The World Can See What Teens Do Online青少年網(wǎng)上所為皆在世人眼底

When Matthew McConaughey and his wife， Camila Alves McConaughey， took to Instagram to jointly announce a new venture， you might have expected it to be an upcoming film or a fledgling lifestyle brand1. Their news was more unusual： the unveiling of an official Instagram account for their son Levi， which they were giving to him on his 15th birthday， long after many of his friends had signed up， they noted.

當(dāng)馬修·麥康納和妻子卡米拉·阿爾維斯·麥康納在照片墻上共同宣布一項(xiàng)新計(jì)劃時(shí)，你可能會(huì)以為是某部即將上映的電影或是某個(gè)新興的生活方式品牌。但他們的消息更不尋常，他們公布了為兒子利維開(kāi)設(shè)的官方照片墻賬號(hào)——這是他們送給兒子的15歲生日禮物。他們寫(xiě)道，利維賬號(hào)的注冊(cè)時(shí)間比他許多朋友晚得多。

Celebrities have taken a wide array of approaches to granting their children access to social media—and thereby granting the public access to their children. One night the daughter of the filmmaker Sofia Coppola and the musician Thomas Mars sneaked onto TikTok—a site， she noted in the video， she was explicitly barred from using—to talk about being grounded for using her dad’s credit card to try to charter a helicopter. She wasn’t worried， though; as she notes in the video， “TikTok’s not going to make me famous.” As it turned out， she was mistaken.

名人們用各種方式讓孩子接觸社交媒體，從而也向公眾開(kāi)放了孩子的生活。某天晚上，電影制片人索菲婭·科波拉和音樂(lè)人托馬斯·馬爾斯夫婦的女兒偷偷登錄TikTok發(fā)了視頻（她在視頻中表示，父母明確禁止她使用該軟件），她說(shuō)自己因?yàn)樵噲D用父親的信用卡包租直升機(jī)而被禁足。但她并不擔(dān)心，因?yàn)樗谝曨l里說(shuō)“TikTok不會(huì)讓我出名”。結(jié)果證明，她錯(cuò)了。

Whenever such a moment happens， the internet reacts gleefully to a rare peek into the private lives of famous or fame-adjacent people. Who doesn’t love to watch people making embarrassing blunders online？ If the surreptitious peek happens to reveal something personal， private or embarrassing—well， the fault is theirs for posting it， right？ After all， the internet is public.

難得窺見(jiàn)名人或名人身邊人的隱私，這種事不論何時(shí)發(fā)生，網(wǎng)上總是一片雀躍。誰(shuí)不喜歡看別人在網(wǎng)上出糗犯錯(cuò)呢？如果剛好讓人偷窺到了某些個(gè)人的、私密的或令人尷尬的內(nèi)容——那也只能怪發(fā)布的人，對(duì)吧？畢竟，互聯(lián)網(wǎng)是公開(kāi)的。

Famous or not， teenagers today have never known a world without social media， so it’s easy to assume they just understand all the risks that come with making their personal lives public. But even for the most digitally savvy among us， it can be hard to conceptualize just what global visibility really means. This is especially true of teenagers， who are prone to risky behavior and bad judgment， and who are ill equipped to assess the potential impact of their actions. At a time when sites like TikTok have become the de facto way teenagers connect with friends， they’re much more likely to post a stray thought or embarrassing admission （or worse） with no consideration that it might end up capturing the attention of the world. I know this firsthand， because it happened to me.

無(wú)論是否出名，當(dāng)代青少年都生活在滿是社交媒體的世界，因此我們很容易以為他們確實(shí)知道公開(kāi)私生活的風(fēng)險(xiǎn)。但即使是我們之中最懂?dāng)?shù)字技術(shù)的人，也很難理解“全球可見(jiàn)”到底是怎么回事。尤其是青少年，他們往往冒險(xiǎn)行事，誤下判斷，不具備評(píng)估自身行為后果的能力。在TikTok等平臺(tái)已經(jīng)成為青少年交友標(biāo)配的今天，他們更容易發(fā)布一些隨想或?qū)擂巫园祝ɑ蚋愕膬?nèi)容），卻完全不考慮這樣做可能會(huì)引發(fā)世人的關(guān)注。這一點(diǎn)我有切身體會(huì)，因?yàn)槲揖驮?jīng)歷過(guò)。

In my own youth， way back at the turn of the millennium when I was an 18-year-old college student， I started sharing my personal life online. All of it. With the help of a webcam and a LiveJournal， I gave an audience access to every corner of my existence.

千禧年之交我正值18歲，年紀(jì)輕輕，還是個(gè)大學(xué)生，就開(kāi)始在網(wǎng)上分享自己的私人生活了。沒(méi)有任何保留。通過(guò)網(wǎng)絡(luò)攝像頭和實(shí)時(shí)日志博客，我把自己生活的每個(gè)角落都呈現(xiàn)在了公眾面前。

When I posted all of this stuff online， I technically understood that I was sharing the most intimate corners of my life with the public—that anyone could see what I had posted， even people I didn’t want to share it with. But on an emotional level， it was hard to comprehend just how public my posts actually were. My LiveJournal seemed obscure and hard to find， my webcam was locked behind a paywall， and I was sharing everything under a fake name. All of this helped me feel like the internet was my own private playground—one accessible to strangers but safely off limits to the people who actually knew me.

當(dāng)時(shí)在網(wǎng)上發(fā)布這些內(nèi)容時(shí)，嚴(yán)格來(lái)說(shuō)，我知道自己是在向大眾公開(kāi)生活中最私密的部分，任何人都能看到我的帖子，甚至包括我想回避的人。但在情感層面上，我卻難以弄明白這些內(nèi)容究竟有多少人會(huì)看到。我的實(shí)時(shí)日志博客似乎鮮為人知，也不容易被發(fā)現(xiàn)，上傳的視頻須付費(fèi)解鎖，分享時(shí)全部用了假名。這一切都讓我以為互聯(lián)網(wǎng)是我專(zhuān)屬的私人游樂(lè)場(chǎng)——陌生人可以進(jìn)來(lái)，但現(xiàn)實(shí)中認(rèn)識(shí)我的人絕對(duì)進(jìn)不來(lái)。

Of course， I was wrong， as I quickly learned. People I knew inevitably found my posts and they turned on me. Journal entries I’d seen as harmless recountings of college-age shenanigans were framed as hurtful gossip intended to sow discord and humiliate my peers. I may have been amassing a fan base， but it came at the expense of my real-life friends.

當(dāng)然，我很快發(fā)現(xiàn)自己錯(cuò)了。認(rèn)識(shí)我的人終究還是發(fā)現(xiàn)了那些帖子，并和我反目。那些我視作關(guān)于大學(xué)時(shí)代各種胡鬧的無(wú)害講述，被歪曲成刻意挑撥離間、羞辱同學(xué)的傷人閑話。我也許積累了一些粉絲，代價(jià)卻是失去了現(xiàn)實(shí)生活中的朋友。

In the social media age， teenagers are more likely to suffer the opposite delusion： that their friends can see them online but the world can’t， or won’t care if it does. Yet again and again they’re proved wrong on both counts. So far， the big-picture protective measures championed by adults to shield teenagers have been legislative： laws like Louisiana’s HB 142 and Utah’s SB 152 and HB 3112 that seek to limit kids’ access to the internet， either by mandating age verification for porn sites or imposing sharp restrictions on teenage social media use. But I don’t think we need to change the way teenagers interact with the internet. We need to change how the rest of us interact with online teenagers.

在社交媒體時(shí)代，青少年更容易陷入與我相反的錯(cuò)覺(jué)：以為網(wǎng)上只有朋友能看到自己，而世人要么看不見(jiàn)、要么不在意。但現(xiàn)實(shí)屢次證明他們想錯(cuò)了。迄今為止，從宏觀保護(hù)措施來(lái)說(shuō)，成年人一直倡導(dǎo)通過(guò)立法來(lái)保護(hù)青少年，比如路易斯安那州的142號(hào)眾議院議案和猶他州的152號(hào)參議院議案、311號(hào)眾議院議案等，通過(guò)強(qiáng)制色情網(wǎng)站進(jìn)行年齡驗(yàn)證或嚴(yán)控青少年使用社交媒體來(lái)限制孩子上網(wǎng)。但我認(rèn)為不需要改變青少年上網(wǎng)的方式，而需要改變我們與在線青少年互動(dòng)的方式。

Ms. Coppola’s daughter， for example， deleted her video shortly after it began to go viral. It lived on only because adults， ranging from private citizens to legitimate news organizations， saved it， reuploaded it， shared it， wrote about it and mocked it. After all， the internet is public， right？ That glib caveat may have started as a well-intentioned reminder for vulnerable users， but it has become a blanket justification for amplifying anything people find online， even if it’s been created by， or about， a child.

以科波拉的女兒為例，她的視頻走紅后她立刻就刪除了，但網(wǎng)上仍然流傳著這個(gè)視頻。這都是因?yàn)榇笕藗儯ㄆ胀ňW(wǎng)民和正規(guī)新聞媒體，把它保存了下來(lái)，再次上傳、轉(zhuǎn)發(fā)、報(bào)道，甚至嘲諷。畢竟互聯(lián)網(wǎng)是公開(kāi)的，對(duì)吧？這句脫口而出的勸告本來(lái)可能是對(duì)弱勢(shì)群體的好意提醒，如今卻成了肆意傳播網(wǎng)絡(luò)內(nèi)容的萬(wàn)能借口，哪怕是由兒童創(chuàng)作或關(guān)于兒童的內(nèi)容也不放過(guò)。

A kid clumsily practicing lightsaber moves？ If you saw it in person， it would barely be worth paying attention to， let alone alerting your friends， and pointing and laughing would seem obviously cruel and gross. Yet when a video like this was uploaded in 2003—around the time I was baring my soul to the world online—it quickly became one of the most viewed， and widely mocked， videos on the internet. In real life， we understand that teenagers deserve the space and privacy to be teenagers， free from mockery or public disdain. Why don’t we extend the same courtesy or display the same decency online？

一個(gè)孩子在笨拙地練習(xí)光劍動(dòng)作？如果你親眼看到，不會(huì)多加關(guān)注，更不會(huì)叫朋友來(lái)圍觀嘲笑，那樣做顯然刻薄又粗魯。但2003年（那時(shí)我還在網(wǎng)上向世人袒露心聲），這類(lèi)視頻一經(jīng)上傳很快就會(huì)成為網(wǎng)上觀看量最高、也最受嘲弄的視頻之一。現(xiàn)實(shí)中我們都明白，應(yīng)該給予青少年空間和隱私讓他們做自己，不該嘲笑或當(dāng)眾鄙視他們。為什么到了網(wǎng)上我們就丟了這份禮貌和得體呢？

The nonfamous among us can take a cue from the way celebrities approach this conundrum—after all， they have much more experience with the potentially scathing nature of the spotlight. Making a big deal of giving your child access to social media will， at the very least， help the kid understand that it’s a big step. One day that kid may make a public misstep. But the ultimate responsibility now lies with us， the people these kids encounter online， to give teenagers the space to explore their identities， to even make mistakes and mess up， without being party to their humiliation. We should be examples to them online， not perils lurking to pounce.

我們這些普通人可以向名人們學(xué)學(xué)怎么處理這種難題。畢竟，聚光燈下潛藏著嚴(yán)厲的批判，對(duì)此他們的體會(huì)要多得多。鄭重其事地讓孩子接觸社交媒體，至少能讓他們明白這事非同小可。將來(lái)某天他們可能會(huì)在眾目睽睽下犯錯(cuò)，但如今，我們——他們?cè)诰W(wǎng)上所遇到的成年人——應(yīng)擔(dān)起首要責(zé)任，給予青少年探索自我，甚至犯錯(cuò)、搞砸事情的空間，不要成為羞辱他們的幫兇。我們應(yīng)該成為他們的網(wǎng)絡(luò)榜樣，而不是藏在暗處，伺機(jī)向他們發(fā)難。

I’m fortunate that my own teenage mistakes happened when the internet was still relatively new. I never went truly viral， and the worst of the damage I experienced was confined to a relatively small blast radius. Yet 20 years later， I believe more than ever that we need to develop a new internet etiquette， one with a more nuanced understanding about what it means for anyone to post something in this “public” space. Teenagers especially deserve our consideration and our protection. If they post something mortifying， don’t repost. Don’t favorite. And definitely don’t download and repost. If you see it online， ask yourself what you’d do if you saw it in person. As we say to kids all the time： Make a better choice.

我很慶幸自己年少犯錯(cuò)時(shí)互聯(lián)網(wǎng)還處于萌芽期。我從未真正火起來(lái)，所受到的最重的傷害也相對(duì)有限。但20年之后，我比任何時(shí)候都確信，我們需要建立新的網(wǎng)絡(luò)禮儀，進(jìn)一步理解在這個(gè)“公共”空間發(fā)帖的意義。青少年格外需要我們的體恤和保護(hù)。如果看到他們發(fā)布了令人尷尬的內(nèi)容，別轉(zhuǎn)發(fā)，別點(diǎn)贊，更別下載后重新發(fā)布。問(wèn)問(wèn)自己，在網(wǎng)絡(luò)上看到的事如果發(fā)生在現(xiàn)實(shí)中，你會(huì)作何反應(yīng)。就像我們總對(duì)孩子說(shuō)的：做出更好的選擇。

（譯者為“《英語(yǔ)世界》杯”翻譯大賽獲獎(jiǎng)?wù)撸?/p>

1生活方式品牌與一般品牌的不同是，產(chǎn)品不再作為區(qū)分品牌的標(biāo)準(zhǔn)，而是憑品牌的理念和文化吸引并劃分出某個(gè)與此契合的消費(fèi)群體。消費(fèi)者對(duì)品牌價(jià)值文化的認(rèn)同感可以消除傳統(tǒng)產(chǎn)品之間的壁壘，使生活方式品牌容易在每一個(gè)獨(dú)立領(lǐng)域開(kāi)發(fā)產(chǎn)品和服務(wù)，繼而獲得良好的營(yíng)銷(xiāo)回報(bào)。

2 HB = House Bill眾議院議案，SB = Senate Bill參議院議案。bill主要指提交議會(huì)審議的“議案，提案，草案”，議會(huì)通過(guò)生效后，成為act（法，法律，法令）。