英语翻译谁知道的翻译?

英语翻译谁知道的翻译?
英语翻译
谁知道的翻译?

英语翻译谁知道的翻译?
空 中 楼 阁
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建立自己的国家并不通往繁荣,但建国事业却依然方兴未艾.
摩纳哥是一个能让冰岛看上去幅员辽阔的国家.这个袖珍的公国及其32000居民可以轻轻松松地放入纽约中央公园.凯萨林•赫本曾风趣地把塔比作“法国南部面颊上的一颗小疙瘩”.要不是世界上个梵蒂冈,这颗小疙瘩肯定是世界上最小的独立国家.
摩纳哥虽小,她却为那些梦想建立自己的国家的人们树立了榜样,使他们相信只要有智谋有毅力就一定能够成功.1297年,一位名叫法兰西斯科•哥利迈尔迪的热那亚冒险家夺得了这里的岩石海角.如今,他的子孙们已将这块不毛之地变成了一个闪耀着现代民族国家光彩的公国.摩纳哥有自己的国旗、发行自己的护照和邮票,还在联合国和欧洲议会拥有席位.漫步在这个公国,走过豪华的游艇和精心护理的花园,富足、繁荣的印象油然而生.
摩纳哥的成功没有逃过世人的注意.半个世纪以来,许许多多的人都在想模仿她的成功.建立国家方面的绝大多数成了毫无意义的折腾,有些几近荒谬,但也有一些却是严肃认真的.几位雄心勃勃的大人物已经为自己年幼的国家赢得自治,尽管这种自治是暂短的.随着真正国家数目的增多（1990年以来已经有30个国家诞生）,有些人就认为,这些“微型国家”合法地位最终会得到承认.
迄今不到200百年以前,新的国家还只能在无人认领的处女地建立.随着创立江山的冒险家、航海商人的去世,绝大多数微型王国、总督辖地和封建领地也逐渐退出历史舞台.不过,还有少数一直生存到20世纪.1827年在Cocos or Keeling 群岛上定居的克拉尼斯•罗斯家族一直坚持到1978年后裔将控制权交给澳大利亚政府为止.Cocos or Keeling 群岛是印度洋上一对与世隔绝的环状珊瑚岛.
如今,世界只剩下南极洲的一部分不受任何国家的主权管辖.因此,当代建国者的思维必须更加富有创造性.上世纪60、70年代,在国际水域建立国家的活动特别兴盛.比较笨拙的方案将浮动平台拼凑一起.1964年,蕾塞斯特尔•海明威（作家海明威的弟弟）在牙买加西海岸外建造这样一个平台.这个自封为新大西洋共和国的海上平台,为一家海洋研究协会提供场所,并协助保护牙买加的渔业.尽管也制造了自己的邮票,还主动与当时的美国总统约翰逊联系,但从未得到正式的承认.清扫垃圾的渔民和一场暴风雨给这个项目画上了句号.年轻的海明威划船离去,又在巴哈马附近建立了一个漂浮的国家,名叫特里德尔马尔.
其他一些满怀希望的统治者则通过在浅海区沉船,在暗礁或浅滩上建造房屋的途径制造岛屿.不过,除了米尼尔维共和国引起邻国警惕外,这些人工岛屿没有几个面积超过制图板的.米尼尔维共和国是拉斯韦加斯的自由主义活动家麦克•奥利佛的非凡构想.她创立于1971年,领土是在米尼尔维暗礁填沙得来的.米尼尔维暗礁位于南太平洋汤加王国西南约500公里.第二年即宣布独立,并在人造岛屿上建了一座小镇.汤加得到风声,立即派遣了一支象征性的占领军,吞并米尼尔维. 后来,南太平洋论坛对汤加拥有主权予以承认.不久,这座沙岛就沉没在茫茫的海涛里.
还有一些初出茅庐的统治者也许更明智一些,他们以孟加拉国为榜样,走脱离的道路.不过,这些微型反抗行为大多可以归纳为哗众取宠的,真正意图并不在建国.英国最著名的分离主义者是一位名叫理查得•布斯的书商.1977年,布斯宣布自己为威尔士海昂维伊村的国王,并将自己的爱马任命为首相.这个非同寻常的举措使海昂维伊村成为地图上的“书城”.如今,这里依然有可观的护照、政府卷宗、汽车牌照和“官方”头衔的交易.
短命的康崎共和国同样具有喜剧色彩.1982年美国政府为了阻断毒品走私和非法入境,在连接佛罗里达暗礁与大陆之间的高速公路上设置了一个路障,康崎共和国应运而生.独立的人们模仿喜剧《愤怒的老鼠》,向美国正式宣战,然后立刻宣布投降并申请10亿美元的外国援助.这一行动赢得了公众的同情,路障随即被拆除.由此看来,即便是半心半意的分离也会带来好处.
如开始不采取分离的策略.
延续时间最长的分离主义微型国家为西澳大利亚的哈特河省公国.位于西澳首府珀斯以北595公里这个公国,起源于1970年的一场小麦生产份额争执.农场主列纳德•卡斯勒采取非常措施,宣布自己的土地独立,并自封为列纳德一世王子. 澳大利亚政府拒绝承认列纳德的独立要求,但这种态度并不能吓倒并禁止列纳德和他的臣民.哈特河省公国已经发行了200种硬币和多套纸币,还访问者颁发护照,目前已宣称有13000多海外公民,在几个国家建立了外国领事馆.2005年,哈特河省公国还向卡特里纳飓风受灾人民提供援助.
另一些满怀希望的统治者却一头扎入历史,在古纸堆里寻找立国的法律先例和例外依据.赛堡尔加是意大利阿尔脾斯山区的一个村庄,村民将自己的遗产一直追溯到中世纪.当时该村是神圣罗马帝国的一个公国.后来,在一系列条约,包括1861年意大利的统一法,却将赛堡尔加疏漏了.如今,赛堡尔加的350多个居民宣称自己生活的村子是一个主权国家.与其他微型国家一样,赛堡尔加也自个铸造货币,出售邮票,发行护照.意大利似乎并不在意此事,只要赛堡尔加人缴纳税金,遵守意大利法律.
赛堡尔加人选举王子,当今王子为基奥尔基奥一世.在世界的另一侧,引起争议的是加勒比海小岛里东达的王国资格（此岛为安提瓜和巴布达,后者本身就是一个小国）. 僭王们的独立主张可以追溯到1865年, 当时一个名叫马太•多迪•希尔的海上商人登上这座无人的小岛上,并宣布此岛为他的王国.希尔看上了这里蕴藏丰富的硅酸盐,希望英国政府予以吞并.1947年,国王的头衔传到希尔家族以外,至少有两群人争夺王位, 他们都要求（有些并不真正要求）里东达独立.其中最著名的是一位名叫珈维尔•马里亚斯的西班牙小说家.他发表了多部关于里东达的书籍,还给里东达起了许多鲜明、响亮的名称.
锡兰公国被许多人认为是世界上最为成功的微型国家,她之所以可以生存,在于人们认定的法律漏洞.1967年,一个名叫帕蒂•罗伊•贝茨的前英国陆军少校在英吉利海峡占据了一个被人遗弃的防空塔, 就此成立了锡兰公国.“罗伊王子”宣称,在占领之前,防空塔不在任何国家主权范围之内,由于位于英国领海之外,也不属于英国政府.一连串的法律纠纷反倒巩固了他的统治法理.现在,英国领海扩大后已经将锡兰包括在内（英国政府拒绝承认它的独立地位）,这个公国却依旧安然无恙.
然而,要将这个地方变为生财福地却被证明是相当艰难的.计划将这个网球场大小的塔扩大成一个3英里长的岛屿,建造机场和博采设施的努力却一次又一次的泡汤.最近的计划是提供安全的不受任何政府干扰的网络设施,同样也没有成功.
锡兰异常曲折的历史对热衷于建国的人是一种警告.1978年在击退敌对的海盗电台运营者后,防空塔被一个德国商人占据,企图利用此地逃避税收.一些江湖骗子还造出锡兰护照.在调查1997年的詹尼•范思哲谋杀案中就出现过一份这样的护照,这种行为促使锡兰统治者立刻决定废除所有15万份护照.
虚拟皇家
由于这样和那样的原因,大多数新的国家从网上开始起步.没有人能说清楚虚拟世界到底存在多少个国家,但数目之多足以形成至少两个超国家组织.绝大多数虚拟国家不过是一些幻想或自欺欺人的游戏,但确有一部分国家具有与其虚拟特性相符的复杂和认真.最有名的是塔洛萨王国.由一个名叫罗伯特•本•曼蒂森的学生建立,1979年从其卧室移到因特网.目前,通过许多相互敌对的网址而存在.塔洛萨王国有自己的语言、政府、文字历史、法律、组织和公民,看上去与一个真实的国家相差无几.这种事物能成为真实的国家吗? 几年前,一个具有强烈自由主义主张、名叫弗里多尼亚（Freedonia）的网上公国公开地努力在索马里兰获取土地.其他虚拟国家则乐观地认为总有一天他们的国家会受到与真实世界上的国家一样的承认.
然而,真实世界到底有什么精彩的?即便是脱离虚拟空间,微型国家的生存也是很缉艰难的.除了摩纳哥外,大多数新建的微型国家经济落后、机构虚弱,存在大堆社会问题.2005年早些时候世界银行与英联邦秘书处联合出版的有关发展中小国家的报告指出,过去5年来微型国家的问题成倍增加.
脱掉外表,摩纳哥也会失去其光彩.在大的邻国眼里,她不过是做一些见不得人的生意的避风港而已.她被承认的独立很容易使人产生幻觉的.近年来,摩纳哥是在“遵循法兰西共和国基本利益”前提下行使主权的.从1963年起,这里居住的法国公民已不能再逃避法国的税务.11月19日当摩纳哥新的王子阿尔伯特二世加冕时,出席的国家元首只有冰岛总统.有时候留在因特网舒服环境里也许会获得更大的尊严.

译自2005年12月20日英国《经济学家》
http://www.economist.com/world/displaystory.cfm?story_id=5323713&no_na_tran=1
Castles in the air
Dec 20th 2005
From The Economist print edition
Starting your own country is no path to prosperity, but it remains popular
MONACO is a country that makes Iceland look huge: the tiny principality and its 32,000 residents would fit comfortably inside New York's Central Park. Katharine Hepburn aptly called the place a “pimple on the chin of the south of France”. Were it not for the Vatican, this pimple would be the world's smallest independent state.
Tiny it may be, but for those who dream of founding their own country Monaco stands as an example of what cunning and tenacity can achieve. Seized in 1297 by a Genoan adventurer, Francesco Grimaldi, the rocky promontory has been transformed by his descendants into a principality that flaunts the trappings of a modern nation-state: it has its own flag, passports and stamps, and seats at the United Nations and the Council of Europe. Stroll around the place—past luxury yachts and manicured gardens—and the impression is one of contented prosperity.
Monaco's achievement has not gone unnoticed. Over the past half-century many people have tried to ape its success. Most of these stabs at nationhood have been frivolous and some crackpot. But a handful have been serious, and a few aspiring Poo-Bahs have won some autonomy for their fledgling states, albeit briefly. With the number of real countries increasing—30 have sprung to life since 1990 alone—some people think one of these “micronations” could eventually be accepted as a legitimate state.
Less than two centuries ago, new nations could still be staked out on terra incognita. Most of these mini-kingdoms, satrapies and private fiefdoms died along with the adventurers and sea-traders who founded them. But some survived into the 20th century. The Clunies-Ross family, who in 1827 settled the Cocos or Keeling Islands—a pair of isolated coral atolls in the Indian Ocean—held on to them until 1978 when a descendant ceded control to the Australian government.
With only a portion of Antarctica now lying unclaimed, recent nation-builders have had to think more creatively. Attempts at founding states in international waters were particularly popular in the 1960s and 1970s. The more hare-brained schemes involved cobbling together floating platforms. Leicester Hemingway (Ernest's younger brother) did just this off the west coast of Jamaica in 1964. Dubbed the Republic of New Atlantis, the platform was created to house a marine-research society and to help protect Jamaican fishing. Official recognition of the place never came, despite the minting of some stamps and an approach to Lyndon Johnson (America's president at the time). Scavenging fishermen and a big storm put an end to the project, so the younger Hemingway paddled off to found another floating country, named Tierra del Mar, near the Bahamas.
Other aspiring rulers tried to make islands by sinking ships in shallow water or building on reefs and shoals. Few of these got beyond the drawing board, though the Republic of Minerva made enough progress to alarm the neighbours. The brainchild of a Las Vegas-based libertarian activist, Michael Oliver, the tiny republic was created in 1971 by dumping sand on the Minerva Reefs, which lie about 500km (310 miles) south-west of the South Pacific kingdom of Tonga. Independence was proclaimed the next year and a small tower constructed on the emerging island. But Tonga got wind of the project and dispatched a token occupying force that annexed the place—a claim later recognised by the South Pacific Forum. The sandy island sank beneath the waves soon afterwards.
Perhaps wisely, other budding rulers have followed Bangladesh's example and seceded. Most of these micro-revolts can be classed as publicity stunts, with little real intention of founding an independent state. Britain's best-known secessionist is a bookseller named Richard Booth, who in 1977 declared himself king—and his horse prime minister—of the Welsh village of Hay-on-Wye. This unusual step helped put Hay on the map as a “town of books”. Today, it still accounts for a healthy trade in passports, government scrolls, car stickers and “official” titles.
Comedy also marked the short-lived Conch Republic which came into existence in 1982 when the American government, in a move to staunch drug-trafficking and illegal immigration, set up a roadblock on the highway connecting the Florida Keys to the mainland. By declaring war on America, then promptly surrendering and applying for $1 billion of foreign aid—a ploy borrowed from “The Mouse that Roared”, a comedy starring Peter Sellers—the Republic's residents won public sympathy for their plight and the roadblock was removed. Even seceding half-heartedly, it seems, can have benefits.
If at first you don't secede . . .
The longest-running secessionist micronation is the Hutt River Province Principality in Western Australia. Nestling 595km north of Perth, it arose from a dispute in 1970 over wheat quotas. Leonard Casley, a farmer, took the unusual step of declaring his property independent and styled himself Prince Leonard I. Australia's government refuses to recognise Mr Casley's claim, but this has not deterred him or his subjects. The principality has issued over 200 types of coins and a few banknotes. By doling out passports to visitors, it also claims 13,000 overseas citizens and has foreign consuls in a smattering of countries. Earlier this year it extended an offer of assistance to the victims of Hurricane Katrina.
Other prospective rulers have delved into history for an anomaly or legal precedent on which to base their claims. Seborga, a village in the Italian Alps, traces its heritage to medieval times when it became a principality of the Holy Roman Empire. Subsequently omitted from a succession of treaties—including Italy's Act of Unification of 1861—its 350-odd residents today claim to live in a sovereign state. Like other micronations, Seborga mints its own currency (the Luigino), sells stamps and issues passports. The Italian government does not seem to mind, so long as the Seaborgans pay their taxes and respect Italian laws.
The Seborgans elect their prince, currently Giorgio I. On the other side of the world, the kingship of the tiny Caribbean island of Redonda—part of Antigua and Barbuda, itself one of the world's smallest countries—is disputed. The pretenders' claims stem from 1865 when Matthew Dowdy Shiell, a sea-trader, landed on the uninhabited island and declared it his kingdom, only for the British government—with an eye on its rich phosphate deposits—to annex the place. The title passed out of the Shiell family in 1947 and is contested by at least two groups who argue, not in all seriousness, for Redonda's independence. Foremost among them is a Spanish novelist, Javier Marìas, who has published books about Redonda and bestowed Redondan titles on luminaries including Francis Ford Coppola, Pedro Almodóvar and A.S. Byatt.
What many consider to be the world's most successful micronation exists thanks to a supposed legal loophole. Founded by a former British army major named Paddy Roy Bates in 1967, the Principality of Sealand occupies an abandoned anti-aircraft tower in the English Channel. “Prince Roy” asserts that because the tower was derelict and lay outside British territorial waters when it was occupied, the British government has no claim. A handful of legal skirmishes have strengthened his hand. Although British territorial waters have been extended and now include Sealand—and the British government refuses to recognise its claim—the principality continues to exist unmolested.
But turning the place into a source of income has proved hard. Plans to enlarge the tennis-court-sized tower into a three-mile-long islan with an airport and gambling complex fell through. So, more recently, did a deal to provide a secure, offshore web-hosting facility free of government interference.
Sealand's turbulent history stands as a warning to nation-builders. Having repelled attacks by rival pirate-radio operators, in 1978 the tower was temporarily captured by a German businessman intent on using the place as a tax haven. Crooks have forged its passports (one of which turned up in the investigation into Gianni Versace's murder in 1997), which prompted Sealand's rulers to revoke all 150,000 of them.
Virtual royalty
For this and other reasons most new countries now start online. How many such virtual states exist is impossible to say, but there are enough to have formed at least two supranational organisations. Most virtual countries are little more than exercises in fantasy or self-aggrandisement. Yet some boast a complexity and seriousness that belies their virtual nature. Best-known is the Kingdom of Talossa. Founded by a schoolboy, Robert Ben Madison, in 1979, Talossa migrated from his bedroom to the internet, where it now exists in the form of a number of rival websites. With its own language, government, written history, laws, constitution and citizens, Talossa looks surprisingly like a real place. Could such a thing become a bona fide country? A few years ago Freedonia, an online principality with libertarian pretensions, apparently tried to acquire land in Somaliland. Other virtual states optimistically think that they will one day be recognised alongside real-world ones.
But what is so wonderful about the real world? Life for small countries is tough even if they do escape cyberspace. Unlike Monaco, most are recent creations with poorly developed economies, weak institutions and a large helping of social problems. A report on developing small states published earlier this year by the World Bank and the Commonwealth Secretariat found their problems had multiplied over the past five years.
Peel back the veneer and even Monaco loses its shine. Larger neighbours regard it as merely a haven for dodgy business dealings. And its professed independence is largely illusory. These days Monaco exercises its sovereignty “in accordance with the fundamental interests of the French Republic”, and its French residents have been unable to evade the French taxman since 1963. When Monaco's new prince, Albert II, was enthroned on November 19th, the only head of state to attend was the president of Iceland. Sometimes it may be more dignified to stay within the cosy confines of the internet.