"Some diseases attack the psyche and cannot be traced to any physical agent."
McKie absorbed this. Although Gowachin definitions were difficult to understand, they permitted no aberrant behavior. Different behavior, yes; aberrant behavior, no. You could challenge the Law, not the ritual. They were compulsive in this regard. They slew the ritual deviant out of hand. It required enormous restraint on their part to deal with another species.
Aritch continued:
"Terrifying psychological abrasions occur when divergent species confront each other and are forced to adapt to new ways. We seek new knowledge in this arena of behavior."
McKie nodded.
One of his Dry Head teachers had said it: "No matter how painful, life must adapt or die."
It was a profound revelation about how Gowachin applied their insight to themselves. Law changed, but it changed on a foundation which could not be permitted the slightest change. "Else, how do we know where we are or where we have been?" But encounters with other species changed the foundation. Life adapted . . . willingly or by force.
McKie spoke with care.
"Psychological experiments with people who've not given their informed consent are still illegal . . . even among the Gowachin."
Aritch would not accept this argument.
"The ConSentiency in all of its parts has accumulated a long history of scientific studies into behavioral and biomedical questions where people are the final test site."
McKie said:
"And the first issue when you propose such an experiment is 'How great is the known risk to the subjects?' "
"But, my dear Legum, informed consent implies that the experimenter knows all the risks and can describe them to his test subjects. I ask you: how can that be when the experiment goes beyond what you already know? How can you describe risks which you cannot anticipate?"
"You submit a proposal to many recognized experts in the field," McKie said. "They weigh the proposed experiment against whatever value the new knowledge is expected to uncover."
"Ahh, yes. We submit our proposal to fellow researchers, to people whose mission, whose very view of their own personal identity is controlled by the belief that they can improve the lot of all sentient beings. Tell me, Legum: do review boards composed of such people reject many experimental proposals?"
McKie saw the direction of the argument. He spoke with care.
"They don't reject many proposals, that's true. Still, you didn't submit your Dosadi protocol to any outside review. Was that to keep it secret from your own people or from others?"
"We feared the fate of our proposal should it run the gauntlet of other species."
"Did a Gowachin majority approve your project?"
"No. But we both know that having a majority set the experimental guidelines gives no guarantee against dangerous projects."
"Dosadi has proved dangerous?"
Aritch remained silent for several deep breaths, then:
"It has proved dangerous."
"To whom?"
"Everyone."
It was an unexpected answer, adding a new dimension to Aritch's behavior. McKie decided to back up and test the revelation. "This Dosadi project was approved by a minority among the Gowachin, a minority willing to accept a dangerous risk-benefit ratio."
"You have a way of putting these matters, McKie, which presupposes a particular kind of guilt."
"But a majority in the ConSentiency might agree with my description?"
"Should they ever learn of it."
"I see. Then, in accepting a dangerous risk, what were the future benefits you expected?"
Aritch emitted a deep grunt.
"Legum, I assure you that we worked only with volunteers and they were limited to Humans and Gowachin."
"You evade my question."
"I merely defer an answer."
"Then tell me, did you explain to your volunteers that they had a choice, that they could say 'no'? Did you tell them they might be in danger?"
"We did not try to frighten them . . . no."
"Was any one of you concerned about the free destiny of your volunteers?"
"Be careful how you judge us, McKie. There is a fundamental tension between science and freedom - no matter how science is viewed by its practitioners nor how freedom is sensed by those who believe they have it."
McKie was reminded of a cynical Gowachin aphorism: To believe that you are free is more important than being free. He said:
"Your volunteers were lured into this project."
"Some would see it that way."
McKie reflected on this. He still did not know precisely what the Gowachin had done on Dosadi, but he was beginning to suspect it'd be something repulsive. He could not keep this fear from his voice.
"We return to the question of expected benefits."
"Legum, we have long admired your species. You gave us one of our most trusted maxims: No species is to be trusted farther than it is bound by its own interests."
"That's no longer sufficient justification for . . ."
"We derive another rule from your maxim: It is wise to guide your actions in such a way that the interests of other species coincide with the interests of your species."
McKie stared at the High Magister. Did this crafty old Gowachin seek a Human-Gowachin conspiracy to suppress evidence of what had been done on Dosadi? Would he dare such a gambit? Just how bad was this Dosadi fiasco?
To test the issue, McKie asked: