中,只需伸出手指胜利就是我们的了,然而,我怎么说怎么做都没法让军队动起来。在那种情形下,任何一个将军都能打败李军,如果我在那儿都能亲手灭了他。”

在苦楚的绝望中,林肯坐了下来,给米德写了下面这封信。要知道,在这个人生阶段里林肯用词是极端保守和有节制的,所以林肯这封1863年写的信已经堪称最严厉的谴责了。

我亲爱的将军,

我认为你不了解李军逃脱的严重后果。他本就在我们的掌控之中,结合我们之前的胜利来看,剿灭了他也就等于结束了战争。现如今,战争又要无止境地延续下去。如果上周一你不能稳稳拿下李军,那现在只带着2/3的军力,你又怎可能成功向大河以南征战?现如今期待你改变局面已不太现实,而我也不会再如此期待。你失去了天赐良机,而我因此无比悲痛。

你猜米德读完这封信是怎么做的?

事实上,米德从未收到过这封信,因为林肯并没有把信寄出去。林肯去世后,人们在他的文件堆中找到了这封信。

我猜想——这仅仅是猜想而已——林肯写完信后望向窗外,对自己说:“等等,或许我不能如此草率。我坐在白宫里发号施令总是容易的,但如果我在葛底茨堡前线,亲眼看到米德上周看到的尸山血海,听到受伤者、垂死者发出的嚎叫,或许我也会不那么急于进攻了。如果我像米德那样个性腼腆,或许会做出同样的反应。不论如何事已至此,寄出这封信我会感觉好些,但会使米德急于为自己辩解。他会指责我,会产生怨气。这会影响他作为将领今后的表现,或许还会使他被迫辞职。”

所以就如我之前所说的那样,林肯把信放在了一边。他已经通过惨痛的经历学到了:尖锐的指责到最后几乎总是无谓的。

西奥多·罗斯福说,当他面临复杂问题时总会靠在椅背上看着白宫办公桌上方悬挂的林肯的大幅画像,然后问自己:“如果林肯面临同样的情况,他会怎么做?他会怎么解决这个问题?”

下次当我们想要批评别人时,让我们掏出五美金钞票看看林肯的头像,然后问自己:“林肯会如何解决这个问题?”

马克·吐温偶尔会发火,写些令人大惊失色的信。比如有一次他写信给一个令他愤怒的人:“你需要的是一张埋葬许可证。你只需开口,我保证你拿到手。”还有一次他给一位编辑写了封信,针对的是校对者关于订正他的拼写和标点符号所做的尝试。他命令道:“从此以后不要改动我的原稿,让校对者的建议保留在他那腐蚀成一坨糨糊的大脑里。”

写完这些尖锐的信让马克·吐温感觉舒服多了,这是一种发泄,而且也没有带来不好的影响,因为马克的妻子悄悄把这些信从信箱中拿了出来,从未寄出过。

你认识那些自己希望改变、管制和改善的人吗?很好,这没有问题。我完全赞同。但是为何不从自己开始?从完全自私的角度来说,这样做比改善别人获益更多,而且也更安全。中国古语说得好:“各人自扫门前雪,莫管他人瓦上霜。”

我在年轻时,也就是试图让每个人对我印象深刻的那个阶段里,曾经给理查德·哈丁·戴维斯写过一封愚蠢的信。他是当时美国文坛闪耀的一位作家,而那时我正在写一篇关于作家的杂志文章,希望戴维斯告诉我他的工作方式。几周前我从别人那儿收到一封信,底部写着“口述未核对”。这给我留下了极深的印象。我想对方肯定特别有威望,工作又忙碌。我一点也不忙,但为了让理查德·哈丁·戴维斯对我印象深刻,我在给他的那封短信下也写上了“口述未核对”。

他不做其他回复,只是把信退给了我,在底部草草写着:“你的无礼只能被你自己的无礼超越了。”没错,我是鲁莽了,或许罪有应得。但作为一个人,我很愤恨。我的这种情绪如此之强,以至于十年后当我听到了他的死讯时,第一个想到的就是他给我带来的伤害。——我羞愧地承认这点。

如果你我想引起持续几十年甚至一生的痛苦,那么就尽情地给予发泄性批判吧。

与人相处时要记得,人类不是逻辑动物。我们面对的是情绪动物,他们长着偏见的刺,被骄傲和虚荣所驱使。

哈代是英国文学史上最好的小说家之一,刻薄的批评使敏感的托马斯·哈代永远放弃了继续写小说。批评还使英国诗人托马斯·查特顿结束了自己的生命。

年轻时的本杰明·富兰克林不谙世事,后来变得非常有外交手段。他非常善于与人交往,后来成了美国驻法大使。他成功的秘密是什么?他说“我不说别人的坏话,并且只说我所知道的他们的优点。”

任何愚蠢的人都知道怎样批评、指责和抱怨别人,而大多数愚蠢人也是这样做的。

然而理解和宽容却需要人格和自制力。

卡莱尔说:“对待小人物的方式体现了伟人的伟大。”

鲍勃·胡佛是一个知名的试飞员,常常进行空中飞行表演。有一次,他完成了圣地亚哥的飞行表演正向着洛杉矶的家中返回,据《飞行操作》杂志的描述,在三百尺的空中,飞机的两个引擎忽然都失灵了,他靠熟练的操作才得以安全着陆。虽然无人受伤,但飞机受到了严重损坏。

胡佛紧急降落后做的第一件事便是检查机油。就如他所怀疑的那样,这架二战螺旋桨式飞机被灌了喷气机式燃油,而非汽油。

回到机场后他提出要见这架飞机的机械师。机械师是一个年轻人,他为自己的错误深感痛苦。当胡佛走近时,这个年轻人的眼泪马上涌了出来。他刚刚导致一架昂贵的飞机报废,还差点连累三个人丧命。

你能想象到胡佛有多生气,也能猜想到这位骄傲、严谨的飞行员将如何大骂机械师的疏忽。然而胡佛没有骂他,甚至没有批评他。相反,他用他结实的手臂搭着对方的肩膀说:“我相信你以后再也不会犯这样的错误。为了证明这点,我想让你明天维护我的F-51。”

家长总是爱批评孩子。你可能以为我会建议“不要这样”,但我想表达的不是这个。我只想说:“在批评他们之前,请阅读美国报纸杂志中的一篇经典——《爸爸忘了》。”这篇文章最初被刊登在《人类之家》杂志上,我们得到了作者的授权,在此刊登经《读者文摘》浓缩后的版本。

《爸爸忘了》是那种在瞬间的诚恳感受的启发下而写成的小文章,颇能触动读者的心弦,因极受欢迎所以被重刊多年。如作家W.利文斯顿·拉内德所述,这篇文章被“千百本杂志、企业商报和全国报纸刊印,也曾被翻译成多种文字出版。我个人就曾授权上千人在学校、教堂和讲台上宣读这篇文章。它也曾上过电台的各种场合和节目。出乎意料的是,大学期刊和高中杂志也都用过这篇文章。有时一篇小文章能神奇地触动人心。这篇就做到了。”

爸爸忘了

W.利文斯顿·拉内德

儿子,听我说:当我说这些话时,你正酣然入梦,一只小手蜷在脸颊下,金黄色的鬈发黏在湿乎乎的额头上。我一个人悄悄地走进了你的房间。几分钟前,我坐在书房看报纸,一阵令人窒息的懊恼向我袭来。我愧疚地来到了你的床前。

儿子,我在想这些事:我曾对你发脾气。在你梳洗准备上学时,我因你只用毛巾乱抹了下脸应付了事而责骂你;我因你没有擦鞋而批评你;当你把自己的东西丢在地上时,我生气地大喊大叫。

早餐时我也挑你的错。你会把食物撒出来;你狼吞虎咽;你把胳膊肘搭在桌上;你面包上抹的黄油太厚了。在你准备去玩而我准备赶火车时,你转身对我挥挥手,叫道:“爸爸再见!”我皱皱眉头回答:“挺起你的肩膀!”

下午这一切又会重演一次。我在路上看见你跪在泥上玩玻璃球,袜子上还磨出了洞。我命令你走到我面前,把你赶回家,让你在朋友前丢脸了。袜子很贵,如果你要自己掏钱买就会懂得珍惜了!儿子,想象一下,这是从一个父亲口中说出的话!

你还记得吗?之后我在书房看报,你怯生生地走进来,带着种伤痛的眼神。我把报纸放下看到了你,对于你的打扰很不耐烦。你在门口踌躇。“什么事?”我厉声说。

你什么都没说,但猛地跑过来,搂着我的脖子亲了我一下,那时你的小手臂环抱得更紧了,充满了爱。这爱是上帝在你心中盛开的花朵,即便被忽视也不会凋零。然后你走了,嗒嗒地跑上楼。

儿子,后来报纸从我手中滑落,我心中升起了令人不悦的恐惧。习惯把我变成了什么样子了?我养成了那种爱挑毛病、爱谴责的习惯,只因你是男孩我就如此对待你。不是因为我不爱你,只是因为我对孩子的要求太高了。我是用我自己的标准来要求你。

然而你的性格中还有那么多的善良、优秀和真实。你那颗小小的心脏比笼罩着宽阔山脉的黎明还要大。你跑进来亲吻我、道晚安的自发冲动就证明了这点。儿子,今晚其他事都不再重要。我在黑暗中走到你的床边,惭愧地跪在这里!

这些都无法弥补。我知道在你醒时跟你说这些你是不会明白的,但明天起我会做一个真正的父亲!我要和你成为朋友,为你的痛苦而痛苦,为你的喜悦而喜悦。当不耐烦的想法出现时,我会忍住不说出来。我会一直严肃地对自己说:“他只是个孩子而已,一个小孩子。”

我之前一直把你当作成年男子一样对待,而现在当我看着你时,儿子,你疲惫的身体蜷缩在小床上,我才意识到你还是个婴孩。昨天你还在妈妈的怀里,小脑袋搭在她的肩上。我要求的太多了,太多了。

让我们都试图去理解而不是谴责他人,让我们试着了解人们做事的原因。这会比谴责更有收获、更有趣;它还能培养同情、宽容与善良的心。“包容一切就是了解一切。”

就如约翰逊博士所述:“先生,上帝本身并没有要评判人类——直到末日来临的一刻。”那么你和我又为何要评判呢?记住:

请不要批评、谴责或抱怨。

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