Doris Lessing - The Sirian Experiments

It was at this stage in our journey that Klorathy informed me nothing could be done for the Lelannians. They were beyond improvement. He asked me—in that way of his—what I thought should be done in this situation, but asked, too, that I should take my time thinking about it, “putting aside my emotions.”

When we were back in the Sirian post in the hills above the rain forests, we sat together, as we had before our long and difficult journey, and we talked. I was impatient for him to come to a conclusion, to “sum up”—a favourite Lelannian expression. But he was in no hurry and for many days, and then months, our experience was allowed to, as it were, ferment between us.

He was at particular pains to make me think about the Lelannian experiments, the Lelannian attitudes towards themselves as experimenters and researchers. I was by then reluctant to do this. I had been so sickened and disgusted at what I had seen, and my inability to change anything, that I wanted only to put the whole experience out of my mind.

He said that the Lelannians, living in a rich and fruitful continent, blessed by the climate, by every natural resource, had little need to work hard to sustain themselves. That even if they had, they provided themselves with abundant slaves and servants who did their work for them. Leisure was their inheritance. It was, as the Shammat observers saw, their means of being kept in subjection, because it rotted them: the right amount of sloth and ease would keep them Shammat’s. Too much would make them useless. Shammat had influenced them towards their experimentation. Apart from a very small administrative class, who increasingly left this work to slaves trained for this purpose—who could be expected shortly to seize power for themselves, but that is another story—the ruling race as a whole occupied themselves with the increasingly refined techniques of research. There were not enough genuine avenues of enquiry to occupy everyone, and therefore the experiments became more bizarre, extensive—useless. And more and more unfortunate animals of other species were sacrificed.

Their attitude towards themselves, that everything that surrounded them was their property, to use as they wished, meant that the delicate and invisible balances of force and power were increasingly disrupted. The two Southern Continents, the Sirian responsibility, were wildly out of key, were unbalancing the already precarious Rohandan cosmic economy. There been a time, at the beginning of our journey, said Klorathy, when he believed it might be possible to arrest the brutalisation of these Lelannians, to make them see the natural balances of earth, rock, vegetation, water, fire, and the infinitely various differing species of the creatures of earth, of water, of air, as irreplaceable and distinct, each with its part to play in the invisible cosmic dance. But it had become clear the innate self-esteem of the Lelannians was too strong.

And now we come to the culminating point of our encounter, Klorathy and I: Canopus and Sirius.

He was making, in fact, a complaint. If one could call this long process of journeying together for the purposes of my instruction, and these long discussions, during which he never insisted, or demanded, but only demonstrated—a complaint. The differing roles of Canopus and Sirius, our different weights and emphases in the cosmic scale, made these conversations of ours have the effect of criticism and—on my side—of resistance.

Why had we neglected these Southern Continents?

Because they had not seemed worth our while.

But we had asked for them, had done more, had insisted on having them.

At the time we needed them. (And, of course, we were not going to let Canopus get away with anything—ridiculous and petty though this attitude was. And is.)

What were we going to do now?

The point was, Rohanda was not of much interest to our Empire. Not now. It had been relegated, with other planets, to a position of being possibly useful again in the future. Not all my persuasions, if I decided to take this course, would make Sirius actively exploit Rohanda again. It was too overrun with inferior species, too problematical—and there was Shammat, whose rule was established everywhere. Apparently with Canopean permission, and that was more than we could understand.

I said to Klorathy that there was nothing we, Sirius, could do for Rohanda.

“You will not then, I am sure, be resentful if we interest ourselves in your territories?”

“You are already! You have been for some time. I am not saying that anything you do is harmful, far from it. I am sure that without your intervention everything would be worse. But it is hypocritical to ask for permission for actions you have already taken.”

“Never without your knowledge.” At this we exchanged smiles: he was referring to the extensive and admirable Sirian espionage systems.

“But now, in my view, definite and prompt action is needed in Southern Continent II. As is being done in Isolated Southern Continent I. By your old friend Nasar, among others.”

I allowed him to understand that I did not care, would be happy to leave it all to him.

“Tell me, Sirius, now that you have seen everything and thought about it, in your opinion, is the right thing to be done?”

I exploded, out of long months of indignation and revulsion: “I would call in our fleet of Flame Makers and destroy these squalid little animals.”

He was silent for a long time.

“You are shocked, of course,” I said.

“No. I—we—cannot afford to be shocked. We have in fact destroyed cultures that have become corrupt.”

“I am surprised that the great Canopus should use such means.”

“Or surprised at our admitting it?”

“Yes. I suppose that is it.”

For we certainly would not have admitted it, in similar circumstances.

“But when we have been forced to use such means, in order to keep our balances within measure, then these been small local cultures. A city… a group of two or three cities… even a few particularly damaging individuals. At this very time, in the area of the great inland seas…” and he seemed distressed, in pain “…we are being forced to take certain steps… This is not the most pleasant of tasks, this Shikastan assignment.”

“No. It is a horrible place.”

“But are you actually suggesting we should destroy all life over a continent?” he asked reproachfully.

“They should be treated as they treat others.”

“A hard rule, Sirius… tell me, have you ever reflected that our behaviour influences theirs?”

This came too close to certain private thoughts of mine, and I exploded with: “The native tribes may be sympathetic enough now, harmless, but you know as well as I do that given opportunity they will become as bad as the Lelannians. That is why this is such a planet.”

“It is not the fault of the planet.”

“That way of thinking is not within our scope, Canopus,” I said, looking at him as forcefully as I could, hoping that he would—at last, as I then saw it—begin to reveal truths, secrets, Canopean expertise.

“Why isn’t it, Sirius?”

This silenced me. He was saying that I had admitted our inferiority and that he was challenging its inevitability.

“Why? … and here we are,” he added, in a low, reproachful voice.

“Very well then, what do you think should be done?”

“I propose that we space-lift all the Lelannians away from this planet.”

“Where to?”

“Why,” he said smiling, “Shammat, of course. Each to his own.”

I laughed. “There are a million of them!”

“You are rich, Sirius. You have large fleets. You are in the habit of transporting populations from planet to planet. And you suffer from underemployment.”