The First World War represented a terrifying waste of youth and potential， a cruel squandering of the positive forces of our planet. The poetry of that era has a special significance for me because I first read it at a time when I was the same age as many of those young men who had to face the prospect of withering before they had barely blossomed. A young American fighting with the French Foreign Legion wrote before he was killed in action in 1916 that he would meet his death： “At some disputed barricade；” “on some scarred slope of battered hill；” “at midnight in some flaming town.” Youth and love and life perishing forever in senseless attempts to capture nameless， unremembered places. And for what？ Nearly a century on， we have yet to find a satisfactory answer.
Are we not still guilty， if to a less violent degree， of recklessness， of improvidence with regard to our future and our humanity？ War is not the only arena where peace is done to death. Wherever suffering is ignored， there will be the seeds of conflict， for suffering degrades and embitters and enrages.
We are fortunate to be living in an age when social welfare and humanitarian assistance are recognized not only as desirable but necessary. I am fortunate to be living in an age when the fate of prisoners of conscience anywhere has become the concern of peoples everywhere， an age when democracy and human rights are widely， even if not universally， accepted as the birthright of all. How often during my years under house arrest have I drawn strength from my favourite passages in the preamble to the Universal Declaration of Human Rights：
Disregard and contempt for human rights have resulted in barbarous acts which have outraged the conscience of mankind， and the advent of a world in which human beings shall enjoy freedom of speech and belief and freedom from fear and want has been proclaimed as the highest aspirations of the common people.It is essential， if man is not to be compelled to have recourse， as a last resort， to rebellion against tyranny and oppression， that human rights should be protected by the rule of law …
If I am asked why I am fighting for human rights in Burma the above passages will provide the answer. If I am asked why I am fighting for democracy in Burma， it is because I believe that democratic institutions and practices are necessary for the guarantee of human rights.
Over the past year there have been signs that the endeavours of those who believe in democracy and human rights are beginning to bear fruit in Burma. There have been changes in a positive direction； steps towards democratization have been taken. If I advocate cautious optimism it is not because I do not have faith in the future but because I do not want to encourage blind faith. Without faith in the future， without the conviction that democratic values and fundamental human rights are not only necessary but possible for our society， our movement could not have been sustained throughout the destroying years. Some of our warriors fell at their post， some deserted us， but a dedicated core remained strong and committed. At times when I think of the years that have passed， I am amazed that so many remained staunch under the most trying circumstances. Their faith in our cause is not blind； it is based on a clear-eyed assessment of their own powers of endurance and a profound respect for the aspirations of our people.
The peace of our world is indivisible. As long as negative forces are getting the better of positive forces anywhere， we are all at risk. It may be questioned whether all negative forces could ever be removed. The simple answer is： “No！” It is in human nature to contain both the positive and the negative. However， it is also within human capability to work to reinforce the positive and to minimize or neutralize the negative. Absolute peace in our world is an unattainable goal. But it is one towards which we must continue to journey， our eyes fixed on it as a traveller in a desert fixes his eyes on the one guiding star that will lead him to salvation. Even if we do not achieve perfect peace on earth， because perfect peace is not of this earth， common endeavours to gain peace will unite individuals and nations in trust and friendship and help to make our human community safer and kinder.
很多年前，或者说有时感觉似乎是几辈子之前，我在牛津和我的幼子亚历山大一起收听广播节目《荒岛唱片》。这是一个非常着名的节目（据我所知如今依然是），在节目中，来自各行各业的着名人物受访，要求他们谈谈如果他们被放逐到一个荒岛上，那么他们会随身携带哪八张音乐唱片，以及除了《圣经》和《莎士比亚全集》之外的一本书与一件奢侈物品。我们俩都很喜欢这次的节目。在节目结束的时候，亚历山大问我，我是否想过自己会被邀请参加《荒岛唱片》的访谈。我回答道：“为什么不呢？”他知道一般受邀人士都是明星人物，因此他带着孩子天真的好奇心，继续问道，我认为自己会因为什么原因受到邀请。我思考片刻，回答他说：“也许是因为我获得了诺贝尔文学奖。”然后，我们俩都开怀大笑。这样的愿景令人高兴，但几乎是完全不可能实现的。
1989年，在我第一次被软禁期间，我的丈夫迈克尔·艾瑞斯在探望我时告诉我，我们的朋友约翰·费尼斯提名我为诺贝尔和平奖候选者。那次，我同样对此一笑置之。当时迈克尔似乎感到有点惊讶，但他很快明白我为何对此看得如此轻松。诺贝尔和平奖？听起来很不错，但基本上不大可能！那么当我最终真的获此殊荣之时，我是如何想的呢？我曾多次对自己提出这个问题。毫无疑问，今天在此地，正是检讨诺贝尔奖对我以及和平对我而言意味着什么的最好场合。
在我遭受软禁期间，我感觉自己似乎不再是真实世界的一部分。我所住的房子就是我的整个世界，但他人的世界同样并不自由，他们所共同生活的世界就像是一个更大的监狱。在此之外，则是一个更大的自由的世界。这些不同的世界，似乎每个都是这个冷漠宇宙的不同星球，运转在各自彼此不相连的轨道上。而诺贝尔和平奖所带来的，是再一次将我与软禁区域之外的世界的人们连接起来，从而使我重获一种现实感。当然，这一切并不是即刻发生的，而是随着时间的流逝，更多关于这次授奖决定的反应的新闻报道，透过电波纷至沓来，那时我才开始理解和平奖的重大意义。它使我再次变得真实；它将我再次拉回到更为广大的人类共同体之中。更为重要的是，诺贝尔和平奖把全世界的目光引向缅甸民主和人权斗争的事业。我们不会被世界遗忘。
法谚有云，分别意味着我们的一部分死亡了。被遗忘同样意味着我们的一部分死亡了。它意味着失去与周遭人类世界的联系。在我最近访问泰国的时候，许多在当地务工和避难的缅甸人对我大声呼喊：“不要忘记我们！”他们实际是在说：“不要忘记我们的苦难，不要忘记尽你所能帮助我们！不要忘记我们同样是这个世界的一部分！”诺委会授予我和平奖的时候，实际上他们是在向这个世界表明，那些遭受压迫和孤立的缅甸人民同样是这个世界的一部分，他们同样是在向这个世界宣称，我们拥有普世的人性。因此对我个人来说，获此殊荣意味着我对民主和人权的关注超越了国界。诺贝尔和平奖在我的内心打开了一扇门。
第一次世界大战带来了令人恐惧的对青春和才智的浪费，对我们这个世界的积极力量的残忍毁灭。那个时代的诗歌对我来说意义非凡，因为当我第一次读到这些诗歌的时候，我与那些面临含苞待放却即刻就要枯萎的人生前景的青年们处于相仿的年纪。一位参与法国外籍兵团作战的美国士兵，在1916年的一次战斗中牺牲之前，他这样写道，他即将面对自己的死亡，“在某个争斗的要塞”，“在某个瘢痕累累的激战的山坡上”，或是“在大火纷飞的小镇的午夜时分”。青春、爱和生命，为了夺取无名的、不会被人铭记的地方而作无谓的战斗，永远地凋谢、毁灭。这样的牺牲意义何在？一个世纪以来，我们依然需要为此找到令人满意的回答。
即便是不那么暴力的层次上，难道我们就不应当为我们自己在关涉到我们未来和人性的问题上所采取的轻率而无远见的立场和行为而感到罪恶吗？战争并不是唯一毁灭和平希望的方式。只要人类所遭受的苦难被漠视，那里就埋下了冲突的种子，因为苦难使人沮丧、积累仇恨和愤怒。
