“最重要的是，不要撒謊”

奇馬曼達·南戈齊·阿迪奇

Congratulations to you and to all your loved ones who are here. I spent a wonderful year at the Radcliffe Institute2 here at Harvard， doing a fellowship in 2011. And I fell in love with Cambridge and so it’s very good to be back.

I grew up in Nigeria through military dictatorships and through incipient3 democracies. And America always felt aspirational when yet another absurd thing happened politically， we would say this can never happen in America. But today， the political discourse in America includes questions that are straight from the land of the absurd， questions such as “should we call a lie a lie，” “when is a lie a lie.” And so， class of 2018， at no time has it felt as urgent as now that we must protect and value the truth.

So before I tell you about not lying， I must first admit to lying. I routinely lie about my height even at the doctor’s office. In Lagos4， when I’m meeting friends for lunch， I lie about being stuck in traffic when I’m really still at home only just getting dressed. Now， there are other lies. Sadly， however， I cannot tell you about them without having to kill you afterwards. But what I know is that， I have always felt my best and done my best when I fear toward truth， when I don’t lie. And the biggest regrets of my life are of those times when I did not have the courage to embrace the truth.

Now telling the truth does not mean that everything will work out. Actually， it sometimes doesn’t. I’m not asking you to tell the truth because it will always work out， but because you will sleep well at night. And there is nothing more beautiful than to wake up every day， holding in your hand， the full measure of your integrity.

Many years ago， before my first novel was published， I attended a Writers Conference here in the US. It was a gathering of many aspiring writers and a few established writers. Now the former， the aspiring writers sucking up to the latter， the established writers， was a revered5 ritual of the conference. And so during one of the breaks， I walked up to a man， an established writer whose name I knew well but whose work I had not read. I shook his hand and told him what a fan I was. “I love your work！” I said. His wife was sitting next to him. “So， which of his books have you read？” she asked. And I froze. “Which have you read？” she asked again. Everyone at the table was quiet， watching， waiting. I smiled a mad smile， and I mumbled， “The one about… the one about the man discovering himself，” which， of course， was complete bullshit. But I thought it might be convincing since that kind of describes half of all the novels written by men. And then I fled. But before I fled， I heard the writer say to his wife， “Honey， you shouldn’t have done that.”

But the truth is that I shouldn’t have done that. To read a novel is to give honor to art. Why lie about giving honor to something to which you have not？ I was of course absolutely mortified that day， but I have come to respect what that writer’s wife had—a fantastic bullshit detector. And now that I have the good fortune of being an established writer， I can sense when a person is saying empty words and it feels much worse than if they had said nothing at all.

When I first started sending out my early writing to agents and publishers and started getting rejections， I convinced myself that my work had simply not found the right home， which might have been true. But there was another truth that took me much longer to consider， that the manuscript was not very good.

It is hard to tell ourselves the truth about our failures， our fragilities， our uncertainties. It is hard to tell ourselves that maybe we haven’t done the best that we can. It is hard to tell ourselves the truth of our emotions， that maybe what we feel is hurt rather than anger， that maybe it is time to close the chapter of a relationship and walk away. And yet when we do， we are the better off for it.

I understand that the Harvard College6 mission calls on you to be citizen leaders. Whether you are a leader or whether you are the led， I urge you always to bend toward truth to err on the side of7 truth， and to help you do this， make literature your religion. Which is to say， read widely. Read fiction and poetry and narrative nonfiction. Make the human story the center of your understanding of the world. Think of people as people， not as abstractions who have to conform to bloodless logic but as people， fragile， imperfect， with prides that can be wounded and hearts that can be touched.

Literature is my religion. I have learned from literature that we humans are flawed. All of us are flawed. But even while flawed， we are capable of enduring goodness. We do not need first to be perfect before we can do what is right and just.

And you， Harvard class of 2018， are not unfamiliar with speaking the truth. When you stood alongside dining-hall workers during the strike8， when you protested the end of DACA9， when you supported the Black Lives Matter Movement10， you were speaking the truth about the dignity that every single human being deserves. I applaud you. I urge you to continue.

But， remember， that now outside the cocoon of Harvard， the consequences will be greater. The stakes will be higher. Please don’t let that stop you from telling the truth. Sometimes especially in politicized spaces， telling the truth will be an act of courage. Be courageous.

Never set out to provoke for the sake of provoking， but never silence yourself out of fear that the truth you speak might provoke. Be courageous.

Be courageous enough to recognize those things that get in the way of telling the truth， the empty cleverness， the morally bankrupt irony， the desire to please， the deliberate obfuscation11， the tendency to confuse cynicism for sophistication.

Be courageous enough to accept that life is messy， your life will not always perfectly match your ideology. Sometimes even your choices will not align with your ideology. Don’t justify and rationalize it. Acknowledge it. Because it is in trying to justify that we get into that twisting dark unending tunnel of lies from which it is sometimes impossible to re-emerge whole.

Change a slice of the world no matter how small. If you feel a sense of dissatisfaction with the status quo， nurture that dissatisfaction. Be propelled by your dissatisfaction. Act. Get into the system and change the system. Challenge the steel assumptions that undergird12 so many of America’s cultural institutions. Tell new stories. Champion new storytellers. Because the truth is that the universal does not belong to any one group of people. Everybody’s story is potentially universal. It just needs to be told well.

A Harvard degree will give you access and opportunities. But sadly， I have to inform you that it will not make you invincible. You still have that fragile human core at the center of all of us. There will be times when you are petrified13 of failing， when fear of failure holds you back. In those moments， here is the truth that is easy to forget： you don’t actually know that you will fail.

I was lucky to be given a great gift by the universe， knowing from childhood what I loved most. Writing is what I love. Had I not had the good fortune of being published， I would be somewhere right now， completely unknown， possibly broke， but I would be writing.

Some of you here today， like me， know what you love， and some of you don’t. If you don’t know， you will. You will find it. But to find it， you must try. The wonderful Shonda Rhimes14 said very wisely that： “You have to do something until you can do something else.” Try. If it doesn’t work out， try something else. I knew from spending a year in medical school that it was not for me. Actually， that’s not really true. I knew even before medical school. But going to medical school clarified it for me. And it’s not wasted time; it’s experience and experience will serve you in ways you do not expect.

I cannot tell you how many times in the course of writing my second novel Half of a Yellow Sun， which was a deeply emotional book for me， I felt choked with uncertainty. I would climb into bed and eat chocolate. But I knew that after all the chocolate eating， after all the sinking into a dark place， that I would get up and keep writing. The truth is that you cannot create anything of value without both self-doubt and self-belief. Without self-doubt， you become complacent; without self-belief， you cannot succeed. You need both.

There is an Igbo15 saying： “Whenever you wake up， that is your morning.” What matters is that you wake up.

The world is calling you. America is calling you. There is work to be done. There are tarnished things that need to shine again. There are broken things that need to be made whole again. You are in a position to do this. You can do it.

祝賀在座的各位同學以及你們的親朋好友。2011年，我在哈佛大學拉德克利夫研究院做研究員，度過了愉快的一年，于是我愛上了坎布里奇這座城市，所以今天回到哈佛倍感興奮。

我在尼日利亞長大，經歷了數年的軍事獨裁統治和早期的民主化進程。美國總是抱有期望，即便是政界又鬧出了什么荒謬的事情，我們都會說這種事永遠不會在美國發生。然而今天，美國的政治話語中竟也納入一些荒謬至極的問題，比如“我們應該稱謊言為謊言嗎？”“謊言何時是謊言？”等。所以，2018屆的畢業生們，我們必須保護真相、珍視真相，這種迫切感從未像今天這樣強烈。

在告誡你們不要撒謊之前，我必須先承認自己撒過謊。我一向虛報身高，即便是在診室。在拉各斯，我和朋友相約共進午餐，我謊稱自己正堵在路上，而實際上我還沒出門，還在穿衣服。我還撒過其他謊，但實在都難以啟齒。但我知道，每當我敬畏真相、不敢撒謊時，我都會感到無比輕松，做事情也會竭盡全力。很多時候我沒有勇氣接受真相，那些就是我生命中最感遺憾的時刻。

講出真相并不意味著凡事都會得以解決。真的，有時不會。我要求你們講出真相，并不是因為這樣總能讓事情得以解決，而是因為你們晚上可以睡得踏實。每天早上醒來時感到問心無愧，沒有什么事情比這再美好了。

多年前，我的首部小說還沒出版，我在美國參加了一次作家大會。會議聚攏了許多新銳作家，以及幾位成名作家。新銳作家要去討好成名作家，這是大會參與者都會遵從的一條規矩。于是在一次中場休息時，我走到一位成名作家面前。他的名字我早就知道，但他的作品我從未讀過。我握著他的手，告訴他我是多么崇拜他。“我好喜歡您的作品！”我說道。他的妻子就坐在他旁邊。“那么，你讀過他的哪本書？”我一下子僵住了。“你讀過哪本？”她又問了一遍。桌子周圍的人都靜靜地看著我，等著我的回答。我極其尷尬地笑了笑，咕噥道：“就是那本……那本關于一個男人自我發現的書。”沒錯，這完全是胡說。不過我當時覺得這樣回答能讓人信服，因為男作家的小說有一半都差不多是這種套路。緊接著我便落荒而逃。但逃跑前，我聽到那位作家對他的妻子說道：“親愛的，你不該那么做。”

可實際上，是我不該那么做。讀小說是在向藝術致敬。為什么要謊稱自己曾向某種東西致敬，但事實卻是你從未致敬過呢？那天我自然是羞愧到無地自容，但是我開始對那位作家的妻子那了不起的“胡話探測器”心生敬意。如今我有幸成名，我能覺察到一個人什么時候在說空話，那感覺太糟糕了，還真不如閉口不語呢。

我最初向出版代理和出版商投稿時，曾屢屢遭拒，我就勸自己，我的作品不過是沒找對門兒而已，這有可能是真的。然而另一個真相讓我花了更長的時間去思考，那就是——我的作品還不夠好。

我們很難如實承認自己的失敗、自己的脆弱、自己的遲疑;很難承認或許自己沒有做到最好;很難如實承認自己的情感——也許我們感受到的是受傷，而非憤怒;也許是時候該結束一段感情，轉身離開。但如果我們敢于承認這一切，我們就占據了主動。

我知道，哈佛學院的使命是把你們培養成公民領袖。但無論你們是領導者還是被領導者，我都奉勸你們要始終遵從真相，哪怕為求真而犯錯。為此，你們要把文學當作信仰。也就是說，你們要廣泛閱讀——讀小說，讀詩歌，讀敘事性紀實文學作品，要圍繞人類的故事去理解這個世界，要把人當作人，并非只按冷血邏輯行事的抽象物，而是脆弱且不完美的人，有著會受傷的自尊和會感動的心。

文學是我的信仰，它讓我明白人無完人。我們每個人都有缺點。盡管如此，我們依然能夠懷揣善良。我們無須先變得完美，再去行正義之事。

哈佛大學2018屆的畢業生們，你們對于講述真相并不陌生。當你們與食堂員工的罷工隊伍站在一起時，當你們抗議國家終止“童年入境暫緩遣返”計劃時，當你們支持“黑命貴運動”時，你們就是在講述真相，講述每一個人都享有尊嚴這一真相。我為你們鼓掌！我奉勸你們堅持下去！

但你們要記住，離開哈佛這層防護，講述真相的影響會更大，面臨的風險也會更高。不過，請不要因此而放棄講出真相。有些時候，特別是針對某些政治話題，講出真相需要勇氣。鼓起勇氣來！

不要為了挑起爭端而去挑起爭端，但也絕不能因為懼怕講述真相可能挑起爭端而沉默不語。鼓起勇氣來！

鼓足勇氣，看看這些阻礙人們講出真相的種種情形吧——不切實際地自作聰明，毫無道德地嘲諷他人，迫不及待地討好他人，別有用心地混淆視聽，以及習慣性地把玩世不恭誤作品味高雅。

鼓足勇氣，接受生活是一團亂麻吧。你們的生活不一定總是完全符合你們的觀念，有時甚至你們的選擇也未必與你們的觀念一致。不必為之尋找合理的解釋，要承認那是事實，因為正是在設法找到合理解釋的過程中，我們才會陷入曲折、黑暗、沒有盡頭的謊言隧道，而且有的時候，我們不可能從中全身而退。

去改變世界吧，哪怕只是改變一點點。如果你們對現狀感到不滿，就把這份不滿裝在心里，從中獲得動力，并采取行動。要深入現行體制，改變現行體制;要挑戰那些支撐如此之多美國文化機構的固化臆斷;要講述新的故事，捍衛講故事的新人，因為事實上，普遍性并不屬于任何一個群體，每個人的故事都具有潛在的普遍性，我們只需把這個故事講好。

哈佛大學的文憑會是你們的敲門磚，給你們帶來機遇，但遺憾的是，我必須告訴你們，一紙文憑并不會讓你們無懈可擊。跟所有人一樣，你們的內心也是脆弱的。有的時候，你們會非常害怕失敗，會因恐懼而裹足不前。此時，請不要忘記這樣一個事實：實際上你并不知道自己會失敗。

我很幸運，上天賜予了我寶貴的天資。我從小就知道自己最喜愛什么。寫作是我的最愛。倘若我沒有這么幸運，我的小說沒有出版，那么現在的我說不定身在何方，完全不為人知，很可能窮困潦倒，但我一定是在寫作。

在座的各位，你們中有的人和我一樣，知道自己喜愛什么，有的則不然。即使現在你們不知道，將來也會知道。你們會找到自己的喜好的。不過，要想找到，就必須嘗試。影視達人珊達·萊姆斯曾說過一句充滿智慧的話：“一定要身體力行做些事，直到發現自己有其他才能。”要去嘗試！如果一件事不成功，就嘗試去做另一件事。我在醫學院讀了一年才知道醫學專業不適合自己。其實這樣說并不確切，因為在去醫學院讀書之前，我就知道自己不適合學醫，但學醫的經歷讓我更清楚地認識到了這一點。這不是在浪費時間，是在積累經驗，而經驗會以你意想不到的方式為你效力。

我在創作第二部小說《半輪黃日》時投入了巨大的情感，說不清在此過程中有多少次因猶豫不決而滯筆不前。每每那時，我就會爬上床吃巧克力。但我知道，吃過巧克力之后，沉淪于憂郁的思緒之后，我還是得爬起來，繼續寫作。事實上，沒有自疑和自信，你就無法創造出任何有價值的東西。沒有自疑，你就會自滿;沒有自信，你就無法成功。自疑和自信，二者缺一不可。

伊博語中有這樣一句格言：“無論你何時醒來，眼前即是你的黎明。”重要的是，你要醒來。

世界在召喚你們，美國在召喚你們。未竟的工作需要去完成，失去光澤的東西需要重新綻放光彩，支離破碎的東西需要重新修復完整。你們肩負著這些使命。你們會成功的！