我很欣喜地在都柏林待了一周，正好碰上“布魯姆日”慶?；顒?dòng)，一年一度的“布魯姆日”是為了紀(jì)念20世紀(jì)文學(xué)巨匠詹姆斯·喬伊斯的現(xiàn)代主義名著《尤利西斯》。周末前我離開(kāi)了，但我探索了這座城，重走了布魯姆在小說(shuō)里走過(guò)的路，并對(duì)愛(ài)爾蘭的文學(xué)傳統(tǒng)給予了寬泛的思考，我想象著這個(gè)凱爾特人的島嶼，是如何在維護(hù)和傳播學(xué)術(shù)思想中發(fā)揮了與眾不同的重要作用，并讓這些學(xué)術(shù)思想最終成為了西方文明的基石。

在喬伊斯之前，愛(ài)爾蘭對(duì)世界文明已然重要，看看《凱蘭書(shū)卷》便知。這一愛(ài)爾蘭最珍貴的國(guó)寶，被存放在都柏林三一學(xué)院圖書(shū)館的負(fù)一層，房間內(nèi)燈光昏暗，裝飾復(fù)雜、牛皮頁(yè)面的書(shū)卷，攤開(kāi)在玻璃蓋頂?shù)恼故九_(tái)下。這一存本，展現(xiàn)了曾在幾個(gè)世紀(jì)里席卷愛(ài)爾蘭的波瀾壯闊的修道運(yùn)動(dòng)，它見(jiàn)證了羅馬帝國(guó)的衰亡，為后世保存了鮮活的文字、繪畫(huà)等藝術(shù)經(jīng)典。

多虧了愛(ài)爾蘭，否則很多拉丁文典籍將隨著歲月流轉(zhuǎn)而消失，或者被燒毀在野蠻人的篝火里。某種意義上說(shuō)，愛(ài)爾蘭是對(duì)古老世界的智慧和文字的一個(gè)存儲(chǔ)區(qū)，也是重塑文明的一個(gè)起點(diǎn)。一位名叫托馬斯·卡希爾的學(xué)者，在他暢銷了二十年的著作《愛(ài)爾蘭如何拯救了文明》中就闡述了這一點(diǎn)。（這本書(shū)值得一讀，盡管筆觸不夠生動(dòng)。）

在都柏林，我不禁思考起在信息安全的大背景下，該如何面對(duì)這個(gè)國(guó)家的文化遺產(chǎn)。沒(méi)有對(duì)數(shù)據(jù)的保存和保護(hù)，沒(méi)有對(duì)有價(jià)值的信息資產(chǎn)的保障，談什么網(wǎng)絡(luò)安全呢？在有服務(wù)器和機(jī)器設(shè)備之前，僧侶和修道院在干保護(hù)的事，而在有駭客之前，維京人和西哥特人在干掠奪的事。愛(ài)爾蘭人和它的書(shū)吏們，就是黑暗世紀(jì)里維護(hù)文明的些微燈火。

今日世界，工具將我們從繁瑣勞動(dòng)中解脫出來(lái)，它不斷復(fù)制和翻刻著帶有硅谷印記的各種知識(shí)，但那個(gè)從未消失的威脅——數(shù)據(jù)滅失和損壞——依舊存在。網(wǎng)絡(luò)世界也擠滿了掠奪者。

在這個(gè)布魯姆日，我們可以從愛(ài)爾蘭人那里學(xué)到有價(jià)值的一課，那就是：總是有備案。（財(cái)富中文網(wǎng)）

譯者：宣峰?

I had the pleasure of spending the week in Dublin, where Bloomsday festivities—the annual celebration of Ulysses, that modernist masterstroke of a novel by 20th century literary luminary James Joyce—are taking place. While I did not stay through the weekend, I did explore the city, retrace some of Bloom’s fictional footsteps, and generally ponder the Irish literary tradition—including the peculiarly essential role the Celtic island played in stewarding and disseminating a body of scholarship that would eventually serve as a foundation for western civilization.

Ireland’s importance to the world of letters extends well before Joyce. Look no further than the Book of Kells. This national treasure is stored a floor beneath the Long Hall library at Trinity College, where the illuminated, bound-vellum pages lay splayed under a glass-capped dais in a darkly-lit room. The relic exemplifies the extraordinary monastic movement that in ages past swept Ireland and kept alive texts, classical and otherwise, in the face of the Roman Empire’s collapse.

Were it not for the Irish, many Latin texts might have been lost to time—or burned in barbaric bonfires. In a sense, Ireland served as a restore point, a reboot for the inherited wisdom and writings of the ancient world. One Thomas Cahill, in fact, argued just this in his two-decade-old bestseller, How the Irish Saved Civilization. (It’s an engaging read, though it lacks nuance.)

In Dublin, I could not help but consider the country’s heritage in the context of information security. What is cybersecurity but the preservation and protection of data? The safeguarding of valuable info assets? Long before computer servers and machines, there were monks and monasteries. Before hackers there were Vikings and Visigoths. Ireland and its scribes were a rare beacon at the onset of the Dark Ages.

Today devices do much of the rote work for us—replicating and reproducing our silicon-inscribed knowledge—but the ever-present threat of data loss and corruption is no less real. Raiders swarm the wires.

On this Bloomsday, we can learn a valuable lesson by Ireland’s example: Always have a backup plan.