Gitta Sereny

It is possible that this could apply to a child; it is possible for children to be sufficiently hurt to be damaged for life. But an enlightened society cannot presuppose this. An enlightened society, it seems to me, has to believe in the essential guiltlessness of children. And if a child’s intrinsic goodness fails, then this enlightened society must surely ask the question why.

However, what has emerged since as the important aspect of this and many subsequent occasions is that this emphasis on Mary’s “cleverness” in instances where this “cleverness” can also be interpreted differently, that is as a cry for help, greatly added to the impression which seems to have been generally accepted: that, irrespective of medical evidence, what we had here was not a “sick” child, but a clever little MONSTER. A conviction which may be at least in part to blame for the fact that few if any questions were asked or information aired about her background and her life during the trial, and that the dispositions made for her by the authorities concerned when the trial was over were never really questioned in the sense of being unsuitable for her—only that they might cause discomfort to other people.

It is important to remember that for young children it is not the formality of taking the oath that decides whether or not they are going to tell the truth. Their truthfulness is determined—indeed is predetermined—quite simply by whether or not they are truthful children; that is, children who are growing up in an environment where being truthful is a matter of course. To a great many children lies are not at all “lies” in the adult moral sense, but merely fantasy. This does not mean that all children—from whatever environment—do not tell lies at times. But it does mean at least that, for a child who comes from a “truth-oriented” environment, telling a lie under these particular conditions and in answer to a direct question, would be a conscious act—and not easy—while children whose immediate environment is not “truth-oriented” would not necessarily be particularly troubled by such a lie but would consider it a normal, not to say automatic, way of “getting the better” of authority, or of dramatizing themselves in a situation where their own role would otherwise seem negligible. Basically Norma Bell comes from a truth-oriented environment.

That night too, Mary had asked Policewoman O. the meaning of the word “immature.” “The lawyer said Norma was more immature,” she’d said. “Would that mean that if I was the more intelligent I’d get all the blame?”

If it had been apparent all along that the attitude toward Mary of many of those in Court was very different from that toward Norma, this became even more obvious now when Mary took the stand. Norma’s obvious bewilderment evoked the protective instincts any adult feels toward a helpless child. Mary’s extraordinary self-possession, on the other hand, seemed to bar this reaction and resulted in many people—rather than showing or even feeling compassion—watching her with a horrified kind of curiosity.