O NCE HANNA admitted having written the report， the other defendants had an easy game to play. When Hanna had not been acting alone， they claimed， she had pressured， threatened， and forced the others. She had seized command. She did the talking and the writing. She had made the decisions.

　　The villagers who testified could neither confirm nor deny this. They had seen that the burning church was guarded by several women who did not unlock it， and they had not dared to unlock it themselves. They had met the women the next morning as they were leaving the village， and recognized them as the defendants. But which of the defendants had been the spokeswoman at the early-morning encounter， or if anyone had played the role of spokeswoman， they could not recall.

　　“But you cannot rule out that it was this defendant”—the lawyer for one of the other defendants pointed at Hanna—“who took the decisions？”

　　They couldn’t， how could they even have wanted to， and faced with the other defendants， visibly older， more worn out， more cowardly and bitter， they had no such impulse. In comparison with the other defendants， Hanna was the dominant one. Besides， the existence of a leader exonerated the villagers； having failed to achieve rescue in the face of a fiercely led opposing force looked better than having failed to do anything when confronted by a group of confused women.

　　Hanna kept struggling. She admitted what was true and disputed what was not. Her arguments became more desperate and more vehement. She didn’t raise her voice， but her very intensity alienated the court.

　　Eventually she gave up. She spoke only when asked a direct question； her answers were short， minimal， sometimes beside the point. As if to make clear that she had given up， she now remained seated when speaking. The presiding judge， who had told her several times at the beginning of the trial that she did not need to stand and could remain seated if she preferred， was put off by this as well. Towards the end of the trial， I sometimes had the sense that the court had had enough， that they wanted to get the whole thing over with， that they were no longer paying attention but were somewhere else， or rather here—back in the present after long weeks in the past.

　　I had had enough too. But I couldn’t put it behind me. For me， the proceedings were not ending， but just beginning. I had been a spectator， and then suddenly a participant， a player， and member of the jury. I had neither sought nor chosen this new role， but it was mine whether I wanted it or not， whether I did anything or just remained completely passive.

　　“Did anything”—there was only one thing to do. I could go to the judge and tell him that Hanna was illiterate. That she was not the main protagonist and guilty party the way the others made her out to be. That her behavior at the trial was not proof of singular incorrigibility， lack of remorse， or arrogance， but was born of her incapacity to familiarize herself with the indictment and the manuscript and also probably of her consequent lack of any sense of strategy or tactics. That her defense had been significantly compromised. That she was guilty， but not as guilty as it appeared.

　　Maybe I would not be able to convince the judge. But I would give him enough to have to think about and investigate further. In the end， it would be proved that I was right， and Hanna would be punished， but less severely. She would have to go to prison， but would be released sooner—wasn’t that what she had been fighting for？

　　Yes， that was what she had been fighting for， but she was not willing to earn victory at the price of exposure as an illiterate. Nor would she want me to barter her self-image for a few years in prison. She could have made that kind of trade herself， and did not， which meant she didn’t want it. Her sense of self was worth more than the years in prison to her.

　　But was it really worth all that？ What did she gain from this false self-image which ensnared her and crippled her and paralyzed her？ With the energy she put into maintaining the lie， she could have learned to read and write long ago.

　　I tried to talk about the problem with friends. Imagine someone is racing intentionally towards his own destruction and you can save him—do you go ahead and save him？ Imagine there’s an operation， and the patient is a drug user and the drugs are incompatible with the anesthetic， but the patient is ashamed of being an addict and does not want to tell the anesthesiologist—do you talk to the anesthesiologist？ Imagine a trial and a defendant who will be convicted if he doesn’t admit to being left-handed—do you tell the judge what’s going on？ Imagine he’s gay， and could not have committed the crime because he’s gay， but is ashamed of being gay. It isn’t a question of whether the defendant should be ashamed of being left-handed or gay—just imagine that he is.

　　由于漢娜承認(rèn)那篇報告是她寫的，其他被告就可以輕松地出牌了。她們說，凡漢娜一個人處理不了的事情，她就逼迫、威脅和強(qiáng)迫其他被告一起做。她把指揮棒攬在自己手里。她既執(zhí)筆又代言，她總是做最后決定。

　　對此，做證的村民既不能證實又不能反駁。他們看見那熊熊燃燒的教堂被許多穿制服的女人看守著，門沒有被打開。這樣，他們自己也不敢去開門。當(dāng)她們第二天早上開拔時，他們又遇見了她們，而且在這些被告中又認(rèn)出了她們。但是，由于只是在晨窿中相遇，哪位被告是發(fā)號施令者，是否真的有哪位被告在發(fā)號施令，他們也說不清楚。

　　"但是你們不能排除這位被告做了決定吧！另一位被告的辯護(hù)律師指著漢娜說。

　　他們不能排除，他們怎么能排除！看到其他被告明顯地更年老，更疲倦，更膽小和更痛苦，他們也不想排除這種可能性。相比之下，漢娜就是個頭頭。除此之外，有個頭頭存在也減輕了村民們的負(fù)擔(dān)。他們在一伙嚴(yán)厲的、有領(lǐng)導(dǎo)的女人面前沒有伸出援助之手總比在一幫不知所措的女人面前而沒有伸出援助之手要好得多。

　　漢娜繼續(xù)抗?fàn)幹�，對的她就承認(rèn)，錯的她就反駁。她的反駁越來越困惑，越來越暴躁，她的聲音不大，但其厲害程度令法庭感到驚訝。

　　最后，她放棄了爭辯，只是在被問到對她才說話。她的回答簡短扼要，有時候甚至漫不經(jīng)心。好像為了讓人更明顯地看出她已經(jīng)放棄了，她現(xiàn)在說話時也不站起來。審判長也驚訝地注意到了這一點(diǎn)。在法庭審理剛開始時，審判長曾多次對她說過不必站起來，她可以坐著講話。有時候我會有一種感覺，覺得法庭在審理接近尾聲時已經(jīng)厭戰(zhàn)了，想盡早把事情了結(jié)，大家都已經(jīng)心不在焉，都想在經(jīng)過幾周對過去的審理后再回到現(xiàn)實中來。

　　我也感到厭倦了，但是我卻不能把事情置于腦后。對我來說，審理沒有結(jié)束，而是剛剛開始。起初，我是一名聽眾，突然之間我變成了參與者、一同游戲的人和共同決策者。我并沒有去尋找和選擇這一新的角色，但是我卻得到了它，不管我愿意與否，不管我是采取了主動還是被動。

　　如果我能做什么的話，我也只能做一件事。我可以去找審判長，對他說漢娜是個文盲，她并非如其他人所說的那樣是個主角并負(fù)有主要責(zé)任。她在法庭上的言談舉止并不能說明她特別固執(zhí)己見、不理智或者厚顏無恥，而只能說明她對其控告詞和那本書事前缺乏了解和認(rèn)識，也是由于她缺乏戰(zhàn)略戰(zhàn)術(shù)意識的結(jié)果。這對她為自己辯護(hù)極為不利。她雖然負(fù)有責(zé)任，但是她所負(fù)的責(zé)任并不是像看上去的那樣重大。

　　也許我的話不能令審判長信服，但是，我會促使他去思考，去調(diào)查研究。最終結(jié)果將證明我是對的。漢娜盡管將受到懲罰，但是她的罪責(zé)將會減輕。她盡管要坐牢，但是會早些時候被放出來，會早些時候重獲自由。她的爭辯難道不正是為了這些嗎？

　　是的，她是為此而抗?fàn)幍�，但是她不愿為了獲得成功而暴露出自己是個文盲，她不想為此付出代價。她也不會愿意我為了她在監(jiān)獄里少呆幾年而出賣她。她可以自己討價還價，但她沒有那樣做，說明她不想那樣做。對她來說，為了她的自我價值蹲幾年監(jiān)獄也值得。

　　但是，這對她來說真的值得嗎？她從這種虛偽的、束縛她的、令其喪失活力的、使其無法施展才能的自我價值中能得到什么呢？如果把用于掩飾真實謊言的精力用于學(xué)習(xí)，她早就能學(xué)會讀和寫了。

　　當(dāng)時，我曾試著與朋友就這個問題進(jìn)行探討。你設(shè)想一下，有人想毀掉自己，故意毀掉自己，你就是能挽救他，可你將挽救他嗎？你設(shè)想一個手術(shù)，病人服用了連麻藥都無法相比的毒品，但他又恥于向麻醉師開口講他服用了毒品，在這種情況下，你能告訴麻醉師真相嗎？你設(shè)想一次法庭審理案，有一名被告將會受到懲罰，他是個左撇子，但是他為此感到羞恥。如果他不講出自己是一個左撇子，因而不能完成一個用右手實施的行為，你能對法庭說明此事嗎？你設(shè)想一下，某人是一名同性戀者，作為同性戀他不會于某種行為，可是他又恥于做一名同性戀者而不說明真相。這不是人們是否應(yīng)該恥于做一名左撇子或做一名同性戀者的問題，您想一想，這是被告為自己感到羞恥的問題。