「耶路撒冷文学奖创办于1963年，每两年颁发一次，意在表彰其作品涉及人类自由、人与社会和政治间关系的作家。往届得主包括亚瑟‧米勒、苏珊‧桑塔格、伯特兰‧罗素、VS.奈波尔、J.M.柯慈、博尔赫斯、米兰‧昆德拉、西蒙‧波娃、奥克塔维奥‧帕斯（Octavio Paz, 1914-1998，墨西哥诗人、散文家）和巴尔加斯‧略萨等人，皆为大名流。耶路撒冷书展在其官方网站上形容，村上乃「当代最伟大的作家之一」，其作品已被译成40种语言，广受嘉许，在以色列，他也是读者最多的外国作家之一。该奖声明讚扬 了村上的艺术成就和「对人民的爱」，并称：「他的人道主义清晰地呈现于其作品中。」第24届耶路撒冷国际书展将于2月15日至20日举行。村上春树将于书展开幕当天在耶路撒冷国际会议中心受奖。」


我是以小说家的身份来到耶路撒冷，也就是说，我的身份是一个专业的谎言编织者。

当然，说谎的不只是小说家。我们都知道，政客也会。外交人员和军人有时也会被迫说谎，二手车业务员，屠夫和工人也不例外。不过，小说家的谎言和其他人不同的地方在于，没有人会用道德标准去苛责小说家的谎言。事实上，小说家的谎言说的越努力，越大、越好，批评家和大众越会赞赏他。为什么呢？

我的答案是这样的：藉由传述高超的谎言；也就是创造出看来彷彿真实的小说情节，小说家可以将真实带到新的疆域，将新的光明照耀其上。在大多数的案例中，我们几乎不可能捕捉真理，并且精准的描绘它。因此，我们才必须要将真理从它的藏匿处诱出，转化到另一个想像的场景，转换成另一个想像的形体。不过，为了达成这个目的，我们必须先弄清楚真理到底在自己体内的何处。要编出好的谎言，这是必要的。

不过，今天，我不准备说谎。我会尽可能的诚实。一年之中只有几天我不会撒谎，今天刚好是其中一天。

让我老实说吧。许多人建议我今天不应该来此接受耶路撒冷文学奖。有些人甚至警告我，如果我敢来，他们就会杯葛我的作品。

会这样的原因，当然是因为加萨走廊正发生的这场激烈的战斗。根据联合国的调查，在被封锁的加萨城中超过一千人丧生，许多人是手无寸铁的平民，包括了儿童和老人。


在收到获奖通知之后，我自问：在此时前往以色列接受这文学奖是否是一个正确的行为。这会不会让人以为我支持冲突中的某一方，或者认为我支持一个选择发动压倒性武力的国家政策。当然，我不希望让人有这样的印象。我不赞同任何战争，我也不支持任何国家。同样的，我也不希望看到自己的书被杯葛。

最后，在经过审慎的考量之后，我终于决定来此。其中一个原因是因为有太多人反对我前来参与了。或许，我就像许多其他的小说家一样，天生有着反骨。如果人们告诉我，特别是警告我：「千万别去那边，」「千万别这么做，」我通常会想要「去那边」和「这么做」。你可以说这就是我身为小说家的天性。小说家是种很特别的人。他们一定要亲眼所见、亲手所触才愿意相信。

所以我来到此地。我选择亲身参与，而不是退缩逃避。我选择亲眼目睹，而不是蒙蔽双眼。我选择开口说话，而不是沉默不语。

这并不代表我要发表任何政治信息。判断对错当然是小说家最重要的责任。

不过，要如何将这样的判断传递给他人，则是每个作家的选择。我自己喜欢利用故事，倾向超现实的故事。因此，我今日才不会在各位面前发表任何直接的政治讯息。

不过，请各位容许我发表一个非常个人的讯息。这是我在撰写小说时总是牢记在心的。我从来没有真的将其形诸于文字或是贴在墙上。我将它隽刻在我内心的墙上，这句话是这样说的：

「若要在高耸的坚墙与以卵击石的鸡蛋之间作选择，我永远会选择站在鸡蛋那一边。」

是的。不管那高墙多么的正当，那鸡蛋多么的咎由自取，我总是会站在鸡蛋那一边。就让其他人来决定是非，或许时间或是历史会下判断。但若一个小说家选择写出站在高墙那一方的作品，不论他有任何理由，这作品的价值何在？


这代表什么？在大多数的状况下，这是很显而易见的。轰炸机、战车、火箭与白磷弹是那堵高墙。被压碎、烧焦、射杀的手无寸铁的平民则是鸡蛋。这是这比喻的一个角度。

不过，并不是只有一个角度，还有更深的思考。这样想吧。我们每个人或多或少都是一颗鸡蛋。我们都是独一无二，装在脆弱容器理的灵魂。对我来说是如此，对诸位来说也是一样。我们每个人也或多或少，必须面对一堵高墙。这高墙的名字叫做体制。体制本该保护我们，但有时它却自作主张，开始残杀我们，甚至让我们冷血、有效，系统化的残杀别人。


我写小说只有一个理由。那就是将个体的灵魂尊严暴露在光明之下。故事的目的是在警醒世人，将一道光束照在体系上，避免它将我们的灵魂吞没，剥夺灵魂的意义。我深信小说家就该揭露每个灵魂的独特性，藉由故事来理清它。用生与死的故事，爱的故事，让人们落泪的故事，让人们因恐惧而颤抖的故事，让人们欢笑颤动的故事。这才是我们日复一日严肃编织小说的原因。

先父在九十岁时过世。他是个退休的教师，兼职的佛教法师。当他在研究所就读时，他被强制征召去中国参战。身为一个战后出身的小孩，我曾经看著他每天晨起在餐前，于我们家的佛坛前深深的向佛祖祈祷。有次我问他为什么要这样做，他告诉我他在替那些死于战争中的人们祈祷。

他说，他在替所有牺牲的人们祈祷，包括战友，包括敌人。看着他跪在佛坛前的背影，我似乎可以看见死亡的阴影包围著他。

我的父亲过世时带走了他的记忆，我永远没机会知道一切。但那被死亡包围的背影留在我的记忆中。这是我从他身上继承的少数几件事物，也是最重要的事物。

我今日只想对你传达一件事。我们都是人类，超越国籍、种族和宗教，都只是一个面对名为体制的坚实高墙的一枚脆弱鸡蛋。不论从任何角度来看，我们都毫无胜机。高墙太高、太坚硬，太冰冷。唯一胜过它的可能性只有来自我们将灵魂结为一体，全心相信每个人的独特和不可取代性所产生的温暖。


请各位停下来想一想。我们每个人都拥有一个独特的，活生生的灵魂。体制却没有。我们不能容许体制践踏我们。我们不能容许体制自行其是。体制并没有创造我们：是我们创造了体制。

这就是我要对各位说的。

我很感谢能够获得耶路撒冷文学奖。我很感谢世界各地有那么多的读者。我很高兴有机会向各位发表演说。

原文在底下：

Lucifer

Always on the side of the egg
By Haruki Murakami
Tags: Israel News, Haruki Murakami

I have come to Jerusalem today as a novelist, which is to say as a professional spinner of lies.

Of course, novelists are not the only ones who tell lies. Politicians do it, too, as we all know. Diplomats and military men tell their own kinds of lies on occasion, as do used car salesmen, butchers and builders. The lies of novelists differ from others, however, in that no one criticizes the novelist as immoral for telling them. Indeed, the bigger and better his lies and the more ingeniously he creates them, the more he is likely to be praised by the public and the critics. Why should that be?

My answer would be this: Namely, that by telling skillful lies - which is to say, by making up fictions that appear to be true - the novelist can bring a truth out to a new location and shine a new light on it. In most cases, it is virtually impossible to grasp a truth in its original form and depict it accurately. This is why we try to grab its tail by luring the truth from its hiding place, transferring it to a fictional location, and replacing it with a fictional form. In order to accomplish this, however, we first have to clarify where the truth lies within us. This is an important qualification for making up good lies.

Today, however, I have no intention of lying. I will try to be as honest as I can. There are a few days in the year when I do not engage in telling lies, and today happens to be one of them.

So let me tell you the truth. A fair number of people advised me not to come here to accept the Jerusalem Prize. Some even warned me they would instigate a boycott of my books if I came.

The reason for this, of course, was the fierce battle that was raging in Gaza. The UN reported that more than a thousand people had lost their lives in the blockaded Gaza City, many of them unarmed citizens - children and old people.

Any number of times after receiving notice of the award, I asked myself whether traveling to Israel at a time like this and accepting a literary prize was the proper thing to do, whether this would create the impression that I supported one side in the conflict, that I endorsed the policies of a nation that chose to unleash its overwhelming military power. This is an impression, of course, that I would not wish to give. I do not approve of any war, and I do not support any nation. Neither, of course, do I wish to see my books subjected to a boycott.

Finally, however, after careful consideration, I made up my mind to come here. One reason for my decision was that all too many people advised me not to do it. Perhaps, like many other novelists, I tend to do the exact opposite of what I am told. If people are telling me - and especially if they are warning me - "don't go there," "don't do that," I tend to want to "go there" and "do that." It's in my nature, you might say, as a novelist. Novelists are a special breed. They cannot genuinely trust anything they have not seen with their own eyes or touched with their own hands.

And that is why I am here. I chose to come here rather than stay away. I chose to see for myself rather than not to see. I chose to speak to you rather than to say nothing.

This is not to say that I am here to deliver a political message. To make judgments about right and wrong is one of the novelist's most important duties, of course.

It is left to each writer, however, to decide upon the form in which he or she will convey those judgments to others. I myself prefer to transform them into stories - stories that tend toward the surreal. Which is why I do not intend to stand before you today delivering a direct political message.

Please do, however, allow me to deliver one very personal message. It is something that I always keep in mind while I am writing fiction. I have never gone so far as to write it on a piece of paper and paste it to the wall: Rather, it is carved into the wall of my mind, and it goes something like this:

"Between a high, solid wall and an egg that breaks against it, I will always stand on the side of the egg."

Yes, no matter how right the wall may be and how wrong the egg, I will stand with the egg. Someone else will have to decide what is right and what is wrong; perhaps time or history will decide. If there were a novelist who, for whatever reason, wrote works standing with the wall, of what value would such works be?

What is the meaning of this metaphor? In some cases, it is all too simple and clear. Bombers and tanks and rockets and white phosphorus shells are that high, solid wall. The eggs are the unarmed civilians who are crushed and burned and shot by them. This is one meaning of the metaphor.

This is not all, though. It carries a deeper meaning. Think of it this way. Each of us is, more or less, an egg. Each of us is a unique, irreplaceable soul enclosed in a fragile shell. This is true of me, and it is true of each of you. And each of us, to a greater or lesser degree, is confronting a high, solid wall. The wall has a name: It is The System. The System is supposed to protect us, but sometimes it takes on a life of its own, and then it begins to kill us and cause us to kill others - coldly, efficiently, systematically.

I have only one reason to write novels, and that is to bring the dignity of the individual soul to the surface and shine a light upon it. The purpose of a story is to sound an alarm, to keep a light trained on The System in order to prevent it from tangling our souls in its web and demeaning them. I fully believe it is the novelist's job to keep trying to clarify the uniqueness of each individual soul by writing stories - stories of life and death, stories of love, stories that make people cry and quake with fear and shake with laughter. This is why we go on, day after day, concocting fictions with utter seriousness.

My father died last year at the age of 90. He was a retired teacher and a part-time Buddhist priest. When he was in graduate school, he was drafted into the army and sent to fight in China. As a child born after the war, I used to see him every morning before breakfast offering up long, deeply-felt prayers at the Buddhist altar in our house. One time I asked him why he did this, and he told me he was praying for the people who had died in the war.

He was praying for all the people who died, he said, both ally and enemy alike. Staring at his back as he knelt at the altar, I seemed to feel the shadow of death hovering around him.

My father died, and with him he took his memories, memories that I can never know. But the presence of death that lurked about him remains in my own memory. It is one of the few things I carry on from him, and one of the most important.

I have only one thing I hope to convey to you today. We are all human beings, individuals transcending nationality and race and religion, fragile eggs faced with a solid wall called The System. To all appearances, we have no hope of winning. The wall is too high, too strong - and too cold. If we have any hope of victory at all, it will have to come from our believing in the utter uniqueness and irreplaceability of our own and others' souls and from the warmth we gain by joining souls together.

Take a moment to think about this. Each of us possesses a tangible, living soul. The System has no such thing. We must not allow The System to exploit us. We must not allow The System to take on a life of its own. The System did not make us: We made The System.

That is all I have to say to you.

I am grateful to have been awarded the Jerusalem Prize. I am grateful that my books are being read by people in many parts of the world. And I am glad to have had the opportunity to speak to you here today.

转自：總是和雞蛋站在同一邊：給現在和未來的自己，以及有一天會成為主人的你們。