英文小說連載《朗讀者The Reader》Part 2 Chapter 4

　　I DID NOT miss a single day of the trial. The other students were surprised. The professor was pleased that one of us was making sure that the next group learned what the last one had heard and seen.

　　Only once did Hanna look at the spectators and over at me. Usually she was brought in by a guard and took her place and then kept her eyes fixed on the bench throughout the day’s proceedings. It appeared arrogant， as did the fact that she didn’t talk to the other defendants and almost never with her lawyer either. However， as the trial went on， the other defendants talked less among themselves too. When there were breaks in the proceedings， they stood with relatives and friends， and in the mornings they waved and called hello to them when they saw them in the public benches. During the breaks Hanna remained in her seat.

　　So I watched her from behind. I saw her head， her neck， her shoulders. I decoded her head， her neck， her shoulders. When she was being discussed， she held her head very erect. When she felt she was being unjustly treated， slandered， or attacked and she was struggling to respond， she rolled her shoulders forward and her neck swelled， showing the play of muscles. The objections were regularly overruled， and her shoulders regularly sank. She never shrugged， and she never shook her head. She was too keyed up to allow herself anything as casual as a shrug or a shake of the head. Nor did she allow herself to hold her head at an angle， or to let it fall， or to lean her chin on her hand. She sat as if frozen. It must have hurt to sit that way.

　　Sometimes strands of hair slipped out of the tight knot， began to curl， lay on the back of her neck， and moved gently against it in the draft. Sometimes Hanna wore a dress with a neckline low enough to reveal the birthmark high on her left shoulder. Then I remembered how I had blown the hair away from that neck and how I had kissed that birthmark and that neck. But the memory was like a retrieved file. I felt nothing.

　　During the weeks of the trial， I felt nothing： my feelings were numbed. Sometimes I poked at them， and imagined Hanna doing what she was accused of doing as clearly as I could， and also doing what the hair on her neck and the birthmark on her shoulder recalled to my mind. It was like a hand pinching an arm numbed by an injection. The arm doesn’t register that it is being pinched by the hand， the hand registers that it is pinching the arm， and at first the mind cannot tell the two of them apart. But a moment later it distinguishes them quite clearly. Perhaps the hand has pinched so hard that the flesh stays white for a while. Then the blood flows back and the spot regains its color. But that does not bring back sensation.

　　Who had given me the injection？ Had I done it myself， because I couldn’t manage without anesthesia？ The anesthetic functioned not only in the courtroom， and not only to allow me to see Hanna as if it was someone else who had loved and desired her， someone I knew well but who wasn’t me. In every part of my life， too， I stood outside myself and watched； I saw myself functioning at the university， with my parents and brother and sister and my friends， but inwardly I felt no involvement.

　　After a time I thought I could detect a similar numbness in other people. Not in the lawyers， who carried on throughout the trial with the same rhetorical legalistic pugnacity， jabbing pedantry， or loud， calculated truculence， depending on their personalities and their political standpoint. Admittedly the trial proceedings exhausted them； in the evenings they were tired and got more shrill. But overnight they recharged or reinflated themselves and droned and hissed away the next morning just as they had twenty-four hours before. The prosecutors made an effort to keep up and display the same level of attack day after day. But they didn’t succeed， at first because the facts and their outcome as laid out at the trial horrified them so much， and later because the numbness began to take hold. The effect was strongest on the judges and the lay members of the court. During the first weeks of the trial they took in the horrors—sometimes recounted in tears， sometimes in choking voices， sometimes in agitated or broken sentences—with visible shock or obvious efforts at self-control. Later their faces returned to normal； they could smile and whisper to one another or even show traces of impatience when a witness lost the thread while testifying. When going to Israel to question a witness was discussed， they started getting the travel bug. The other students kept being horrified all over again. They only came to the trial once a week， and each time the same thing happened： the intrusion of horror into daily life. I， who was in court every day， observed their reactions with detachment.

　　It was like being a prisoner in the death camps who survives month after month and becomes accustomed to the life， while he registers with an objective eye the horror of the new arrivals： registers it with the same numbness that he brings to the murders and deaths themselves. All survivor literature talks about this numbness， in which life’s functions are reduced to a minimum， behavior becomes completely selfish and indifferent to others， and gassing and burning are everyday occurrences. In the rare accounts by perpetrators， too， the gas chambers and ovens become ordinary scenery， the perpetrators reduced to their few functions and exhibiting a mental paralysis and indifference， a dullness that makes them seem drugged or drunk. The defendants seemed to me to be trapped still， and forever， in this drugged state， in a sense petrified in it.

　　Even then， when I was preoccupied by this general numbness， and by the fact that it had taken hold not only of the perpetrators and victims， but of all of us， judges and lay members of the court， prosecutors and recorders， who had to deal with these events now； when I likened perpetrators， victims， the dead， the living， survivors， and their descendants to each other， I didn’t feel good about it and I still don’t.

　　Can one see them all as linked in this way？ When I began to make such comparisons in discussions， I always emphasized that the linkage was not meant to relativize the difference between being forced into the world of the death camps and entering it voluntarily， between enduring suffering and imposing it on others， and that this difference was of the greatest， most critical importance. But I met with shock and indignation when I said this not in reaction to the others’ objections， but before they had even had the chance to demur.

　　At the same time I ask myself， as I had already begun to ask myself back then： What should our second generation have done， what should it do with the knowledge of the horrors of the extermination of the Jews？ We should not believe we can comprehend the incomprehensible， we may not compare the incomparable， we may not inquire because to inquire is to make the horrors an object of discussion， even if the horrors themselves are not questioned， instead of accepting them as something in the face of which we can only fall silent in revulsion， shame， and guilt. Should we only fall silent in revulsion， shame， and guilt？ To what purpose？ It was not that I had lost my eagerness to explore and cast light on things which had filled the seminar， once the trial got under way. But that some few would be convicted and punished while we of the second generation were silenced by revulsion， shame， and guilt—was that all there was to it now？

　　法庭的審理我一天都沒有錯過，其他同學對此感到奇怪，教授對此表示贊賞，因為，這樣一來，我們當中就有了一位能把上一組同學的所見所聞傳達給下一組同學的人。

　　只有一次漢娜向觀眾和我這邊看了看，否則的話，在所有審理的日子里，當她被一位女看守帶進來時和坐下之后，她都把目光投向法庭的長椅上。這使她看上去很傲慢，同樣使她顯得傲慢的是她與其他被告人不交談，與她的辯護律師也幾乎不說什么。不過，法庭審理持續(xù)時間越長，其他被告人之間的交談也越少。他們在法庭中間休息時與親朋好友站在一起交談，早上在觀眾席上看到他們時，向他們招手呼喚。漢娜在法庭休息時仍舊留在她的座位上。

　　這樣一來我只能從后面看她。我可以看到她的頭、她的脖頸和肩膀。我研究她的頭、她的脖頸和她的肩。如果事情與她有關時，她會把頭抬得特別高。當她感到受到了不公平的對待時，或遭到了誹謗中傷和攻擊時，或吃力地回答問題時，她都把肩往前探，脖頸青筋就暴漲起來。她的反駁總是不成功，她的肩也就總是又垂下來。她從未聳過肩，也從未搖過頭。她太緊張了，以至于連聳肩、搖頭所要求的輕松自如的動作都做不到。她也不允許自己把頭偏著，也不允許自己低頭或者靠著。她僵硬地坐著，這種坐姿一定很痛苦。

　　有時候，一咎頭發(fā)慢慢地從她的發(fā)夾中掉出來，卷曲在一起垂在脖頸上，在穿堂風中來回飄擺。有時候漢娜穿一件連衣裙，它的領口很大，以致她左肩膀上面的一塊胎痣都露了出來。這使我想起我把她脖頸上的頭發(fā)吹開然后去親吻那塊股清、親吻她的脖頸的情景。但是，這種回憶只是一種記憶而已，我什么感覺都沒有。

　　在持續(xù)了幾周長的法庭審理期間，我什么感覺都沒有，我的感覺就像麻木了一樣。我也偶爾刺激過它，盡可能十分清楚地去想象漢娜被指控的那些行為，同時我也去回想她脖頸上的頭發(fā)和她肩膀上的那塊胎痣。結果就像用手拖了一下打了麻醉藥的胳膊一樣，胳膊不知道被手掐了一下，而手卻知道它把胳膊掐了，大腦起初也分不清這兩種感覺，但下一步就把二者分得十分清楚了。也許手用力太大，被掐的地方一時會蒼白無血色，過了一會兒血液才流通，被掐的地方才又恢復了血色，但是，感覺卻沒有隨之回來。

　　是誰給我打了麻醉藥呢？是我自己，因為若不麻木不仁的話，我能承受得了嗎？這種麻木不仁不僅僅在法庭的大廳里起作用，它不僅僅使我能夠面對漢娜——我好像不是我，而是我的一位熟人，一位愛過她、渴望過她的熟人，它還使我與我身邊所有的人都相處得平平淡淡，不論是在大學里的與朋友相處，還是在家里的與父母及兄弟姐妹相處。

　　過了一段時間，我發(fā)現，類似的麻木不仁在其他人身上也可以觀察到，但在辯護律師身上你觀察不到這種麻木不仁。在整個審理期間，他們始終是吵吵鬧鬧、非常自負地爭高爭低，有時過分尖刻，有時大吵大鬧、厚顏無恥，其程度根據個人氣質和政治素質而有所不同。雖然審理已使他們精疲力竭，使他們到了晚上也疲憊不堪或者聲音更尖銳刺耳，可是經過一夜的養(yǎng)精蓄銳，他們第二天又和前一天一樣，吵吵嚷嚷地上陣了。那些法官也并不示弱，每天都斗志昂揚。但他們并沒有達到預期結果，這首先因為審理對象和結果太使他們震驚，而后麻木不仁又開始發(fā)揮了作用。這種麻木不仁在審判員和陪審員身上體現得最明顯。在最初幾周的審理中，當他們聽到那些可怕的事實時，明顯地表現出震驚或者強做鎮(zhèn)定自若：有時講述人淚流滿面，有時泣不成聲，有時非常具有煽動性，有時又偶然若失。后來，他們的面部表情就又趨于正常了。他們相互之間也能笑著在對方的耳邊低聲評論什么，或者當一位證人事無巨細地做證時，他們也開始不耐煩地嘆氣。在審理期間，當需要到以色列一位女證人那兒取證的消息被公布時，人人爭先恐后。其他同學總是被新的事實所震驚，他們每周只來一次法庭，每次都要面對可怕的歷史打破他們的日常生活的事實。我卻日復一日地留在法庭，冷眼旁觀他們的反應。

　　集中營的囚犯如何才能一個月接著一個月地活過來，如何才能適應自己，如何才能對新來囚犯的驚恐萬狀冷眼視之呢？麻木不仁！他們以同樣的麻木不仁對待殺人和死亡。那些幸存者留下的所有文字材料都記載了這種麻木不仁。這種麻木不仁削弱了生命的作用，使不法行為肆無忌憚，使用毒氣殺人和焚燒人的行為變成了家常便飯。在那些罪犯寥寥數語的說明中可以看到，他們也把毒氣室和焚燒爐看做是日常生活，把他們自己的作用看得很輕，把他們的肆無忌憚和冷漠無情視為一種像被注射了麻醉藥或喝醉了酒一樣的麻痹狀態(tài)。在我眼里，那些被告人好像仍！日而且永久地被束縛在這種麻木不仁中，在某種程度上，他們已變成了化石。

　　當我對這種麻木不仁的共性進行研究時，當我不僅僅研究罪犯和受害者身上的麻木不仁，而且也對我們這些人——法官、陪審員、檢查官和記錄員，這些后來與此有關人員的麻木不仁進行研究時，當我把罪犯、受害者、死亡者、活著的人、幸存者和永垂不朽者相互進行比較時，我就感覺不舒服，過去感覺不舒服，現在仍然感覺不舒服。允許人們做這樣的比較嗎？當我在發(fā)言中做這樣的比較時，我雖然總是強調不應該抹殺罪犯是被迫去集中營還是自愿去的這兩者之間的區(qū)別，以及是他們自己在忍受痛苦還是給別人帶來痛苦這兩者之間的區(qū)別——相反，我們應該特別強調這種區(qū)別的重要性，但是，我總是引火燒身——引起別人的震驚和憤怒，如果我的這種觀點不是針對其他人的指責所做出的一種反應，而是在他們尚未對我進行指責之前就提出來的話。我現在自問——當時我就已經開始對自己提出這樣的問題：我們這代人應該如何對待屠殺猶太人的那段可怕的歷史觀？我們不應該認為我們能理解無法理解的事情，不應該去比較無法比較的事情，也不應該去詢問，因為詢問者本人把那可怕的過去變成了一種談話的題材。雖然他們對那可怕的過去毫不懷疑，但卻不把它視為駭人聽聞的奇恥大辱和彌天大罪。我們應該僅僅停留在這種恥辱感和負疚感上嗎？為什么？我之所以這樣自問，不是因為我參加研究班時所擁有的那種清理和解釋過去的熱情在法庭審理期間消失殆盡了，但是，僅僅審判和懲罰少數幾個人，我們肇事者的后代也僅僅感到那段歷史是駭人聽聞的奇恥大辱和彌天大罪，就可以了嗎？