Stephen Platten: Edlington's lesson of our humanity and the need for hope

Certainly politicians seem to have assumed as much. Pre-election fever has prompted both the Prime Minster and the Leader of the Opposition to reflect in similar alarmist notes. It is another version of "Whatever have things come to?"

Every now and again, I read a novel about children. Often, they seem to be among the most disturbing but also revealing of imaginative literature. Susan Hill's I'm the King of the Castle and William Trevor's The Children of Dynmouth show how cruel children can be. Undoubtedly the classic in this genre is William Golding's Lord of the Flies.

Already, this list of books might cause us to question the "signs of the times" responses to Edlington. After all, these novels take us back 30, 40 or 50 years and even a cursory glance at the novels of Dickens raises similar themes.

So what is that common theme? Many would say the obvious answer is something like "original sin". The old wives' tale runs that if the baby doesn't cry at his christening, then he is unregenerate. In other words, the child's distress at baptism reminds us that we're all fallen from the start. Original sin is a powerful myth. To say it is myth is not to imply it is spurious or untrue. Instead, it suggests a story or image which tells us something profound about our human predicament. Others might prefer a Freudian myth relating to the development of a healthy ego. Others would say we are all conditioned by the evils of the society in which we live.

None of these is hugely attractive by itself, but at different moments each seems to hold some truth about the human condition.

It may be that in all of this the Christian faith may lend some light and even glimmers of hope. Early on in the Christian era, St Irenaeus used an image from the Old Testament to illuminate this: "All of us are born in the image of God and have the opportunity to grow into God's likeness." This suggests that none of us is born with a purely natural potential for perfectibility.

Edlington has revealed some horrific and disturbing facts: children on drugs or drinking almost from infancy; cruel and life-defacing acts towards other children. Some of the behaviour is clearly learnt, some seems almost instinctual.

No one would deny culpability in children, but equally none would deny the responsibility of parents and indeed the influence of the wider fabric of society. St Irenaeus would not have been surprised by this even though, like us, he would have been disturbed. Human beings are not born in perfection but they can be drawn towards good and God.

Politicians rarely wish to refer to this and their promises generally attempt to avoid too much reality. Where such realities have been acknowledged, however, then some profound progress has been made. Such was the background to the collapse of apartheid or the foundation of the peace process in Northern Ireland. In neither place has utopia been established and in both places things remain fragile. But also in each place the world has changed. Perhaps not coincidentally, positive (alongside negative) elements from within Christian discipleship have

played a key part. Often personalities matter too; Cahal Daly, who has recently died, is just one such figure.

The Christian story does not underplay brutality or human fallibility. How could it with the image of the crucifix at its heart? It does, however, also deal in hope. St Irenaeus talked of the possibility of moving from the image to the likeness of God. Situations, politics, families, even individuals may be redeemed. That is there on the other side, so to speak, of the crucifix.

What, then, of Edlington, Jamie Bulger or all those novels about children? The darkness cannot and dare not be ignored or underestimated. Humankind's inability to live by the light given to it is a perennial truth. If there are "signs of the times", then they are signs for all times. If we ignore a proper account of the nature of our humanity we shall forever be falling into either an unrealistic utopianism or an equally hopeless and life-sapping fatalism.

Edlington is a terrifying and painful reminder of our

profound need to face the

nature of our humanity but also to build in the context of a hope which can transform and redeem our society.

Here the Christian foundations of our culture may have something rich to offer but they remain neither the monopoly of one faith nor an automatic panacea. Hope can, however, lead to transformation and even redemption; that is as crucial for our political leaders as it is for religious groups. It is summarised in a Jain prayer for a new world from Satish Kumar:

Lead me from death to life,

from falsehood to truth;

Lead me from despair to hope,

from fear to trust;

Lead me from hate to love,

from war to peace;

Let peace fill our heart, our world, our universe.