Biomedical Engineering Reference
In-Depth Information
correction, or even replacement if need be. We ought not fear being on
a slippery slope; instead, we should welcome and even relish the novel
vistas, prospects, and exhilarating ride—which are potent indeed.
In Mawer's novel, Dinah is deeply ambivalent toward Ben, at once
attracted and repelled—not unlike many others of us when we are in the
company of the likes of Ben. Ben, on the other hand, is not only
extremely nice to Dinah but goes out of his way to help her get through
a genetics class. Why, then, are the Bens of the world so disturbing?
Dinah is beside herself when she passes the course and spontaneously
kisses Ben, then promptly tries to take it back. Befuddled, on fire, Ben
tells Dinah that he loves her, and she responds, “I knew you'd do this.
...[C]an't you see it's impossible?” Ben replies, “Of course it's impos-
sible. It's the impossible that attracts me. When you're like I am, who
gives a toss about the possible?”
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He then says what she cannot bring
herself to mention: that he is a dwarf.
At this point, there is something left unsaid, unspoken, perhaps
unthinkable even as Ben himself tries to think and say it—or perhaps, it
can be spoken only because the unspeakable one himself, Ben the dwarf,
says it for her. Why, we must wonder, is it so hard for her to say what
she actually thinks, and to say it directly to Ben? Isn't utter honesty called
for? Why would it be difficult for any of us to say it to someone like
Ben? Why do we hesitate to say it when, on the other hand, what is
unsaid is, if anything, utterly decisive for what we then think about and
how we act toward Ben the dwarf?
When discussing using human subjects for research in 1865, Claude
Bernard did not mention, nor presumably did he intend to mention any-
thing like informed consent. Rather, he said, that “it is our duty and our
right to perform an experiment on man whenever it can save his life,
cure him, or gain him some personal benefit. The principle of medical
and surgical morality, therefore, consists in never performing on man an
experiment which might be harmful to him to any extent, even though
the results might be highly advantageous to science, i.e., to the health of
others.”
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Commenting on this passage, Jay Katz notes “that Bernard spoke
about 'our duty' and 'our right'; he said nothing about research subjects'
consent.” And, continuing to reflect on this remarkable passage, Katz
seems taken aback by the realization that
