介绍:
CHAPTER TWELVE （2）
But eventually I sorted out what he had said to mean that I did not have to speak to the judge, that
indeed I had no right to speak to him, and was relieved.
My father saw my relief. “That’s how you like your philosophy?”
“Well, I didn’t know if one had to act in the circumstances I described, and I wasn’t really happy
with the idea that one must, and if one really isn’t allowed to do anything at all, I find that . .
.” I didn’t know what to say. A relief? A comfort? Appealing? That didn’t sound like morality and
responsibility. “I think that’s good” would have sounded moral and responsible, but I couldn’t say
I thought it was good, that I thought it was any more than a relief.
“Appealing?” my father suggested.
I nodded and shrugged my shoulders.
“No, your problem has no appealing solution. Of course one must act if the situation as you
describe it is one of accrued or inherited responsibility. If one knows what is good for another
person who in turn is blind to it, then one must try to open his eyes. One has to leave him the
last word, but one must talk to him, to him and not to someone else behind his back.”
Talk to Hanna? What would I say to her? That I had seen through her lifelong lie? That she was in
the process of sacrificing her whole life to this silly lie? That the lie wasn’t worth the
sacrifice? That that was why she should fight not to remain in prison any longer than she had to,
because there was so much she could still do with her life afterwards? Could I deprive her of her
lifelong lie, without opening some vision of a future to her? I had no idea what that
might be, nor did I know how to face her and say that after what she had done it was right that
her short- and medium-term future would be prison. I didn’t know how to face her and say anything
at all. I didn’t know how to face her.
I asked my father: “And what if you can’t talk to him?”
He looked at me doubtfully, and I knew myself that the question was beside the point. There was
nothing more to moralize about. I just had to make a decision.
“I haven’t been able to help you.” My father stood up and so did I. “No, you don’t have to go, it’s
just that my back hurts.” He stood bent over, with his hands pressed against his kidneys. “I can’t
say that I’m sorry I can’t help you. As a philosopher, I mean, which is how you were addressing me.
As your father, I find the experience of not being able to help my children almost unbearable.”
I waited, but he didn’t say anything else. I thought he was making it easy on himself; I knew when
he could have taken care of us more and how he could have helped us more. Then I thought that
perhaps he realized this himself and really found it difficult to bear. But either way I had
nothing to say to him. I was embarrassed, and had the feeling he was embarrassed too.
“Well then . . .”
“You can come any time.” My father looked at me.
I didn’t believe him, and nodded.
