In biology class we were taught that evolution takes generations. A genetic mutation(突变，变异), by contrast, can occur within a single generation. Last week, during a tour of the West Bank, I witnessed such a mutation taking shape. I saw a young Palestinian man—for his and his family’s security, let us call him Ali—who had never concerned himself with politics, never joined any organisation, never demonstrated for national rights, never held a weapon. I saw a man wholly focused on earning a living and providing for his family, now on the verge of becoming a fighter, perhaps even a shahid(殉道者) (martyr).
在生物课上，我们学到进化需要几代人的时间。相比之下，基因突变可以在单一代际内发生。上周，在约旦河西岸的一次访问中，我目睹了这样一个突变正在形成。我看到一个年轻的巴勒斯坦人——为了他和家人的安全，我们称他为阿里——他从未关心过政治，从未加入任何组织，从未为民族权利示威，从未持有武器。我看到一个完全专注于谋生和养家糊口的人，如今却濒临成为一名战士，甚至可能成为一名 shahid（殉道者）。
Even though nothing in his words or conduct betrayed any intention on his part to change course(改变方向，改变做法), hearing him speak—quietly, chillingly calm—and seeing the helplessness, I could not but(不得不，不禁) fear for the next chapter of his life.
尽管他的言语或行为中没有任何迹象表明他有意改变方向，但听到他说话——平静、令人不寒而栗的冷静——并看到那种无助，我不禁为他生命的下一章感到担忧。
During the visit I met others too. It is quite possible that some of what I attribute to Ali, I heard from them. However, Ali is merely a parable(寓言，比喻) for what is unfolding a 40-minute drive from home.
在访问中，我也见到了其他人。很可能我归因于阿里的有些话是从他们那里听到的。然而，阿里只是一个寓言，象征着距离我家40分钟车程范围内正在发生的事情。