http://puzzle-english.com/video/reagan
- Статья «ВВС» Americanisms: 50 of your most noted examples
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-14201796
ПРИЛОЖЕНИЕ № 2
Некоторые
примеры американизмов из статьи «ВВС»
«Americanisms:
50 of your most noted examples»,
которые вызывают убританцев
самые противоречивые чувства (http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-14201796)
the least worst option - наименьшее из зол
24/7 - всегда / 24 часа в сутки, семь дней в неделю / круглосуточно и ежедневно
to wait on - ожидать (брит.англ. to wait for)
it is what it is - как есть, так есть (ничего не изменишь)
shopping cart - тележка для покупок (брит.англ. - shopping trolley)
to touch base - связаться с к-л., контактировать
a half hour - полчаса (брит.англ. - half an hour)
heads up - предупреждение или уведомление (как правило, заблаговременное)
my bad - моя ошибка, моя вина (брит.англ. - my fault)
biweekly - раз в две недели; дважды в неделю
hike - скачок или подъем (например, price hikes - многократный и внезапный рост цен); значение в брит.англ. - прогулка, путешествие
eaterie, eatery - ресторан (в том числе быстрого питания), кафе
to medal - выиграть или завоевать медаль
winningest - рекордсмен по количеству побед
to get smth. for free - получить ч-л. бесплатно (брит.англ. - to get smth. free)
ПРИЛОЖЕНИЕ № 3
Речь
президента США Барака Обамы
на
вручении Нобелевской премии Мира
A Just
and Lasting Peace
Your Majesties, Your Royal Highnesses, distinguished
members of the Norwegian Nobel Committee, citizens of America, and citizens
of the world:
I receive this honor with deep gratitude and great
humility. It is an award that speaks to our highest aspirations –
that for all the cruelty and hardship of our world, we are not mere
prisoners of fate. Our actions matter, and can bend history in the direction
of justice
And yet I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge
the considerable controversy that your generous decision has generated.
(Laughter.) In part, this is because I am at the beginning, and not
the end, of my labors on the world stage. Compared to some of the giants
of history who've received this prize – Schweitzer and King; Marshall
and Mandela – my accomplishments are slight. And then there are the
men and women around the world who have been jailed and beaten in the
pursuit of justice; those who toil in humanitarian organizations to
relieve suffering; the unrecognized millions whose quiet acts of courage
and compassion inspire even the most hardened cynics. I cannot argue
with those who find these men and women – some known, some obscure
to all but those they help – to be far more deserving of this honor
than I.
But perhaps the most profound issue surrounding my
receipt of this prize is the fact that I am the Commander-in-Chief of
the military of a nation in the midst of two wars. One of these wars
is winding down. The other is a conflict that America did not seek;
one in which we are joined by 42 other countries – including Norway
– in an effort to defend ourselves and all nations from further attacks.
Still, we are at war, and I'm responsible for the
deployment of thousands of young Americans to battle in a distant land.
Some will kill, and some will be killed. And so I come here with an
acute sense of the costs of armed conflict – filled with difficult
questions about the relationship between war and peace, and our effort
to replace one with the other.
Now these questions are not new. War, in one form
or another, appeared with the first man. At the dawn of history, its
morality was not questioned; it was simply a fact, like drought or disease
– the manner in which tribes and then civilizations sought power and
settled their differences.
And over time, as codes of law sought to control
violence within groups, so did philosophers and clerics and statesmen
seek to regulate the destructive power of war. The concept of a "just
war" emerged, suggesting that war is justified only when certain
conditions were met: if it is waged as a last resort or in self-defense;
if the force used is proportional; and if, whenever possible, civilians
are spared from violence.
Of course, we know that for most of history, this
concept of "just war" was rarely observed. The capacity of
human beings to think up new ways to kill one another proved inexhaustible,
as did our capacity to exempt from mercy those who look different or
pray to a different God. Wars between armies gave way to wars between
nations – total wars in which the distinction between combatant and
civilian became blurred. In the span of 30 years, such carnage would
twice engulf this continent. And while it's hard to conceive of a cause
more just than the defeat of the Third Reich and the Axis powers, World
War II was a conflict in which the total number of civilians who died
exceeded the number of soldiers who perished.
In the wake of such destruction, and with the advent
of the nuclear age, it became clear to victor and vanquished alike that
the world needed institutions to prevent another world war. And so,
a quarter century after the United States Senate rejected the League
of Nations – an idea for which Woodrow Wilson received this prize
– America led the world in constructing an architecture to keep the
peace: a Marshall Plan and a United Nations, mechanisms to govern the
waging of war, treaties to protect human rights, prevent genocide, restrict
the most dangerous weapons.
In many ways, these efforts succeeded. Yes, terrible
wars have been fought, and atrocities committed. But there has been
no Third World War. The Cold War ended with jubilant crowds dismantling
a wall. Commerce has stitched much of the world together. Billions have
been lifted from poverty. The ideals of liberty and self-determination,
equality and the rule of law have haltingly advanced. We are the heirs
of the fortitude and foresight of generations past, and it is a legacy
for which my own country is rightfully proud.
And yet, a decade into a new century, this old architecture
is buckling under the weight of new threats. The world may no longer
shudder at the prospect of war between two nuclear superpowers, but
proliferation may increase the risk of catastrophe. Terrorism has long
been a tactic, but modern technology allows a few small men with outsized
rage to murder innocents on a horrific scale.
Moreover, wars between nations have increasingly
given way to wars within nations. The resurgence of ethnic or sectarian
conflicts; the growth of secessionist movements, insurgencies, and failed
states – all these things have increasingly trapped civilians in unending
chaos. In today's wars, many more civilians are killed than soldiers;
the seeds of future conflict are sown, economies are wrecked, civil
societies torn asunder, refugees amassed, children scarred.
I do not bring with me today a definitive solution
to the problems of war. What I do know is that meeting these challenges
will require the same vision, hard work, and persistence of those men
and women who acted so boldly decades ago. And it will require us to
think in new ways about the notions of just war and the imperatives
of a just peace.
We must begin by acknowledging the hard truth: We
will not eradicate violent conflict in our lifetimes. There will be
times when nations – acting individually or in concert – will find
the use of force not only necessary but morally justified.
I make this statement mindful of what Martin Luther
King Jr. said in this same ceremony years ago: "Violence never
brings permanent peace. It solves no social problem: it merely creates
new and more complicated ones." //2// As someone who stands here
as a direct consequence of Dr. King's life work, I am living testimony
to the moral force of non-violence. I know there's nothing weak –
nothing passive – nothing naive – in the creed and lives of Gandhi
and King.
But as a head of state sworn to protect and defend
my nation, I cannot be guided by their examples alone. I face the world
as it is, and cannot stand idle in the face of threats to the American
people. For make no mistake: Evil does exist in the world. A non-violent
movement could not have halted Hitler's armies. Negotiations cannot
convince al Qaeda's leaders to lay down their arms. To say that force
may sometimes be necessary is not a call to cynicism – it is a recognition
of history; the imperfections of man and the limits of reason.
I raise this point, I begin with this point because
in many countries there is a deep ambivalence about military action
today, no matter what the cause. And at times, this is joined by a reflexive
suspicion of America, the world's sole military superpower.
But the world must remember that it was not simply
international institutions – not just treaties and declarations –
that brought stability to a post-World War II world. Whatever mistakes
we have made, the plain fact is this: The United States of America has
helped underwrite global security for more than six decades with the
blood of our citizens and the strength of our arms. The service and
sacrifice of our men and women in uniform has promoted peace and prosperity
from Germany to Korea, and enabled democracy to take hold in places
like the Balkans. We have borne this burden not because we seek to impose
our will. We have done so out of enlightened self-interest – because
we seek a better future for our children and grandchildren, and we believe
that their lives will be better if others' children and grandchildren
can live in freedom and prosperity.
So yes, the instruments of war do have a role to
play in preserving the peace. And yet this truth must coexist with another
– that no matter how justified, war promises human tragedy. The soldier's
courage and sacrifice is full of glory, expressing devotion to country,
to cause, to comrades in arms. But war itself is never glorious, and
we must never trumpet it as such.
So part of our challenge is reconciling these two
seemingly inreconcilable truths – that war is sometimes necessary,
and war at some level is an expression of human folly. Concretely, we
must direct our effort to the task that President Kennedy called for
long ago. "Let us focus," he said, "on a more practical,
more attainable peace, based not on a sudden revolution in human nature
but on a gradual evolution in human institutions." A gradual evolution
of human institutions.
What might this evolution look like? What might these
practical steps be?
To begin with, I believe that all nations – strong
and weak alike – must adhere to standards that govern the use of force.
I – like any head of state – reserve the right to act unilaterally
if necessary to defend my nation. Nevertheless, I am convinced that
adhering to standards, international standards, strengthens those who
do, and isolates and weakens those who don't.
The world rallied around America after the 9/11 attacks,
and continues to support our efforts in Afghanistan, because of the
horror of those senseless attacks and the recognized principle of self-defense.
Likewise, the world recognized the need to confront Saddam Hussein when
he invaded Kuwait – a consensus that sent a clear message to all about
the cost of aggression.
Furthermore, America – in fact, no nation – can
insist that others follow the rules of the road if we refuse to follow
them ourselves. For when we don't, our actions appear arbitrary and
undercut the legitimacy of future interventions, no matter how justified.
And this becomes particularly important when the
purpose of military action extends beyond self-defense or the defense
of one nation against an aggressor. More and more, we all confront difficult
questions about how to prevent the slaughter of civilians by their own
government, or to stop a civil war whose violence and suffering can
engulf an entire region.
I believe that force can be justified on humanitarian
grounds, as it was in the Balkans, or in other places that have been
scarred by war. Inaction tears at our conscience and can lead to more
costly intervention later. That's why all responsible nations must embrace
the role that militaries with a clear mandate can play to keep the peace.
America's commitment to global security will never
waver. But in a world in which threats are more diffuse, and missions
more complex, America cannot act alone. America alone cannot secure
the peace. This is true in Afghanistan. This is true in failed states
like Somalia, where terrorism and piracy is joined by famine and human
suffering. And sadly, it will continue to be true in unstable regions
for years to come.
The leaders and soldiers of NATO countries, and other
friends and allies, demonstrate this truth through the capacity and
courage they've shown in Afghanistan. But in many countries, there is
a disconnect between the efforts of those who serve and the ambivalence
of the broader public. I understand why war is not popular, but I also
know this: The belief that peace is desirable is rarely enough to achieve
it. Peace requires responsibility. Peace entails sacrifice. That's why
NATO continues to be indispensable. That's why we must strengthen U.N.
and regional peacekeeping, and not leave the task to a few countries.
That's why we honor those who return home from peacekeeping and training
abroad to Oslo and Rome; to Ottawa and Sydney; to Dhaka and Kigali –
we honor them not as makers of war, but of wagers – but as wagers
of peace.
Let me make one final point about the use of force.
Even as we make difficult decisions about going to war, we must also
think clearly about how we fight it. The Nobel Committee recognized
this truth in awarding its first prize for peace to Henry Dunant –
the founder of the Red Cross, and a driving force behind the Geneva
Conventions.
Where force is necessary, we have a moral and strategic
interest in binding ourselves to certain rules of conduct. And even
as we confront a vicious adversary that abides by no rules, I believe
the United States of America must remain a standard bearer in the conduct
of war. That is what makes us different from those whom we fight. That
is a source of our strength. That is why I prohibited torture. That
is why I ordered the prison at Guantanamo Bay closed. And that is why
I have reaffirmed America's commitment to abide by the Geneva Conventions.
We lose ourselves when we compromise the very ideals that we fight to
defend. //3// And we honor – we honor those ideals by upholding them
not when it's easy, but when it is hard.
I have spoken at some length to the question that
must weigh on our minds and our hearts as we choose to wage war. But
let me now turn to our effort to avoid such tragic choices, and speak
of three ways that we can build a just and lasting peace.
First, in dealing with those nations that break rules
and laws, I believe that we must develop alternatives to violence that
are tough enough to actually change behavior – for if we want a lasting
peace, then the words of the international community must mean something.
Those regimes that break the rules must be held accountable. Sanctions
must exact a real price. Intransigence must be met with increased pressure
– and such pressure exists only when the world stands together as
one.
One urgent example is the effort to prevent the spread
of nuclear weapons, and to seek a world without them. In the middle
of the last century, nations agreed to be bound by a treaty whose bargain
is clear: All will have access to peaceful nuclear power; those without
nuclear weapons will forsake them; and those with nuclear weapons will
work towards disarmament. I am committed to upholding this treaty. It
is a centerpiece of my foreign policy. And I'm working with President
Medvedev to reduce America and Russia's nuclear stockpiles.
But it is also incumbent upon all of us to insist
that nations like Iran and North Korea do not game the system. Those
who claim to respect international law cannot avert their eyes when
those laws are flouted. Those who care for their own security cannot
ignore the danger of an arms race in the Middle East or East Asia. Those
who seek peace cannot stand idly by as nations arm themselves for nuclear
war.
The same principle applies to those who violate international
laws by brutalizing their own people. When there is genocide in Darfur,
systematic rape in Congo, repression in Burma – there must be consequences.
Yes, there will be engagement; yes, there will be diplomacy – but
there must be consequences when those things fail. And the closer we
stand together, the less likely we will be faced with the choice between
armed intervention and complicity in oppression.
This brings me to a second point – the nature of
the peace that we seek. For peace is not merely the absence of visible
conflict. Only a just peace based on the inherent rights and dignity
of every individual can truly be lasting.
It was this insight that drove drafters of the Universal
Declaration of Human Rights after the Second World War. In the wake
of devastation, they recognized that if human rights are not protected,
peace is a hollow promise.
And yet too often, these words are ignored. For some
countries, the failure to uphold human rights is excused by the false
suggestion that these are somehow Western principles, foreign to local
cultures or stages of a nation's development. And within America, there
has long been a tension between those who describe themselves as realists
or idealists – a tension that suggests a stark choice between the
narrow pursuit if interests or an endless campaign to impose our values
around the world.
I reject these choices. I believe that peace is unstable
where citizens are denied the right to speak freely or worship as they
please; choose their own leaders or assemble without fear. Pent-up grievances
fester, and the suppression of tribal and religious identity can lead
to violence. We also know that the opposite is true. Only when Europe
became free did it finally find peace. America has never fought a war
against a democracy, and our closest friends are governments that protect
the rights of their citizens. No matter how callously defined, neither
America's interests – nor the world's – are served by the denial
of human aspirations.
So even as we respect the unique culture and traditions
of different countries, America will always be a voice for those aspirations
that are universal. We will bear witness to the quiet dignity of reformers
like Aung Sang Suu Kyi; to the bravery of Zimbabweans who cast their
ballots in the face of beatings; to the hundreds of thousands who have
marched silently through the streets of Iran. It is telling that the
leaders of these governments fear the aspirations of their own people
more than the power of any other nation. And it is the responsibility
of all free people and free nations to make clear that these movements
– these movements of hope and history – they have us on their side.
Let me also say this: The promotion of human rights
cannot be about exhortation alone. At times, it must be coupled with
painstaking diplomacy. I know that engagement with repressive regimes
lacks the satisfying purity of indignation. But I also know that sanctions
without outreach – condemnation without discussion – can carry forward
only a crippling status quo. No repressive regime can move down a new
path unless it has the choice of an open door.
In light of the Cultural Revolution's horrors, Nixon's
meeting with Mao appeared inexcusable – and yet it surely helped set
China on a path where millions of its citizens have been lifted from
poverty and connected to open societies. Pope John Paul's engagement
with Poland created space not just for the Catholic Church, but for
labor leaders like Lech Walesa. Ronald Reagan's efforts on arms control
and embrace of perestroika not only improved relations with the Soviet
Union, but empowered dissidents throughout Eastern Europe. There's no
simple formula here. But we must try as best we can to balance isolation
and engagement, pressure and incentives, so that human rights and dignity
are advanced over time.
Third, a just peace includes not only civil and political
rights – it must encompass economic security and opportunity. For
true peace is not just freedom from fear, but freedom from want.
It is undoubtedly true that development rarely takes
root without security; it is also true that security does not exist
where human beings do not have access to enough food, or clean water,
or the medicine and shelter they need to survive. It does not exist
where children can't aspire to a decent education or a job that supports
a family. The absence of hope can rot a society from within.
And that's why helping farmers feed their own people
– or nations educate their children and care for the sick – is not
mere charity. It's also why the world must come together to confront
climate change. There is little scientific dispute that if we do nothing,
we will face more drought, more famine, more mass displacement – all
of which will fuel more conflict for decades. //4// For this reason,
it is not merely scientists and environmental activists who call for
swift and forceful action – it's military leaders in my own country
and others who understand our common security hangs in the balance.
Agreements among nations. Strong institutions. Support
for human rights. Investments in development. All these are vital ingredients
in bringing about the evolution that President Kennedy spoke about.
And yet, I do not believe that we will have the will, the determination,
the staying power, to complete this work without something more –
and that's the continued expansion of our moral imagination; an insistence
that there's something irreducible that we all share.