AHAWK TAKES FLIGHT An American roughleg hawk perches on his trainer's glove before taking flight aboard a twin-engined plane in the United States. The hawk is one of several birds of prey sho:Nn at conferences on ecology and conservation by Morlan Nelson, a U.S. Soil Conservation Service official stationed in Boise, Idaho. Nelson exhibits a variety of these birdsincluding eagles, owls ami falcons-to emphasize the need for preserving all forms of wildlife. Commercial airlines will not carry the ~ birds, so Nelson transports ; them either by automobile or aboard private planes.
SPAN The Magic of Indian Carpets by Elizabeth
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The Formative Years
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Can Man Shape His Future?
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Nandanwan
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by P.R. Gupta I
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The Five Crises of the World's Universities by James A. Perkins
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Front cover Like a sculptor with scissors, a Mirzapur master craftsman carves into the carpet's pile to enhance the design. For a story on carpets -from weaving to marketing-turn to page 2. Photo by Frank Wohl.
Back cover Taking a child to the zoo is just one of the tasks performed by the young American woman in her rqle as mother. Her many other duties are described in the feature on pp. 44-48. Photo: Henry Navratil.
Editorial Staff: Carmen Kagal, Avinash Pasricha, Nirmal K. Sharma, Krishan G. Gabrani, P.R. Gupta. Art Staff: B. Roy Choudhury, Nand K. Katyal, Kanti Roy, Kuldip Singh Jus, Gopi Gajwani. Production Staff: Awtar S. Marwaha, Mammen Philip.
United States Information Service, Bahawalpur House, Sikandra Road, New Delhi-] Monthly 3.
Printer's Name Nationality Address
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Publisher's Name Nationality Address
Arun K. Mehta Indian Vakil & Sons Private Ltd., Vakl/s House, Sprott ]8 Ballard Estate, Bombay-] Daniel P. Oleksiw
American
5.
Editor's Name Nationality Address
6.
Names and addresses of individuals who own the newspaper and partners or shareholders holding more than one per cent of the total capital
I, Daniel P. Oleksiw, hereby declare to the best of my knowledge and belief.
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Bakawalpur House, Silfandra Road, New Delhi-] Catherine S. Scott American Bahawalpur. House, Sikmu/ra Road, New Delhi-] The Government of the United States of America ,f
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Glowing with warm rich colours, these carpets are representative of thousands being sold today in American stores. The infinite variety of Indian carpets, the ancient weaving techniques that produce them and the modern methods that promote them are described overleaf.
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THE SCENE is a New York department store's display of handwoven carpets. Delicate pastel flowers bloom from French Aubusson designs. Bold blue and yellow Chinese medallions muse on soft ivory fields, while intricate Persian arabesques and sprays float across wine-dark seas. Angular geometry from Istanbul or the Caucasus and the unique elephant's foot of Afghanistan compete with stark black and white from Morocco and softly tinted curves from Spain and Portugal. Daring abstracts echo the latest trends in modern art. Despite the international character of the rugs, a shopper's glance at the labels reveals that each is a "cottage industries" product made in India. In this display the housewife will find the perfect luxury car-
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Advertisements in glossy American magazines extol the beauty of Indian carpets. The Mirzapur manufacturers keep abreast of changing trends in taste and fashion. As one ofthem'said, "You name it, we'll make it." pet to enhance her formal living room and perhaps a rug for the children's bedroom. The dazzling variety of Indian carpets may worry a budget-minded husband, but it has enabled India to almost double her exports in the last ten years to Rs. 10.99 crores in 1969-70. Handmade rugs are the nation's leading handicraft, directly employing 110,000 workers and providing jobs for hundreds of thousands more in subsidiary industries such as wool mills, chemical companies and shipping firms. Prospects for future growth are bright.
S.K. Guha, development commissioner for handicrafts at the All India Handicrafts Board, predicts a 15 to 20 per cent annual increase in exports over the next five years. Shoppers abroad are attracted by the carpets' rich designs, the magical words "Made in India," and the charm of a handmade product. Sales appeal is backed by a reputation for quality, for India's rugs are made to last a lifetime. "The best buy for the money," was the almost unanimous verdict of American retailers and importers of handmade rugs when interviewed by the Indian Institute of Foreign Trade in 1968. The secret of India's success lies in the union of ancient weaving skills with sophisticated management and marketing.
Whether they sell to cowboys or jet-setters, stores abroad can order handwoven Indian rugs to please their customers, assured th~t a popular carpet can be reproduced thousands of times in precisely the same colours, design and quality. This flexibility and reliability are vital in the competitive international market where tastes vary from place to place, year to year. Although some carpet designs are universally popular, India's exporters have learned that a best-selling rug in one city may not leave the stores in another. Manhattanites and Montrealers tend to prefer rich colours and ornate designs, while Californians and western Canadians like lighter shades and are more price-conscious. An English housewife wants a traditional but inexpensive rug, but a
A Mirzapur master weaver squats on a huge naksha, the paper design which will soon be ,transformed into a wool carpet. At right. a Kashmiri weqver studies {lje talim that will determine the pattern of his carpet. West German shops for the finest carpets, usually in Persian designs. One mamffacturer recalled sending a yellow sunburst design complete with a classical Greek border to Australia and the United States. The carpet was a runaway success "Down Under," but American stores reported, "It's beautiful, but it won't sell." Undaunted, the exporter modified the rug by removing the border. He was rewarded with large sales in sunny California, but New Yorkers continued to reject the gay, casual design. (continued)
Efforts to pin down local tastes are complicated by the vagaries of fashion. Importers and manufacturers work constantly on new rugs to keep abreast of trends. Often they update traditional pat-. terns by introducing unusual colollrs or by weaving old rug motifs-the mango, the lightning bolt or the lotus-into novel combinations. At other times their imaginations run free. American wheatfields, Chinese junks, Japanese rock gardens, cities, waterfalls and even space stations have inspired carpets. Most carpet manufacturers trust their importers to develop designs that sell. When a leading decorating magazine abroad announces that mauve is chic but gold, last year's rage, is passe, importers rush to make the change. They speed colour plates of new designs to India where samples are quickly woven'. If modifica-
Working in sun-lit factory sheds, embossers and clippers add the finishing touches.
In the tradition of the maharajas, Indian carpet companies accept special orders to suit the customer's wildest fancy.
tions are necessary, importer and manufacturer trade ideas until both are satisfied. Maintaining the tradition of the maharajas, Indian carpet companies also accept special orders for carpets to suit the customer's wildest fancy. Whether it's a picture of a money tree for a bank, a cowboy astride his horse for a gun manufacturer, or a rug illustrating all the major industries of the state of Colorado, India has made it and at less than princely cost. "You name it and we'll do it," was the boast of a carpet manufacturer who proved his point by weaving a portrait of an American woman. Working from a colour photo, he dyed more than 100 hues to get the 60 shades used in the four-by-six-foot rug, including four red tints for the lady's lips and five shades of black for her hair. When the carpet was presented by her husband as a wedding anniversary gift,
70 -1>49 -the lady, needless to say, was surprised and delighted. India's capacity to make almost any rug comes from an industry that is broadly based and highly competitive. Located in cities such as Agra, Jaipur, Amritsa-r, Gwalior, Srinagar and Mirzapur, there are more than 150 significant exporters of rugs. Only two firms export more than a crore of rupees worth of rugs annually, while the majority ship between 10 and 50 lakhs worth a year. Many carpet companies are family businesses where weaving lore has passed from father to son, and all are led by hard-nosed businessmen, eager to get ahead of the other firms. About 95 per cent of Indian carpets for export are known as Mirzapur rugs. The label is actually a misnomer, for weaving villages around Mirzapur in southern D.P. sprawl across both sides of the Ganges
over a more than 100-square-mile area. Local legend claims weaving was introduced in Mirzapur by Persians travelling in the Emperor Akbar's retinue along what is today the Grand Trunk Road. A few weavers were beguiled by the belles of Ghosia village and literally fell by the wayside. Less romantic sources insist the Moguls deliberately fostered the art in I ndia and offer as proof the fine early Indian carpets hanging in some of the world's leading museums. Whether weaving began by accident or design in Mirzapur, her craftsmen have seen many changes as India became a leading exporter of rugs. At the turn of the century Mirzapur's weavers were independent artisans. Each man bought wool and traditional designs from the bazars, dyed his yarn and worked at his own pace. He peddled the completed rugs from buyer to buyer until he found an acceptable price. A busy harvest, a family illness or the marriage of a daughter silenced the loom. These informal work habits were doomed by the 1930s. New styles in clothing, furniture and home decoration changed tastes in rugs, and retailing moved from small shops to vast department stores selling standardized goods in bulk. Carpet companies had to create contemporary patterns and control production if they were to satisfy this market. The death blow to Mirzapur's old practices came when American carpet importers came to India to replace sources in China after the Communist take-over of the mainland in 1950. Here was a vast opportunity for companies able to produce and reproduce large quantities of good rugs. Today Mirzapur's manufacturers control every step of the production process from buying the wool to shipping the cOJUpleted rug. Modern innovations build output and quality without sacrificing the carpets' handmade appeal. The weaver now uses raw materials prepared by the factory. His wool, mainly from Rajasthan and Amritsar, is machine milled instead of hand spun. For a top quality rug, some Australian wool may be blended into the yarn to give his carpet a special sheen. Factory specialists have dyed this yarn with the newest synthetics. These allow subtle variations in shade so that a foreign shopper will find a rug to match her melon sofa, champagne gold curtains or even the other Indian carpet she bought last year. The weaver's yarn is colour-fast, washable
and mothproof, and the fields around Mirzapur that once bloomed with indigo for vegetable dye now grow wheat, sugarcane and paddy. The weaver also gets a design to guide his work. In company shops artisans have painstakingly drawn the pattern on a large piece of graph paper called a naksha. Each square on the naksha represents a knot, and the wise weaver consults his paper carpet constantly as he works. When he carries the design and yarn back to his village, the weaver returns to a world that seems even older than Akbar's legend. Sari-clad housewives peer shyly from mud courtyards, and chattering children chase water buffaloes along narrow paths that meander between the houses and out into the fields. An ancient serenity pervades the villages, where work begins with the rising sun and time is counted on the looms. Tautly strung with cotton warp threads, the rough-hewn wooden looms look like giant harps which the weavers play with the age-old rhythm of their craft. Tie a knot, cut it, make a row, cross it with the weft thread, tamp it down. Again and again as the pattern slowly emerges from balls of coloured yarn. Tie, cut, weft thread, tamp down. Six inches a day is good progress. Working constantly, a team of four weavers takes about two weeks to finish an average nine-by-twelve-foot rug. Larger or more intricate carpets spend months on the looms. Men do the weaving in Mirzapur's villages where most learned the art as children. Novices begin by weaving the middle parts of the rug, while veterans become "sidemen" responsible for making sure the carpet comes out straight. Traditionbound, the women refuse to enter the masculine world of the looms, but help by preparing the yarn. Most weavers are employed by loom owners, who act as middlemen between the individual craftsmen and the companies. True village entrepreneurs, many loom owners began as weavers and saved to buy looms and hire other men. The transistor radio and fan in Mohammed Azimulla's house testify to his growing prosperity. Twenty years ago he was an illiterate weaver earning a few rupees a day. Like many weavers he also owned fields, but unlike most he decided not to invest his weaving income in his fields. Instead Azimulla took his small savings plus money borrowed interest-free continued
from a rug company to buy his first loom. By producing rugs on schedule and up to standard, he has managed to increase his holdings to 16 looms in the village of Dallapati. "I like this work because I can improve myself," Azimulla said. Now a village leader, he proudly boasts that his children attend school. Success stories like Azimulla's are increasing in the rug-weaving -villages, though, as usual, progress has not been greeted with unanimous acclaim. "In the old days designs were simple and easy to weave-we could do what we wanted," complained one conservative in Bikna village. "Now people are more careful about designs and knots and the work is harder." But bicycles, brick houses and new wells show the benefits change has brought to many villages. Boats, bullock carts, rickshaws, horses and even camels are pressed into service to bring the completed rugs back to the factories. Each company holds a "bazaar day" once a week when its courtyard overflows with the brilliant hues of carpets awaiting inspection. While company experts check the design, number of knots and deptlr of pile in each rug, loom owners and weavers anxiously search the manager's face for a smile of approval. Once accepted, the carp~t goes to the factory's finishing specialists. Experts repair any minor defect while other men plait and tie the fringes according to the customer's whim. Highly-trained workers emboss some carpets, carving deep into the pile to accentuate the design. Other rugs are given a mild chemical treatment to create an antique finish. After a final inspection, the rugs are ready for voyages to every corner of the globe. When they reach their destination, the carpets may get an additional cleaning. from the importer, and high-quality rugs are often washed chemically to add lustre. Then, heralded by newspaper and magazine advertising and colourful sales portfolios, they appear in showrooms as enticing examples of India's age-old skills. Most of the rug weaving in other Indian cities follows the pattern of the Mirzapur industry, although variations in the level of skills and production methods add diversity to India's exports. In Kashmir, for example, India's most talented weavers work at looms in the factories. The Kashmiri weaver doesn't read the design from a naksha. Instead a leader chants the knots from a script called
S/Va talim and weavers.on many looms follow his song. Kashmir carpets generally use famous Persian designs such as Kirman, Kashan and Isfahan. The Kashmir School of Design, however, has successfully developed several designs using Kashmiri motifs. Some of the finest weaving in the world keeps production low, but Srinagar's weavers set a high standard of excellence. "Our goal is to raise the unit value of Indian rugs over the next five years," said Mr. Guha of the Handicrafts Board."We hope to get a higher price per square metre by improving quality." Although India has already captured a leading position among handwovens in the United States, Mr. Guha has set his sights on the lucrative Scandinavian and other northern European markets~ Experiments are constantly being made with better wools and more complex designs. Efforts are also under way to ensure a steady supply of skilled weavers. Last year the Handicrafts Board set up three training centres for weavers including the first weaving school in India for women. Rug manufacturers predict that. India's
India has captured a leading position among handwovens in America, but exporters are now setting.their sights on other lucrative foreign markets. growing prosperity will lure men away from the looms to better paying jobs in other industries. The school at Saroi village near Mirzapur is a revolutionary attempt to convince the area's women to abandon their prejudices against working outside the home. The future of the industry may lie in their slender hands.
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S!de by side with industry improvement, India is also attempting to expand foreign markets. International exhibitions, such as Expo 70 in Osaka, Japan, display Indian carpets; recently two teams of manufacturers travelled abroad under government sponsorship to meet importers. India also plans to send a group of craftsmen to the United States in 1971 for a demonstration of weaving techniques in American cities. The HandicTafts, Board has also taken' to modern media with a colour film released in 1970. Produced primarily for foreign audiences, the celluloid carpet showcase in English, French, German and Spanish traces the saga of Indian carpets through the ages and around the world. These promotion efforts reflect a widespread confidence in the future of India's carpet export industry. "In our country we have combined very old traditions with the native intelligence of our villagers and modern business," observed Mr. Guha, "to satisfy the West's craving for products made by human hands." This natural trading affinity promises that the looms of India will weave bridges across the seas for years to come. END
RICHARD NIXON: THE FORMATIVE YEARS "THE LITERATURE on the present occupant of the White House is slim," complains a book reviewer in The New York Times. And it is true. With precious few exceptions-sucD as Earl Mazo's biography, Nixon: A Political Portrait, originally published in 1959 and updated by Earl Mazo and Stephen Hess in 1968-the books on Richard Nixon that have emerged over the years have been notable chiefly for the occasional flashes of brilliance displayed by some of the writers in presenting old information in new formats. Unfortunately for his biographers, Mr. Nixon is that rarity among political figures' -a "private person." His reluctance to talk about his personal life, past and present, is frustrating in the extreme to any author trying to "explain" him. What.is surprising, given his will to win-to "compete," as he puts it-is that he has always been that way, even when he was just beginning in politics. Although most men seeking public o'ffice delight in regaling their audiences with tales of boyhood hardships, Mr. Nixon avoided that vote-getting device. Only rarely did he touch upon his family's modest circumstances during the depression of the 1930s or the long hours he put in at a variety of jobs to bolster the family income. When he did feel it necessary to refer to that period-in making a point about the nation's economy, for example-:-he generally did so by recalling the difficulties which the Nixon neighbours had faced, thereby' eschewing personal references. This reticence was reflected in Mr. Nixon's responses to repeated entreaties from friends and publishers in the 1950s that he write a book about himself. He has acknowledged that he always pleaded that "I was too busy" and that he yielded only after his defeat in the 1960 Presidential election rendered that excuse invalid, at least temporarily. The result was a highly readable work, Six Crises. Yet that volume deals mainly with events that unfolded around him as Congressman, Senator and Vice President. It provides few clues to the influences that
Glimpses into the early background of Richard M. Nixon are revealing of the man and his personality, his stand on key domestic and foreign issues.
"agony." "It turned out to be the seventh major crisis of my life," he said after it was completed. "My respect for those who write books (went) up a hundredfold .... I might start another one, but I am sure I will never finish it!" One wishes that Mr. Nixon had tried his hand at an autobiography, and that he had zeroed in on his early years. For the story of "the young Nixon" not only is an intriguing one in its own right, it is a significant one as well. It does much to explain why he feels as he does on key domestic and international issues. Unfortunately, the attempts by his biographers to tell the story through interviews with former classmates, teachers, .and others who knew him "when" have been lacklustre and largely uninformative. Not so the comments by Mr. Nixon himself during those few and far between occasions when he does hark back to his formative years. They are pithy and revealing. During a recent White House Conference on children, for example, he spoke in a highly personal vein in explaining why he is so deeply concerned with the need for welfare reforms to benefit the nation's needy young. He told his listeners: "I remember back in the Depression years, how deeply I felt about the plight of those people of my own age who used Nixon as a member of the to come into my father's (grocery) store Whittier College football team. when they couldn't pay the bill, because moulded his basic attitudes and concepts their fathers were out of work, and how -influences that manifest themselves to- this seemed to separate them from others day in liis approaches to many of the com- in our school. None of us had any money plex issues with which he must concern in those days, but those in families where himself as President. there were no jobs, and where there was The average man seeking high office is nothing but the little that (welfare) relief eager to have his name on as many books then offered, suffered from more than as possible. It tends to elevate him in pop- simply going without. What they suffered ular esteem to the respected status of "in- was a hurt to their pride that many cartellectual"-a self-deprecating point made ried with them for the rest of their lives. by the much-published John Kennedy "I also remember my older brother. during a post-election chat with Mr. Nixon He had tuberculosis for five years. The¡ in the White House early in 1961. For Mr. hospital and doctor's bills were more than Nixon, however, Six Crises was enough. we (,:ould afford. In the five years before Although he delights in drafting speeches he died, my mother never bought a new on the yellow legal pads he keeps con- ¡dress. We were poor by today's standards, stantly close by, he found writing the book and I suppose were poor even by Depres-
In a family portrait made around 1917, Francis and Hannah Nixon pose with their sons, Harold, Don and Richard, right.
sion standards, but the wonder of it was that we did not know it. Somehow my mother and father, with their love, their pride, their courage and self-sacrifices, were able to create a spirit of self-respect in our family so that we had no sense of being inferior to others who had more .... "Our task today is not only to lift people out of poverty but from the standpoint of the child our task is to erase the stigma of welfare ... and to restore pride, dignity and self-respect to every child in America. "Before closing," Mr. Nixon continued, "I would like to leave with you a few very personal reflections from the perspective of the office I hold. "A President of the United States always thinks about the legacy that he would like to leave the country from the years he
serves in this office. I think often about that in terms of what I can leave for America's children. "I know that the first thing I would like to do for them is to bring peace to America and to the world. And here I speak not just of ending the war (in Vietnam), but of t;:nding it in a way that will contribute to a lasting peace, so that theirs, at last, can be what we have not yet had in this century: a generation of peace. "I speak not only of the absence of war, but also of a peace in which we can have an open world in which all the peoples of the world will have a chance to know one another, to communicate with one another, to respect one another. "The second thing that as President I would like to leave for America's children is a strong, productive and creative economy-one that can provide every family with a floor under its income higher than what is now the ceiling for
most of the world's peoples. "I want to leave them an economy that provides jobs for all with equal and full opportunity, jobs producing not for war but producing for peace. And beyond this, I want America's children in the Jast generation of this century to have the best education, the best health, the best housing that any children have had anywhere, anytime." Mr. Nixon is proud that his father, with only a sixth-grade .education, could have achieved what he did, but he does not believe that other parents should have to work that hard, nor that their children' should have to hold down jobs-as he himself did-at the same time they are trying to master their studies. Nor does he believe that any family should have to sell. land or property, as his did, in order to pay medical bills. Most important of all, of course, is his desire for at least a gener~tion of peace . .The President's feelings on this score reflect the teachings of his parents and his church. His mother was a devout Quaker, a member of the staunchly anti-war re-' ligious order known as the Society of Friends, and his father became a Quaker after their marriage. Much of Mr. Nixon's boyhood centred about the Friends' church in Whittier, California, where the family attended one form of service or another four times each Sunday and several times during the week. Mr. Nixon, in a reflective mood, sums up his attitude in these words: "I don't think anybody could feel more strongly than I do on the .subject of peace. I had it drilled into me from the time I could speak. My mother and my grandmother were both Quakers-and to them peace was everything. And I know that nothing else that we do will matter unless we have peace." Once, years ago, Mr. Nixon declared that in evaluating the ideas and the ideals of any President, "you must look to his early background." In his case, the glimpses are indeed revealing of the man and his philosophy. END
. GAIMAI
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If life is to be better tomorrow, we shall require more technology rather than less. Despite concern about po 11uti on, there is no question that man can live with his technology; the real question is whether he can learn to live with himself
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HE PACE OF SCIENTIFIC and technological achievement has so dramatically changed man's capabilities in the last few decades and brought so many surprises that any projected vision will be necessarily less dramatic than the future reality. Surely the world's population will be stabilized, al-
though at what level is uncertain. The racial balance will undoubtedly be rather different from that at present. There will undoubtedly be more mixing than now, but one cannot say with what results. The bulk of humanity in the future will be gathered in megalopolises, dwelling in huge buildings surrounded by park lands, perhaps covered by domes within which
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the atmospher.e will be maintained rather constant. Outside,tlie fields win be.verdant, lakes and streams cle~r. . Power'consumQtionpercapita will be 'Vastlygre~t~r even than in' the United States today. 'The price per kilowatt will,have been greatly reduced bythe introduction of thermonuclear plants capable of one million megawatts' output or more. ,~. Water wiHbe abundant, thanks to efficientdesalination made possible by cheap power. Thermal pollution will have been replaced by a variety of uses of the heated effluents of these power plants, such as desalination, domestic heating and year-round agriculture. Each individual will have a private, pocket-size, two-way television instrument and immediate personal access to a computer serving as his news source. It will be his privately programmed educational medium, his memory and his personal communicator with the world at large-with his bank, his broker, government agents, shopping services, and so on. Less than five per cent of the working population will be engaged in primary agriculture, with no more thim another 20 per cent engaged in other primary productive activities such as food processing, mineral extraction, construction or manufacturing. The bulk of the labour force, then, will engage in activities currently classified as services rather than production of goods. The principal pursuits of mankind will be cultural, recreational or devoted to the expansion of knowledge and understanding. Most of the diseases which have been man's most ancient enemies will be matters of historic interest only. Each individual may look forward to about four score years of vigorous, healthy, pain-free life before succumbing to the ravages of old age. indeed, f humanity survives to see such a world, necessarily by then national aspirations will have been sublimated by some form of world order. A single, worldwide police force will maintain law and order. The arsenal of nuclear weapons, ballistic missiles and diverse countervailing measures will long since have been dismantled. Even now science has provided the basis for the understanding that is needed to fashion many elements of the dream of a brave new world. This WIllbe fulfilled if mankind can survive the crises of this century. Foremost of these crises is the need to secure a stable world peace. Another major problem involves population, food supplies, environmental quality and resource utilization. Concern for population is scarcely novel. Aristotle warned that" ... neglect of an effective birth control policy is a never-failing,source of poverty, which in turn
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is the parent of revolution and crime." Opponents of measures' to effect population control argue tfiat: given'~hetime and effort required to increase all forms of agriculturaLproductivity sufficiently, Earth ,can sustain a population vastly larger than that at present in nutritionaI.abundance. Undoubtedly this is true. We do not now face the global crisis that Malthus predicted, nor shall.we, although we most certainly will in some specific locales. Since about 1950, worldwide agricultural productivity has grown by about three per cent a year while population increase has averaged just under two per cent. If worldwide per capita food consumption had remained constant at 1955 levels, despite the population increase, by 1975there would have been a world surplus of 40 million tons of wheat and 75 million tons of rice. his will not occur because of rising per capita food consumption and the controlled agricultural productivity practised in varying degrees and kind in the United States, Australia, . New Zealand, Canada and the Argentine. Meanwhile, however, some developing nations, caught up in the worldwide revolution of rising expectations, find themselves short of both food and capital for development. There is even the possibility that some nations might face the spectre of famine in the coming two decades. This could be averted with large-scale help from the major agricultural producers. Thereafter, known technology could so expand food production as to avoid world food problems almost indefinitely but, meanwhile, malnutrition is desperately serious in some tropical and semi-tropical countries. The most cogent argument for population control is that, as now estimated, world population will approximately double by the turn of the century. Ifit were possible to raise the standard ofliving for all of that population so that it would become comparable to that of the average American citizen of today, the drain on the world supply of natural resources would then be 70 times that in 1950,and the drain on the biosphere would be about six to eight times that of today. Our planet, our environment could not conceivably tolerate a continuing insult of that magnitude. Many of the most tragic ills of human existence find their origin in population growth. Hunger; pollution; crime; despoliation of the natural beauty of the planet; extermination of countless species of plants and animals; overlarge, dirty, overcrowded cities with their paradoxical loneliness; continual erosion of limited, natural resources, and the seething unrest which engenders the political instability that leads to international
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conflict and wars-all these derive from the unbridled growth of human populations. If humanity is ever to realize its potential, if life in that future world is to be worth living, population growth must be checked. As for environment and natural resources, bright as the very long-term prospects could be, the immediate future is difficult indeed. If we fail, truly larger populations could well result, irreversibly, in the end of civilization as we have known it. The magnitude of future contributions from the developed to the developing nations is of great importance. For the latter, enlianced agricultural productivity is the chief hope for the accumulation of capital required to pay the costs of entry into a technological civilization. And yet, it isin just those countries where the pro blems 0 f food shortages may.become acu,te. Without external help, the race' between food supply and population will be marginal and it is 'difficult to see any hope of capital accumulation for social development. Pollution in many 'countries is certainly serious. Streams and lakes have been woefully injured, becoming sewers for a melange of all 'of the chemical outpourings of our ciyilization. Yet, happily, this is reversible for the most part. hat is sad today to contemplate is the prospect that, in their eagerness to attain the life-style of the economically advanced nations, developing countries may similarly injure their own environments and deplete th~ir natural resources even more rapidly than did we in the United Sfates â&#x20AC;˘. . It is almost self-evident that population control, environmental qu~lity, resource conservation and, the quality of life are aU facets' of a single central problem which has become a central concern of governments. This may well, be the "hinge of history" when man's long-term future may be decided. If we fail to manage these problems adequately, it is doubtful whether"Civilization can survive. Hence, there is an urgent need for an international organization adequate to these tasks which, in the end, cannot be left to the capricious judgments of so many national governments. This international organization must, on rational scientific grounds, establish worldwide standards of acceptable quality of water, air and foodstuffs and recommend international population policy. It must determine what level of industry and manufacturing, worldwide, is compatible with those standards and popula-, tion so that a steady state may be achieved with nature, with the environment and the utilization of both renewable and non-renewable natural resources. Achievement
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of this goal will yet require a very substantial and development effort.
research
or all our difficulties, the fact remains that the technology which science makes possible is the principal tool this civilization has fashioned to alleviate the condition of man. If life is to be better tomorrow than it was yesterday we shall require more and better science-based technology rather than less. We can no longer tolerate the widespread protein and Vitamin A deficiencies in tropical countries which' so limit their development. Nothing less than a quadrupling of the productivity of the biosphere in the next 30 years will suffice if mankind's basic needs are to be, met. The magnitude of that task for agricultural producers and food processors is self-evident. But time will not wait and we must get on with these tasks immediately if the full human potential of mankind is to be realized. If population control fails, all mankind one day may be destined to eat vegetable equivalents of milk, chicken or meat. There are promising avenues of research with' respe~t to practically all medical disorders today. Elimination of the major lethal and incapaCitating diseases which now afflict mankind is not a hopeless dream. Science is capable of fulfilling our dream. Biological and physical research can permit us to refashion ourselves and our world. If the dream fails, it will be because of the limitations of man as a social creature. Despite the frenetic concern about environmental pollution, there is really no question whether man can live with his technology. The real question is whether man can learn to live with himself-whether he can solve the racial problems; cope with violence and crime; reconstruct and manage large cities; curb the drug culture; develop an adequate system for the delivery of health care; abolish poverty, illiteracy and ignorance the world over, and solve other problems. It is not at all obvious that we have the understanding or the social and political institutions to deal with these furious challenges, but seek them we must. Meanwhile, the long upward struggle of man from his animal origins afford~ cause for hope. Science is still the instrument with which man can END make his dreams come true.
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About the author:' Dr. Handler is president of the National Academy of Sciences in the United States and chairman of the National Research Council. As head ofthemost important scientific body in America, he is an influential spokesman for American scientists. Dr. Handler, who received his Ph.D. degree at the age of 21, has had a lifelong interest in nutrition. He is co-author of a widely-used textbook, Principles of Biochemistry.
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Hope for the mentally retarded a few years ago, they were secluded in dark inside rooms, cut off from the life around them. Today the mentally retarded have emerged"into the open, and their plight is recognized for what it is: a medical and social problem that can be greatly alleviated by the proper methods. :There has been, of course, a radical change in public attitudes towards the retarded. But even more important is their own realization that there is hope, that there is a place for them in the outside world. This concept has been confirmed by a research project recently concluded at the
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NandanwanSchool for the Mentally Retarded in Nagpur. The five-year study was led by Dr. Mrs. Kusum Wankar, the school's medical superintendent, and it was aided by a grant from the Social and Rehabilitation Service of the U.S. Department of Health, Education and Welfare. Covering some 200 persons, the project demonstrated that these people can be trained: they can achieve independence, self-care, work habits and skills. And each small success bolsters self-confidence. As Mrs. Wankar says: "They want opportunity, not pity." (continued)
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Like any normal boy, the youngster above grapples with a maths problem. Chair-caning, left, is one of the inter-
' steps In I I} I I me dtate vocatlOna tram mg. More advanced students operate treadle fret-saws, opposite page. Psychologist
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~.ltVerma glves an lest, top, whlch requires placing blocks in a set pattern.
TEXT BY P.R. GUPTA PHOTOGRAPHS
BY AVINASH PASRICHA
THE RANGEof mental retardation extends retarded cannot always hold down competfrom those so severely handicapped that itive jobs outside, so the workshop absorbs they cannot perform even the simplest some in times of unemployment and protasks to those mild cases where the learning vides regular employment for others. At process has been slowed down. Not all atpresent 55 of the school's alumni have pertain the ability to read and write, but most manent jobs, while 39 work independently can acquire vocational skills. One major in the sheltered workshop. aim of the research project was to explore Another important aspect of the retraining techniques. search project was the setting up of a hostel Nandanwan's experience in this field at Nandanwan. "Their education includes goes back to 1960, when the school was set social adjustment," says Mrs. Wankar, up by the Matru Sewa Sangh, a social we 1- "and the hostel is an ideal place for that." fare organization. The school's initial emGroup living enables them to deal with phasis on education has shifted in recent various social situations. Away from overyears to vocational training as a more protective parents and relations, they are permanent means of rehabilitation. encouraged to take independent decisions. Pre-vocational training at Nandanwan The emotion-charged atmosphere of the is primarily therapeutic-for teaching mohome is often disturbing for mentally retor and sensory skills. As students protarded persons, and the hostel provides gress, the difficulty level of each craft is the surroundings that are both congenial and basis for moving from one step to the next. affectionate. The latter is important, says For example, coil' work calls for hand-foot Mrs. Wankar. She explains: "At an IQ co-ordination and concentration; knotting level below 50, the retarded person does towel-ends requires the ability to count. not know why you are angry with him. From then on to toy-making, book-bindAnd there are other human reactions ing, chair-caning and weaving. beyond his comprehension. But love is A key feature of the study was the one thing everyone understands, to which establishment of a sheltered workshop. The everyone responds." E.ND 2S"2 - 0'7-'
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Guided by an instructor, a trainee works on an elaborate lace tablecloth, above. From this step, which tests his ability to count and to tie knots, the student goes on to weaving. A relatively simple occupation(or beginners is painting wooden toys, below.
The article on Francis Marion Crawford in the December issue of SPAN seems to have stirred up a minor literary storm. We have had several letters asking for Mr. Isaacs, the 1882 novel that Crawford wrote about India. Other letters trace the identity of the novel's hero and suggest avenues of research to unCOl'cr more information about Crawford's life. We reproduce on this page a selection from some of these. From Calcutta, Charles Newton writes: J must congratulate you on your 'archaeological' feat in digging out so much fascinating information about this little-known writer. And just as you are curious to know as to who the original of Mr. Isaacs could have been, J, too, having known his identity, was curious to know more about the elusive Mr. Marion Crawford. The original of Crawford's hero was.ÂĽr. Imre Schwaiger, who used to live in princely splendour on Alipore Road, near the Swiss Hotel, in Delhi-No.8 Alipore Road, to be exact, I think. The beautiful gr~unds of his home were like the sculptural section of a museum, with a number of plaster and marble figures serving as 'sentinels' all round. As a boy, I often passed Schwaiger's home and each time I did so, I would be most intrigued about the occupation and personality of its 'arty' occupant. But I lacked the enterprise and courage to interview the mysterious (to me at least) Mr. Schwaiger and discover why so many o~jets d'art should be placed all over his grounds. Some time in 1941, I think, there was an interesting news item in The Statesman reporting the death of Mr. Imre Schwaiger. He was a Hungarian art coIIector with a colourful background. Apart from his friendly relations with a number of Viceroys, he had been a close confidant of the Nizam of Hyderabad, who possessed a rare diamond. An important highlight in Schwaiger's career was that he acted as middleman for the sale
of the priceless diamond, but just as he was about to complete the deal (which would have made him a millionaire overnight), it was discovered that the stone was a fake, much to his discomfiture. The obituary said that he was the original of the hero in a novel by Marion Crawford. When I read this account I cursed myself for my lack of courage in cal1ing on the flamboyant Mr. Imre Schwaiger, whom I had often seen seated under a garden umbrella on the emerald-green lawn in front of his mansion, in animated conversation with some beautiful young ladies-presumably his grand-daughters or some such kin. Many of the older residents of Delhi, particularly those in the social swim, should be able to give you a good deal of information about Jmre Schwaiger. Of course, as you know, up to 1947 Simla was the summer capital of India, and Schwaiger used to go there along with the Governmental exodus. I'm not so sure about Schwaiger being 'skil1ed in the arts of love and war,' but that he was an extremely romantic figure is undoubted. Prof. Armando Menezes of Karnatak University, Dharwar: In your article on Marion Crawford you refer to one Acunha or Cunha, who influenced Crawford. I am sure the reference is to Dr. Gerson da Cunha, a medical doctor, who was also a linguist and did a good deal of valuable historical research around Bombay city. Dr. da Cunha's great-grandson is an advertising executive and wel1-
known amateur actor of the same name. If you could contact him, he might give you further information on his ancestor. In response to our query, Gerson da Cunha replies: Family records suggest that the only likely da Cunha did not spend much time in Rome. Florence and Vienna, yes. Not much help, I know, but history as a way of life died in our family two generations ago. Miss P. Manorama of Hyderabad: As a student of literature, I agree that the study of this author would be very interesting as a thesis subject. It is really a matter of pride for Indians that an American should come to India for the sole purpose of studying Sanskrit and attain such scholarship in the language. Hari Singh U. Asnani of Udaipur: Crawford has created in the character of Mr. Isaacs a person of great strength and nobility .... In view of the fact that Crawford was devoted to the cause of learning and mastering Sanskrit, his life should equal1y interest scholars of Sanskrit. Is it known whether he has left any work written in Sanskrit? It is hoped that some Indian literary researcher wil1 throw more light on Crawford's life and literature. Note: As far as we know, Crawford left no work in Sanskrit. The novel Mr. Isaacs has long been out of print, but a copy is held by the Bombay University Library. A biography of Crawford is available at the American Studies Research Centre, Hyderabad.
Sales of records have jumped 1,000 per cent since 1954. The high level of recording and marketing techniques is part of the reason. The rest is "in the grooves."
Artful packaging, which employs some of today's most imaginative and arresting design talent, can playa large part in the making of a hit record. Examples of record jackets styled to attract buyers are illustrated Oil these and succeeding pages. Below, the Gary Burton Quartet blends virtuosity wilh showmanship.
WHAT DOES IT TAKE to strike gold in the recording industry? Musicianship? Yes. Personality? Yes. Something else? Definitely yes. For example, of all the successful recording artists in 1969, top honours went to a recording group that was not a group of recognizable personalities at all but a concept, instead-a combine of anonymous performers billed as the Archies. The group was featured initially as the musical accompaniment of an animated TV series based on a comic strip, "Archie." Immediately, though, they created something of a recording sensation with American youngsters. Their hit single, "Sugar, Sugar," sold more than six million copies in 1969, making it the year's best seller. Such success, of course, is to a large extent the product of craftsmanship and marketing know-how within the industry. But it also reflects the burgeoning of the industry itself during the last 15 years. For recordings, once thought headed for an early death (continued)
Reprinted by permission from Electronic Age, Summer 1970.
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with the advent of radio, then supposedly relegated to near-oblivion by that miraculous invention called television, have become the fastest growing medium of home entertainment. In 1954, U.S. retail sales (list price) totalled $182.7 million. The total record and tape sales in 1969 reached S1.6 billion, and sales during 1970 are estimated at around $2 billion. Why? Because, says a leading independent merchandiser of economy-priced records, "recorded music is still one of the least expensive forms of professional entertainment for the consumer, and it can be enjoyed over and over again." Another reason stems from the nature of America's fast-paced technological society in the mid-1950s. A generation of World War II babies was becoming a generation of affluent teen-agers, and the recently developed "rock 'n roll" sound fairly represented their response to the sociopolitical environment. At first, rock music was of a simple, basic form-plaintive laments sung to the accompaniment of two or three guitar chords. Then came the so-called "British explosion" of 1964, beginni'1g with the success of the long-haired Beatles and, later, other such groups as Herman's Hermits, the Dave Clark Five, and the earthy Rolling Stones. This element brought a certain sophistication to rock music, with lyrics evolving from "I love you, yeah, yeah, yeah" to statements about self-identity, personal freedom, drugs, and sex. The group sound became the pop sound of the 1960s. Yet, even among groups there was a wide diversity of styles. There was the sweet California swing of The Mamas, and The Papas, and there was the bouncing country rock of The Lovin' Spoonful. There were the wry and melodic innova-
tions of the Beatles, the i,magistic poetry of Bob Dylan's electronic folk rock, the psychedelic "acid rock" of The Jefferson Airplane. It probably comes as no surprise to anyone with a radio or television set, a gramophone or a teen-ager in the family that pop music today accounts for 75 per cent of all recordings sold in America. Pop (including rock, country, folk, and so-called "easy listening" music) is the dominant sound of the record business. Classical music garners 7 per cent of the market, leaving the remainder to such diverse categories as jazz, Broadway and other show albums, movie sound tracks, children's records, and the spoken word-although, in the case of a Broadway show such as "Hair" or such movies as "Easy Rider" and "Midnight Cowboy," the music is undeniably of the pop idiom. Market researchers at RCA Records estimate the youth market in America at 49 million potential buyers-with teen-age girls responsible for the greatest portion of actual spending. Big sales mean big money. In 1969, for example, singer Tom Jones produced six albums for London Records that sold more than $1 million apiece. Capitol's Glen Campbell earned four such albums; and RCA's Elvis Presley, who has been awarded more Gold Records than any other performer in history, had three. "There is no formula," says one executive, "no magic way to determine a hit. Sometimes you think you have a tremendous record, and you send it out, and it drops dead." A hit record, in industry terms, doesn't necessarily mean a million seller. To get a grasp on the upper rungs of the pop charts, a single .must sell at least 200,000 copies, more likely 300,000. An album is considered a hit if it sells upward of70,000 copies.
Three stylish young ladies, Diana Ross & The Supremes (left). were probably the best-known exponents of the "Detroit sound"-a heavy, rocking beat with a strong Negro gospel-singing flavour.
Sales figures are compiled by the Recording Industry Association of America, which independently audits data supplied by its 55 member record companies. Member companies now account for 90 per cent of all record production and sales in the United States. Each million seller-either a single seiling a million copies or an album that earns SI million in tape and record sales (based on one-third list prices)-is formally recognized by the association with the award of a Gold Record. The trophy is actually nothing more than a thinly plated metal disc manufactured at a cost of $10, but it has become the sales standard of the industry. "The idea of the Gold Record has been around quite a while," says Henry Brief, executive director of the association. "But in the '50s, it got to be such a publicity gimmick that it lost its meaning. Every performer who could stand in front of a microphone was given a golden copy of his product' by the company he recorded for. In 1958, we started authenticating sales figures through a private accounting firm. Every year since, m()le and~re-companies have co-operated in our effort, and now our Gold Records are prized throughout the industry." However, few record executives believe that these awards have much real effect on either record sales or an artist's career. As one company executive put it, "They're always after-the-fact awards, and by the time they're given out, the record has already had its impact. The dealers know it's a hit." The association, of course, does not limit its role to the handing out of gold discs. Basically, it is an organization representing the recording industry's interests in Washington and in state capitals. It is actively involved in such matters as postal rates, copyright laws, marketing statistics, and the prevention of record and
tape counterfeiting. (Legitimate record companies estimate losses of S100-150 million a year through counterfeit reproduction of their works.) In addition, the association acts as the industry's public-relations arm and sets record engineering standards for its members. The mechanics of recording can be an expensive proposition. To produce a single record costs an average of $3,500; a longplaying album, about $17,000. Gone are the days when a band would assemble in front of a microphone and simply run through its song a couple of times. Today's records are pieced together by means of multi-track control panels. Vocals are recorded on one or more tracks, rhythm accompaniment on other tracks, orchestral parts on still others. All are mixed onto a final master tape. Such sophisticated techniques allow for an extremely wide variety of tonal effects scarcely hinted at in the 1950s (when such musicians as Les Paul and Mary Ford were experimenting with multiple-track recordings). Overseeing this operation is the A&R (Artist and Repertoire) man. Essentially, he is the record's producer. The A&R man hires the musicians, oversees their musical arrangements, budgets studio time, judges the quality of performance, directs the recording session, and helps prepare the resulting tapes into a finished recording. He is the one man, then, who is involved at every stage of planning and production. He must not only be attuned to what the public wants; he must also know how to produce it. Performers rely heavily on his guidance, and many will work only with a particular favourite-even switch company affiliations in order to work with him. The studio has thus become both an electronics laboratory and a miniature concert hall; and studio time spent in the making of a record has tripled in just the last five years. Pop musicians today must
hear in playback the sounds they have produced in order to organize them into a finished recording. Frequently, certain sounds suggest revisions and additions that alter the original concept of the performance. Reportedly, the Beatles spent some 900 studio hours producing their famous "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band," an album that won two "Grammy" awards (engineering and cover design) in 1968. Like the Gold Record, the coveted "Grammy" is an after-the-fact tributeostensibly to artistic, rather than commercial, success. Taking its cue from Hollywood's "Oscar," the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences established this prize 12 years ago. Each year, its members (more than 3,000 musicians, singers, conductors, producers, engineers, composers, and arrangers) vote for the best individual performances in 45 categories. Winners in last March included The Fifth Dimension for Best Contemporary Performance by a Group ("Aquarius"/ "Let the Sunshine In"), Johnny Cash for Best Male Country Vocal Performance ("A Boy Named Sue"), and Leontyne Price for Best Classical Vocal Soloist Performance (two scenes from Samuel Barber's "Antony and Cleopatra" and "Knoxville: Summer of 1915"). "We try to be oblivious to sales when we vote," says George Simon, executive director of the academy's New York chapter. "Of course, many times the best records are the biggest sellers. But the real reason the 'Grammy' was set up was to recognize quality and creativity. We try to be the conscience of the industry, but sometimes a conscience is hard to keep when people are faced with the profits." Awards notwithstanding, sales figures remain the most important measure of a record's success. Record companies have, therefore, set up elaborate promotion, marketing, and advertising departments intensely aware of and specifically geared
to the fiercely competItIve nature of the record business. The national promotion manager's staff of regional and local promotion men are the shock troops of the business. They visit radio stations regularly to bring new releases to the attention of programme directors and disc jockeys. "There's no doubt," says the manager of advertising and sales promotion for one of the country's major record manufacturers, "that air play is the most important factor in the making of a hit record. Without it, you're dead." Conversely, recordings have become the backbone ofradio broadcasting. Nearly 80 per cent of all programming, according to recent industry estimates, is recorded music. Air play is usually followed by fullscale publicity aimed at the general public. The choicest new records are advertised in such influential music trade publications as Billboard, Cashbox, and Record World. Radio commercials are scheduled throughout the day. Press kits (colourful packages that usually include a copy of the new record, photographs, a biography of the featured artist, and a brief sales pitch) are sent to newspaper and magazine writers and critics. Live concerts are arranged and personal interviews offered to the media. To draw the attention of prospective record buyers, companies have gone heavily into the artful packaging of their products. Some of today's most imaginative and arresting photography and design have been created to fill the racks of record shops. There is a limit, though. Clever packaging may count heavily in the making of a hit record, as may novelty recording techniques and tie-ins with other media. But the fundamental requirement for success is the popular appeal of the performing artist or artists. "You can only go so far in generating excitement," says one veteran recording executive, "because if it's not in the grooves, it's just not going to make it."
In an earlier, less complex . . era, pop mUSICwas Jazz. Today, vital and creative as ever, jazz is a broad musical category of its own. /1 r:?L- ~
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Four-and-a-half decades in music and still pioneering, pianist -bandleader-compose r Duke Ellington (below, left) has been cailed "one of the most potent, vital, and timeless figures in jazz." Bringing jazz and country music and rock together is the Gary Burton Quartet. led by vibraharpist Burton (below).
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LI KE cant, jargon and dialect everywhere, American slang tries for a quick, easy, personal mode of speech. In many cases-the slang of students, convicts, ethnic groups, sports enthusiasts, jazz musicians-it is a purposely obtuse means of communication with #1e primary objective being that it is fully intelligible only to initiates. Thus, many such words and phrases come into currency as a means of excluding outsiders from the meaning of conversation of a group. Frequently, when a bit of argot becomes generally popular, the group which invented it will abandon the phrase and substitute another; thus slang is one of the most flexible and volatile forms of language. In the language of college students-at a time when almost half the population of the United States is under 25 years old-the process by which slang words are popularized can easily be seen. Slang is, in part, an effort to create one's image in one's own mind and the minds of others. It is part of establishing a group's identity, to legitimize itself. Students take pleasure in using words and phrases which are incomprehensible to parents and older persons. Beyond its desire to obfuscate, each generation of students has ideas, experiences and moods uniquely its own and has always needed to invent or adapt words to describe them. Among the influences on current student music slang-which include the sources from which the terms were borrowed-are (young people are the main purchasers of popular music phonograph records, including jazz, rock and folk); the Civil Rights Movement (student participation in the movement to achieve full equality of the Negro began in the 1950s and introduced into the campus vocabulary many slang terms previously used only by Negroes; this influence continues to be very strong) ; the protest and peace movements and the "hippie" or "beat" philosophies, which incorporate interest in Oriental philosophy (especially Zen Buddhism) and other non- European thought with experimentation with a lon-regimented concept of existence. The glossary below is a highly selective sampling; it does not by any means attempt to list all words and phrases in current student slang usage, many of which are "earthy." Nor have all these phrases currency nationwide-you would be more apt to hear more of them used at large urban universities than at small rural colleges. There are also geographical variations. Certain other slang phrases are omitted because they have been around for a long time and thus have no generational importance, or.because they have passed - into slang usage by such a large portion of the general population that they have become part of the current language pattern.
PAD: place of lodging or bed.
PERSONS, PLACES .AND THINGS:
SCENE: any activity, mode of life or pastime. "I'm going to make [attend] the movie scene." TOUGH CHICK: attractive girl. HIPPIES: although used to
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long hair, outlandish clothes, describe a wide range of people communal living. who exhibit .anti-social attitudes, . STRAIGHT [OR] SQUARE: originally it applied to persons who peacefully rejected (used as both noun and materialistic society, its jobs, adjective), a person who is values, social and sexual mores. accepting of traditional middleCharacteristics often include class attitudes; old-fashioned
and dull; less sophisticated than the group with which the speaker identifies himself.
because his father says he must learn the family business." TO HANG LOOSE: to have no cares or worries; to be calm and collected in a new situation; to be nonchalant.
UNCLE TOM: a person-black or white-who is weak, anxious to please. From the character Uncle Tom in Harriet Beecher Stowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin.
NITTY -GRITTY: the heart of the matter; the hard facts or harsh realities of a situation.
KICKS: exci ternen t, thrills or pleasure. "We did it for kicks."
CAT: a person, usually someone hip ("cool cat"), well-dressed
GIG: a task or routine, frequently one considered a waste of time. From jazz slang meaning "a short-lived job playing music." , BAG: I. A person's major interest. 2. A person's characteristic disposition, mood or way of life. The word can refer to almost anything with which a person is closely involved-his job, favourite art form, habits or vices. "Writing is his bag." BREAD: money, perhaps a more refined version of "dough," popular slang for money in the last generation.
TO BE HUNG-UP: to be obsessed with something; to be upset over a problem or dilemma. "He's hung-up
THE MAN: the law, a law enforcement officer. In jazz, the leader of the band. Among Negroes, a white man or white men in general.
TO BLOW 0 E'S COOL: to lose one's composure or self-control; especially, to express strong, irrational feelings or emotions.
FUZZ:
TO COP OUT: to compromise or abandon one's ideals or principles, to withdraw from involvement with a cause or plan because of a failure of conviction or nerve.
the police.
SHADES:
sunglasses.
WHEELS: automobile, have wheels."
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frenzied, excited, wild. Also unboundedly enthusiastic.
and life-style. Journalists adopted the adjective as a term of opprobrium; not so students.
GROOVY: term of approval for a person or thing.
GAS: anything exceptionally · enjoyable; whatever grabs you · (see "to grab"); also, to talk , effusively: .~
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MAN: term of direct address, usually implying that the person addressed is hip and the speaker is sincere.
UPTIGHT: tense, nervous, inhibited, narrow-minded.
DROP-OUT: a student who has withdrawn from school before graduating, or has abandoned working towards the middle-class goals of a successful career, wealth and social success.
APE (USUALLY IN THE iI PHRASE "TO GO APE"):
' BEAT: 1. totally exhausted, or 2. spiritually enlightened as in "beatific." The "beat" generation was the forerunner of the hippies, generally more passive, but similar in dress
STRUNG OUT: psychologically disturbed; tense, worried or fearful. Also thin, weak or sick.
DRAG: a person, thing, event, place or activity that is boring or tedious. "It's a drag."
FLAKY: uninhibited, imaginative. Much like "kooky," which implies eccentricity.
("sharp cat"), wealthy or important ("fat cat"), etc. Originally referred to jazz personalities, possibly because they moved constantly from place to place.
BABY: (noun; an interjection) a familiar form of address for either men or women.
BUST: usually, an arrest, as used by students. It can also refer to a failure of any kind.
· HANG-UP: a problem or mental block, something that causes excessive worry or bother; an obsession or inhibition.
COOKING; WITH IT: to comprehend, be in tune with. "Now you're cooking." "He's really with it."
"I don't
VARIOUS STATES OF MIND, ACTION OR ATTITUDE HIP: aware, sophisticated. SHOOK [ORl ALL SHOOK UP: excited, stimulated, disturbed, upset. Literally "shaken." OUT OF SIGHT: magnificent, unbelievable, superlative.
TO FREAK OUT: to lose one's sanity, mental stability, or self-control; to behave in a peculiar manner. TO MAKE IT: 1. to succeed; 2. to be true to one's personal values. TO PUT DOWN: to reject scornfully; to criticize something or someone severely. TO PUT [SOMEOI'JEjON:-an elaborate form of teasing, or "kidding," in which the speaker attempts to make a person the butt of a joke by convincing him that something worthless or false is valuable or true, or that the speaker is serious when he is not. TO BRING [SOMEONE] DOWN: to depress, sadden, deflate euphoria.
TO BUG [SOMEONE]: annoy or displease.
to
GOOD THI G GOING: an advantageous situation. "He"s got a good thing going." LATER:
goodbye.
LIKE: 1. used at the end of a sentence in place of "as," "as if," "it will be as if," etc. "When he dies, I'll be robbed like. I'll have no more father." Saul Bellow, Seize the Day, p. 92.; 2. Used without adding to or changing the meaning of the sentence: "It's like cold" (It is cold). TO DIG: to understand something fully; to be in essential rapport with, such as a person or piece of music. Also used as a simple synonym for "understand," as in "Do you dig?" TO GRAB [SOMEONE]: to interest, startle or cause a strong emotional response to someone or something. Some music or film, statement or person can evoke the response. "That really grabs me." -TO RAP: to chat with someone in a friendly manner; to express opinions. Probably a short form of "rapport." TO SCORE: to succeed in making a good impression or advancing oneself or in fulfilling some desire. SOUL MUSIC, SOUL FOOD: Negro music or food. The adjective is used approvingly of anything pertaining to Negro personality or culture. 'sourmusic is Based on the melancholy Negro "blues." Soul food is food commonly associated with Negroes from the Southern United States. TO SPLIT: to depart; to leave a place, gathering or other person. Equivalent to "cut out." TO TURN [SOMEONE] ON: to please, excite or cause joy; , to be appealing to someone. "He turned me on." END
Running a serpentarium is a full-time job, but a young American herpetologist does this-and still finds time for study and research on Indian snakes. Rom Whitaker, who caught his first python at the age of 12, says: "I guess snakes are in my blood."
At left, Whitaker has a friendly conversation with a cobra, a snake he insists is much misunderstood, milch maligned. Right, venom is collected by forcing the snake to bite rubberized Dacron stretched tight over a glass. ,
NAKEMAN OF MADRAS
continued
WHITAKERspends most of his time in a snake pit. Walking confidently where most people fear to tread, he manoeuvres among hissing vipers and pulls venomous cobras from cool hiding places in the earth. Sometimes he even carries a giant python on his shoulders like a serpentine shawl. Snakes are a hobby and a vocation for Whitaker, who operates the Madras Snake Park. Despite the abundance of popular myths about serpents, the young herpetologist insists that "the lack of real knowledge is fantastic." To dispel at least some of this ignorance, Whitaker has gathered some 300 snakes in a serpentarium dedicated to education and research. The Madras Snake Park is nestled among the green fields and palm trees of Selaiyur, a village about 15 miles from Madras. At a distance Whitaker's project has the unpretentious appearance of a group of wells shielded from the sun by thatch roofs typical of South India. But closer inspection reveals nine deep pits which contain 25 varieties of poisonous and non-poisonous snakes living among miniature trees made of branches, pools of water, shaded ledges, rocks and grass. As his visitors, who might be fellow snake buffs or simply curious tourists with goose bumps crawling up their arms, peer down into the pits from positions of safety, Whitaker-who speaks Hindi, Tamil and Kannada in addition to English-discusses the various sp;~cies and fields the inevitable barrage of questions. In one pit an innocuous-looking but deadly common krait darts under a tiny palm tree. Nearby a spotted brown Russell's viper, regarded by many as the world's most toxic snake and by Whitaker as the "hardest to handl~," basks in the sun. The saw-scaled viper in another pit rubs together the tiny saws on its scales to make a hissing sound before it strikes. The beautiful black-andyellow banded krait is poisonous but timid. "He never biteshe's just an earthworm," Whitaker says. Everyone wants to see the cobras, and the herpetologist obliges by using his snake stick-actually a modified golf club with a hook at the end-to disturb a dull grey snake until it raises its head and spreads its familiar hood. "Anyone can be a snake charmer," Whitaker insists, noting that the cobra can only strike a distance approximately equal to the height of its head from the ground. Cobras are perhaps the most myth-ridden of all reptiles, and Whitaker tries to replace fiction- with fact. He explains that the snake does not chase people as some believe, nor ooes it steal milk from cows, another common superstition. As for the popular notion that a cobra in water will never bite, the expert warns, "Don't bet on it!" Whitaker talks about snake bite from personal experience. Now 27, he has been bitten three times by poisonous snakes, twice by rattlesnakes and once by a water mocassin. He owes his survival to rapid treatment with antitoxins which he says are "100 per cent effective. It's just a question of getting the injection in time." Although he is a cautious and skilled snake handler, he always keeps antitoxins in his refrigerator at the park. But Whitaker stresses that most snakes are harmless, pointing to the striped keel back or the trinket snake as examples of snakes both beautiful and benign. A bite from a non-poisonous snake can kill, he says, only when the. victim mistakenly believes he has ROMULUS
been bitten by a deadly snake and goes into fatal shock. Ev~n a bite from a poisonous snake is not necessarily lethal. Whitaker himself recently received a "fang slash" from a cobra when the snake bit his thumb but failed to inject any venom. Dry bites occur naturally when a snake has used its poison to kill its prey, but the Madras Snake Park's inhabitants often involuntarily donate their venom to modern medicine. Whitaker collects venom by forcing his snakes to bite a piece of rubberized Dacron stretched over a glass. He dries the poison, using a vacuum desiccation process, and sells it to biochemical laboratories for use in a variety of medical products. Venom is the raw material for antitoxins and cobra venom yields a painkiller Whitaker calls "better than morphine" to ease suffering in illnesses such as cancer, and arthritis. A derivative of Russell's viper venom helps in dental extractions because it speeds blood coagulation. Although he now sells only to companies in India, Whitaker sees a high potential in sales to foreign firms and has applied for an export licence. Venom, however, now brings little revenue to the snake park which is financed primarily by a grant from the World Wildlife Fund. Visitors pay a 25 paise admission fee. "I don't like to charge anything," Whitaker says, "because I want people to learn. But each visit does take a lot of time." Whitaker devotes his free moments to research on Indian snakes which he complains is "a lost subject." He collects careful notations on snake behaviour and has published articles in such periodicals as the Bombay Natural History Society Journal, the Illustrated Weekly of India and the Indian Monitor. He is also compiling a lexicon of local names for snakes and photographing every new species that comes to the snake park. "Just taking a photo of every Indian snake would be an important contribution to science," he says, adding that he plans to use his findings to write a comprehensive popular book on Indian snakes. Although Whitaker hunts snakes all over India, many of the species studied, photographed and exhibited at the snake park are obtained from local lrulu tribesmen. Whitaker considers them
some of India's best snake catchers and says his Irulu assistant, Nadesan, "knows more about snakes than I do." The Madras Snake Park caters primarily to Indian snakes, but foreigners are welcome too. The park's senior resident is a rattlesnake from Orangeburg County, South Carolina, and Whitaker has developed a mail-order friendship with a Czechoslovakian collector whom he has never met. "We sort of trade reptiles," he explains. "I send him liz~rds and pe sends me snakes." Whitaker has been catching and keeping snakes for as long as he can remember. "I guess snakes are in my blood-call it genetic coding," he says, adding that as a boy in Hoosick, New York, "I carried snakes in my pockets and always had one inside my shirt." His parents tolerated his unusual hobby despite occasional crises such as the time a relative, who was definitely not a snake lover, happened upon one of Rom's pets in the glove compartment of the family car. Eventually Whitaker's family grew to expect surprises and today he says, "more people would be interested in reptiles if parents were patient and willing to put up with a few snakes around the house." Whitaker came to India with his mother in 1951 and while a student at the High Clerc School at Kodaikanal continu~d to study his favourite subject. He caught his first python and cobra by the time he was 12 and soon had a first-rate collection of local snakes. "I was always roaming the jungles," he recalls. "They rarely saw me around the school." After graduation he returned to the United States to try college for a year, but lost interest when he found that the zoology department at the University of Wyoming did not share his passion for snakes. So he joined the Merchant Marine, hoping to work his way back to India as a deckhand. "I swear one ship shanghaied me," he says. "They promised we would get to India, but the closest we came was Karachi." Whitaker left the sea for snakes in 1962 when he joined the staff of the Miami Serpentarium near Miami, Florida. His boss was William Haast, the famed herpetologist who has survived
more than 100 bites from poisonous snakes. "He was like a god to me," Whitaker says. "I cleaned the snake pits, guided tourists, helped with venom extraction, fed the snakes. The pay was nothing, but I developed my professional interest under Haast." After two years in Miami, Whitaker joined the U.S. Army where he worked as a medical lab technician and learned to operate much of the equipment he now uses at the snake park. He spent his vacations snake catching, first in the rice paddies of Japan and later in the mountains near El Paso, Texas. Besides regulation equipment, Whitaker's wall locker in Texas contained a private collection of rattlesnakes. "They used to rattle when I came into the room and I'd beg them to be quiet," he remembers. Military service completed, Whitaker returned to India in 1967 and after an initial attempt to establish a snake park near Bombay, moved to Madras in 1969. "I just like it so much here," he explains. "I spent nine years in school in Tamil Nadu, and if you're brought up somewhere you really like it." Whitaker's affection for Madras seems to be reciprocated. Visits to the snake park have been encouraging, and recently the government of Tamil Nadu granted him permission to move his park to the Guindy Deer Sanctuary. "It's perfect," he says of the new location. "I hope to show snakes in as natural an environment as possible, so the display itself will be a research project." One goal of Whitaker's new park will be to campaign for the protection of snakes. The python has recently been declared a "protected animal" in Tamil Nadu, a move Whitaker praises, but too often in conservation projects, he says, "Snakes are at the bottom." According to Whitaker, snakes are important elements in the ecological balance and help man in many ways. For example, they are unsung agricultural heroes when they kill rats which eat foodgrains. Through his snake park and research Whitaker hopes to overcome the average man's dislike of snakes by publicizing the good things they do. Although the results of his efforts remain to be seen, the downtrodden reptiles could hardly have a more enthusiastic advocate. END
The increasing number of students, paucity of funds, new THERE IS not just a single crisis of the the universities of Paris and Mexico. university; there are several crises. Any Those countries that have tried to regulate this tide by turning aside large one of them by itself would be enough to cause serious trouble. They are close- fractions of the new graduates from secondary school have run into social ly related to one another and their solution will probably require a major opposition, which has been matched change in the organization,¡ structure only by the reaction of students who have been admitted to find no places and mission of higher education around the world. prepared for them. The first crisis is that of numbers. he central fact about numWhile experiences differ from country bers is that we have opened to country, on the average the number wide the gates to secondary of students entering higher education education but have planned has doubled in the decade from 1960 to 1970. Even this swollen number will higher education on the traditional at least double in the next decade. If basis of professional standards and high there were no other problems, this selectivity. It is this mismatch of numastonishing growth would, by itself, bers and of social doctrine that is at the result in almost intolerable strains on core of the crisis ,of numbers. We are most institutions of higher education in trying to pour the ocean into our glasses and we are getting wet. most countries. The second cris'is of the universities The root causes of this increase are to be found in the requirements of is that of finance, which stems directly modern technological society. The need but not exclusively from the crisis of for trained or even semi-trained mannumbers. Because universities were not power is unending. No country and no prepared for the doubling of student people have a chance of entering the entrance during the decade of the 'sixmodern world with only a small frac- 'ties, they are suddenly faced with large tion of the population attaining the demands for funds, for which neither equivalent of a secondary-school degree. fiscal policy nor tax structures were adeAnd no country and no people can quately prepared. The result has been hope to provide the¡leadership necessary shortages in every part of the system, for a modern society if only a very small including both manpower and money. fraction acquires the equivalent of a The budgets of the universities have college or university degree. gone up not only to accommodate a doubled enrolment within a decade, but ost countries have de- , also to deal with the improvidence that mocratized ¡their sec- comes from continuing old patterns ondary education. In which are unnecessarily expensive. The many places, secondary shocking fact is that the productivity of higher education has not improved, education was the selective and narrow route through which entrance to college during this decade, the per capita cost and university was determined. Admis- of student education has increased, and sion to the university was really con- the effect of these multiplying factors and soaring budgets has fallen largely trolled by careful selection for secondary on the public treasuries-indeed,' in school. With the widening of admissions most countries, exclusively on the public to secondary education, however, traditional policies of automatic entry into treasuries. As a result of these twin crises of university have led to enrolments that, numbers and costs, there is hardly a in many cases, are almost grotesque. Over 100,000 students are, enrolled in university in the world that is not in
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financial difficulty that runs all the way from serious to catastrophic. The consequences are not difficult to discover. The first is an enormous increase in the use of public funds. Another is an increase in public surveillance of academic expenditures-which has in turn raised problems about the future autonomy of individual institutions and of the whole educational system. For many countries, if not most, higher education has been supported almost exclusively by public funds as a matter of tradition. For them the development of new relationships between university and State will not be so difficult, but they are already experiencing the effects of the public demand that their governments exercise tighter control over academic expenditures. . For those countries where a large part of higher education has been privately financed, as in the case of the United States, Japan and India, an increased dependence on public funds creates a brand of academic trauma. To surrender independence because of financial need is very seldom a graceful exercise.
I
n the United States as well as other countries, it is the students who have presented the university with the third crisis of the relevance of its curriculum. The problem of relevant curricula comes under two categories. First is the relevance of general subject matter: that is, a better balance of humanities, social sciences, and physical sciences than most universities have provided or are even now prepared to provide. A second problem is the applicability of the education received. An educational system may offer a balanced diet of the three large disciplinary areas but still all of them at such an abstract level that students would find their needs not met. Obviously, the newer the country the more pressing are the demands for applicable knowledge. But the problem of
social priorities are forcing universities to question traditional goals. applie~ versus basic, or relevant versus traditional studies in the newer countries is not an easy one to resolve. Applied studies do not -flourish very long unless they are attached, in fairly close proximity, to more abstract matters. Most scholars realize that , to do this they must have contacts with scholars in more mature countries. Universities in developing countries need such contacts almost more than established universities, but if they are to tilt their interest too heavily towards the applied sciences they will cut themselves off from some of the most vigorous intellectual growth going on in other parts of the world. One other point needs to be made about the matter of relevance. As the numbers of students have increased, larger and wide~ cross-sections of our societies have been admitted to the universities, and many of today's students
are first-generation entrants without -him and his family from grinding povany family tradition to prepare them for erty. In less harsh tones, perhaps, this the rigour of their studies. case is being stated with greater and Many are from minority deprived greater emphasis by students coming groups and the immediate utility of from the industrial cities of England as their university experience has to be well as the southern parts ofItaly. demonstrated not only to them but to Even a casual observer will see the the families who can ill spare them. The connection between numbers, costs and result has been an insistence on the relevance. To provide education that is part of these new classes of students at relevant to a variety of demands is a the university that there be a direct and costly business, while higher costs revisible demonstration that' what they quire demonstrably. higher relevance. were being taught had a direct connec- And as the university meets these detion with the environments from which mands for relevance and offers differenthey came. tiated programmes, one can expect an In the United States this has been increased interest in university attendance, which will feed the cycle of nummost vividly witnessed by the demands of black American students for courses bers, costs and relevance'. that would help them improve the slums' This brings up one of the ironic from which many had come. In Latin features of the current scene-that these America, the American Indian from crises are in large part the result of the university's successful adaptation to the Bolivia, Colombia and Peru is demanding an education that would help rescue needs of its various publics. As the unicontinued
University of Oregon serves as a forum for free debate for students, faculty or guest speakers from off campus.
The problems are not just complex; they are explosive. versity succeeds, its problems increase rather than decrease. But even these three interrelated crises of costs, numbers and relevance do not, by themselves, determine the atmosphere in which the university is struggling to perform its mission today. There are deeper matters at work that have enormously complicated the business of university management-the crisis of the new priorities.
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omewhere in the beginning of the 'sixties, at least in the more developed countries, the intellectual avant-garde shifted its social priorities away from attention to affluence, full employment, and peacekeeping by military power, and towards . more preoccupation with justice for the minorities and the poor, the quality of the environment; and peace-keeping through the subordination of national ambitions to the idea of the international community. Not every country has felt this shift in priorities in either the same manner or the same degree. But that some glacial change began to take place during this past decade is hard to deny. One feature of this shift was the adoption of the new priorities by the young. Much has been made of the generation gap, and while there has always been such a gap, something new has been added. As societies modernize, the individual becomes free of both restraints and duties imposed by tribe and family. Modern society requires mobility and encourages it. The young are sent to school while the adults are drawn into the whirlpool of professional life. Thus the young are left to create their own culture, their own societies. This disjunction of the generations would have produced a whole variety of complicated social problems even if the pressing concerns for justice and peace had not been adopted by this new generation. But independence fuelled by zeal, alienation fed by distrust, separat-
ism exaggerated by fundamental dif- from society while also making concesference in philosophy-all have served sions to the new concerns in admissions to present the universities with problems policy and curricular ventures. that are not just complex, but explosive. They are explosive because the generaehind even the crisis of tions coming to the university saw their university identity and misdissatisfactions, caused by numbers, sion there is another and costs and relevance, through the red de.eper crisis that imperils glare of anger at the society of which the very idea of the university itself. the university was an increasingly im- This fifth crisis is the new scepticism that portant part. denies the possibilityof objective, rationIn these circumstances it was inevi- al thought. The comfortable belief that table that the university--'-while trying to reasoning man would increasingly comdeal with its internal priorities-would prehend his environment to the benefit find the new social concerns of its stu- of a better evolution of mankind is an dents almost impossible to resolve. They idea that has less currency with each might be resolved if the students were passing year. In its place has risen a content to have the university function mysticism and a belief that somewhere as a neutral forum in which these serious in the dark reaches of the mind, in the external problems could be debated. senses and sensations, in feeling rather But having become so closely identi- than in thought, one is more likely to fied with the society that supported it, find truth than in an objective examinathe university, clearly, was not only an tion of the world around us. instrument for investigation, but a target All this has undermined one of the for opposition. This fourth crisis of the central notions upon which the univeruniversity stems from a schizophrenia sity is based-that learning is cumulanot yet resolved-namely, whether the tive and that the opportunity for rauniversity is more valuable as a neutral tional discourse is its raison d'etre. With arena for inquiry and debate, or more these concepts under attack, the idea valuable as a lever for social reform. of the university itself is in question. We have been inclined to think of the hen societies are crisis of the university as being the divided, universities crisis of governance. This may be so, have had difficulty in but we will not understand the nature establishing their neu- of the crisis of governance unless we trality, or at least maintaining it; when realize it is comp'ounded of five crises . a society has a substantial consensus of numbers, costs, relevance, priorities on its main priorities, university neu- and scepticism. No new organization trality becomes the more possible. It is chart will be adequate to embrace the not surprising that the countries that considerations with which universities have had the most difficulty with their must now deal. Statesmanship of the universities have been those with the highest order, both in and out of the universities, will be necessary if they are deepest divisions in their social philosophies and social programmes. Uni- to fulfil their historic mission in our versities are struggling today with this new world. END enormously complex problem, which has become a political issue. About the author: James A. Perkins is chairman and director of the Center for EducaMost systems are trying to plot a tional Enquiry in New York. This article is course between the two extremes of based on a major study presented at a neutrality and social activism by mainUNESCO symposium on "Education and taining the maximum of independence the Development of Man."
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A LITTLE OVER 60 years ago, Henry Ford first cranked up his "Model T" assembly line and began turning out motorcars in quantity, at prices people could pay. That was the start of the mass-production of automobiles. In the years since, American manufacturers, principally' in Detroit, have built millions of cars. Much of contemporary U.S. living pivots around the ease, convenience, and mobility offered by the family car. In recent years, however, the very popularity and profusion of the automobile has developed into a significant problem of American life-for two reasons. One is America's increasingly car-congested roads. The other is the nationwide concern over air pollution-an estimated 60 per cent of it caused by motorcar exhausts. President Nixon, in a message. last year to the U.S. Congress, said that if the automotive industry were unable to "clean up" the conventional (internal-combustion) engine sufficiently, an alternative, low-pollution power source ought to be available. He therefore ordered the purchase by the Government-"as an incentive to private developers"-of privately-produced unconventional vehicles. Under legislation signed by President Nixon recently, auto-
mobile makers will be required to produce a virtually emissionfree automobile by 1976. Some experts doubt whether the conventional engine can be cleaned up enough to meet this standard. They also point out that even with improved anti-pollution devices, the steady U.S. increase in the number of cars would eventually raise pollution back to dangerous-levels. The U.S. National Air Pollution Control Administration is monitoring the development of pollution-free automobiles. Among promising engine types are the gas turbine and various hybrids of low-powered combustion and electric power plants. Steam engines are also being considered. (All-electric engines are not currently included in the programme because the development of adequate battery systems and fuel cells by 1976 seems unlikely.) Eventually, the programme will be narrowed down to two engine types. The new-type automobiles developed by the target date will be expected to match or exceed conventional 1976-model cars in performance. The Government also intends to study the social an.d economic effects of unconventional automobile power systems-including
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Latest ideas from America's largest car manufacturer, General Motors (GM), include the three designs on these pages. The GM Commuter's three wheels make it highly manoeuvrable.
such problems as excessive noise, objectionable odours, and excessive use of nickel or copper. Meanwhile, a number of private manufacturers have been carrying on research aimed at solving the twin urban-transport problems of congestion and pollution. Detroit's car makers are not only experimenting with unconventional methods of propulsion, but with totally new designs-many of them utilitarian and economical. The gas turbine is now being tried out by Continental Trailways and Greyhound, the two major V,S. bus lines. Greyhound, which. is testing a General Motors Corporation gas turbine, expects substantial savings, in addition to greatly reduced pollution. The company estimates that the engine can be operated for 1,666,000 kilometres before overhaul. Studies indicate that the installation of gas turbines in Greyhound's 5,300-bus fleet would save Rs. 2.6 crores a year in operating and maintenance costs. Continental Trailways is testing a Ford Motor Company turbine engine which is expected to be commercially available for heavy vehicles in about a year. The Chrysler Corporation has been working on a turbine engine
for passenger cars for 12 years. Chrysler says the cost of exotic metals used, as well as the expense of converting its plants to highvolume production of the engine, have held development back. Wealthy industrialist-inventor William P. Lear hopes to have a steam-turbine car on the roads this year. He has worked on steam power plants for a number of years, and had almost given the project up as impractical when his engineers discovered a new chemical fuel (a form of fluorinated hydrocarbon) which is said to be non-toxic and non-flammable. Lear says that the engine will not pollute the air and will be almost noiseless. An engine using Freon gas has been developed by the Kinetics Corporation of Florida. Nissan Motor Company of Tokyo will begin mass-production of the engine next year for use in its Datsun cars. A larger engine of this type will be produced for Yanmar Diesel Company of Osaka for use in ,boats, tractors, and auxiliary power plants. Kinetics says its engine is almost 100 per cent non-polluting. If automobile manufacturers can produce the "clean" cars demanded by the new law, the revolution will be as great as when Henry Ford developed the "Model T." END
0-4763,5:>This electrical version uses lightweight lead-acid . batteries which can be recharged from a normal household circuit. It accelerates to a top speed of 48 km. an hour in 12 seconds.
Petrol-powered version has the best range (450 kilometres) and a top speed of 72 km.p.h. Two-cylinder aluminium engine has experimental gadgets for control of pollution.
·ANEARLY
WARNING SYSTEM
FOR
HAPPENINGS INNATURE
A 2,OOO-mannetwork in 122 ~ountries assists 1;he Smithsonian's unique Center f9r Short-Lived Phenomena . in speeding news of unusual events in the natural world to scientists around the globe.
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Case of the Giant Rat of Sumatra and the Repulsive Story of the Red Leech will never, unfortunately, be known to science. Their details, which might prove highly interesting to zoologists, lie buried with Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, who judged the world unready for revelations so disturbing. Secretiveness of this sort is much frowned upon by scientists, and particularly by an outfit in Cambridge, Mass., that has undertaken the task of providing the widest possible dissemination in the shortest possible time to news of unusual events of nature. It has been operating for only three years, and already it has alerted the scientific world to an array of thoroughly unfictional occurrences that would have set Holmes and Watson hailing a hansom to catch the next boat train: among them, theAmazon River Porpoise Disappearance, the Trinidad Butterfly Invasion, the Chinandega Footprints, the Pacific Starfish Plague, the St. Louis Spider Invasion and the Pocahontas Fireball. These are the titles of just a few of the events-there were 145 in 1969 alone-reported by the Smithsonian Institution's Center for Short-Lived Phenomena, an international early warning system for happenings in the natural world. To be shortlived and phenomenal, and thus draw the centre's attention, an event must (I) be natural rather than man-made (although oit spills count, because their effects on nature can be so severe); (2) be unpredictable (eclipses, for instance, are out), and (3) provide new research opportunities for scientists out in the field. In addition, the centre reports what it calls Urgent Archaeological and Urgent Anthropological Events-discoveries of ancient remains or even new tribes that face danger of destruction or contamination by civilized man and consequently must be investigated promptHE
This article has been reprinted with special permission/rom The New York Times Magazine. Š 1970 by The New York Times Company.
51\/ Mt. Mayan's eruption (opposite) and starfish devouring tiny shellfish and destroying the Pacific coral reefs they create (above) are two subjects speedifv reported to the Center.
Iy. The Chinandega Footprints, a set of prehistoric footprints found in volcanic ash on a Nicaraguan roadway, called for urgent archaeology, as did the petrified camel hoofprints discovered in 1969 in a cinderblock quarry near Santa Fe, New Mexico. peed-the sort of speed that enables a scientist to travel to the site of a volcano while it is still erupting, a meteor shower while the fragments are still radioactive, a mass squirrel migration while the animals are still on the move -is undoubtedly the most valuable of the centre's scientific services. Before the centre was founded, many researchers were painfully aware that they often heard of events they would like to investigate only months after those events had ceased. When one scientist was lucky enough to come upon a phenomenon in action, his colleagues frequently had to sit out the long wait for completion of his study and publication of his findings before they were let in on the secret. It was not just professional oneupmanship at work; in many cases, the discoverer of the event simply did not know who, if anyone, might be interested. The value of prompt notification was dramatized when, in 1963, an underwater volcano erupted off the coast of Iceland, thrusting a new island into existence. Icelandic scientists relayed the news to fellow scientists overseas, and as a result an American expedition was sent to join in
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the rare opportunity to stutly plant and animal life taking hold on virgin territory. The man who was instrumental in prompting the American expedition was Dr. Sidney Galler, then head of biological research for the Navy. The Icelandic island incident led him to wonder whether the informal alert system that had worked so well in this case couldn't somehow be institutionalized. Two years later, when he became assistant secretary for science at the Smithsonian, Galler found himself in a position to do something about it. The Smithsonian had already set up an elaborate worldwide communications network, headquartered in Cambridge, for the satellite-tracking operations of the Smithsonian Astrophysical Observatory. Communications equipment was virtually the only hardware that a phenomenological alert system would need; the natural course was to establish the new centre in Cambridge, with access to the Astrophysical Observatory's radio and cable network. Galler won the Smithsonian's approval, and the project attracted the attention and enthusiasm of an energetic young man named Robert Citron, who had been director of U.S. tracking stations in Africa. In January, 1968, with Citron as director (indeed, the sole member of the staff) and all operating budget of just $12,600 for the first six months, the Center for Short-Lived Phenomena opened for business in a single room on the outskirts of Cambridge. The centre rapidly became something of a phenomenon itself. Citron's past experience in working with international scientists helped round up a far-flung volunteer corps of "correspondents," professional and amateur scientists around the world continued
The Center's coverage can range from a sudden population explosion among squirrels to a fireball in Pocahontas, Iowa.
who have a barter arrangement with the centre: they agree to alert Cambridge when a short-lived event occurs in their areas in return for receiving alerts about events elsewhere in which they might be scientifically interested. These alerts to and from the correspondents usually travel by telephone or telegraph. In addition, the centre mails out postcard-size "event notification reports" (for the first mention of a phenomenon) and "event information reports" (for subsequent updating) to an international list of subscribers. In its first year, the centre signed up 780 correspondents and subscribers; its roster is now over 2,000. They are based in 122 countries.
O
ccasionally, even the superspeed of the centre's communications facilities cannot beat the shortlivedness of phenomena. Sometimes, too, the centre acts too speedily to be able to check out the validity of its phenomena before reportiilg them. In March, 1969, subscribers to the centre's event notification card service were startled at news of the "Tecolutla Sea Animal Discovery." The carcass of a gigantic fish, weighing perhaps some 35 tons and apparently bearing a large horn on its snout, had washed ashore on a remote beach in eastern Mexico.Visions of sea monsters danced in many heads until investigators reached the site and identified the creature as a whale with a fracture that had produced the bone protruding from the snout.' The centre's staff is. not particularly embarrassed at having been momentarily taken in by the Tecolutla impostor. Before sending out the card, they had consultedas they do in almost every case-a scientific expert; he had urged them to go ahead with the notice in full knowledge that the chan-
Eruption off the Icelandic coast (right) led to creation 0/ a new island and 0/ Smithsonian Center's network 0/ naturewatchers. Spectacular meteors like the one photographed in Oklahoma (jar right) are regular entries Oil Center's list.
ces of the animal's being an unknown spccies were very slight. But he believed that the remote possibility of making another discovery equivalent to that of the coeIacanth-the supposedly extinct prehistoric fish netted near Madagascar in 1952-justified sending an expedition quickly, to examine the carcass before it decomposed. That is the centre's real raison cfJetre: to enable scientists to get into the field before it is too late. Citron says the greatest excitement of his job is "to tell a scientist about an event on the phone and hear him say, 'My God, we're going!' " Usually, the expeditions payoff. Volcanologists, perhaps, have been the centre's chief beneficiaries; early alert to the eruptions of Mount Arenal in Costa Rica and Mount Mayon in the Philippines enabled scientists to reach the sccne while the volcanic activity was still under way. And in the autumn of 1968, the centre was instrumental in promoting field investigation of a far more bizarre phenomenon. Late that summer, a zoologist happened to tell
Citron that he would be interested in hearing about any unusual movements of grey squirrels in the eastern United States. Two or three times in the last century, he said, the squirrels have been known to embark 011 mass, lemming-like migrations which have never been satisfactorily explained. Just a few weeks later, the centre did indeed bcgin to pick up reports of strange squirrel behaviour: large numbers scampering across backyards where they had never ventured before, an extra-heavy squirrel death toll on the highways, squirrels (which are normally landlubbers) swimming lakes and rivers. Soon the phenomenon stretched from Massachusetts to Georgia: the Case of the Appalachian Squirrel Migration was on. Thanks to the centre's prompt alert, this was the first migration studied in any detail, and scientists were able to reach some tentative conelusions: that it was not, as some suspected, caused by a sudden infestation of fleas, nor by an immediate food shortage, but most likely by an unusually high birth rate
..?1lJ-11-3.-lf]..
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among squirrels the year in a population explosion . mals to wander far afield foraging until they became and panicky.
before, resulting that led the anifor their winter disoriented, lost
fthis hypothesis is correct, the squirrel migrations are the result of animal "irruptions," the simultaneous hatching or birth of one species in unusually high numbers because offavourab!e food or weather conditions. Eleven such phenomena were reported by the centre in 1969, among them the somewhat melodramatically entitled Trinidad Butterfly Invasion and the St. Louis Spider Invasion. The latter event, actually far less dreadful than it sounds, consisted of great clouds of fluffy, sticky, whitish threads that floated over St. Louis in October 1969. At first, the substance was thought to be a precipitate of the city's heavy air pollution, but it turned out to be the webs of countless ballooning spiders, creatures which solve their childrearing problems by climbing to the tops
I
of trees, discharging their eggs into specially constructed webs and then setting the webs adrift on the wind. Sometimes a short-lived phenomenon C(ln be quite long-lived. In the spring of 1969, the centre got wind of an alarming threat to the archipelagoes of the Pacific Ocean that probably has been in the rr..aking for over 10 years. The tiny shellfish that create the great coral reefs of the South Pacific are being devoured at a devastating rate by hordes of crown-of-thorns starfish. Once the coral is killed, the reef itself slowly dies-its fish popubtion, often a staple of an island's diet or economy, is driven away, and the shore may be eroded or flooded by the pounding of waves once kept at bay by the protective reefs. Already a sizable segment of Australia's Great Barrier Reef has fallen victim to the starfish plague, which has also spread to the islands of Micronesia. The Australian Government has been studying the problem for some time, and the centre's alert prompted the Westinghouse Ocean Re-
search Laboratory also to do some nisearch in 1969. The crown-of-thorns infestations seem to have something to do with the depleted population of this starfish's main predator, the giant triton conch, which, in turn, may have been caused by tourists' and shell collectors' preference for the conch shell. But it is less clear how the blight can be combatted: the starfish, like Hercules's Lernean hydra, simply regenerates if you cut it up. o the layman, most of the centre's inventory of phenomena sounds considerably less intriguing than the migration of squirrels or the diet of starfish. The 1969 list, for example, included such regular, if unpredictable, events as 20 major earthquakes, 18 volcanic eruptions and 17 fireballs (the Pocahontas Fireball, a 1968 phenomenon, won its poetic name by streaking across the sky over Pocahontas, Iowa). And there is an ominous new entry among the most frequently reported phenomena: 17 oil spills and other incidents of pollution. Quite a few of the centre's biological events, in fact, involve some sort of man-made ecological depredations. With interest in preserving the environment growing so intense in the U.S., the centre has come under a certain amount of pressure to concentrate more of its activities on ecology, perhaps even to become a special ecological alert system for the United States. Citron, although he is personally very interested in environmental problems, is resisting this. He wants to preserve and extend the centre's worldwide network of scientific contacts-"we're one of the few places," he says, "reporting on a global scale." And he wants to continue to serve scientists involved in all kinds of phenomenological research, not just one particular sort. One of the fascinations of life at the centre is not knowing where or how an "event" will pop up next. One Smithsonian scientist, in fact, has a theory that some day the centre will encounter an event so bizarre that no one will quite know how to handle it. Possibly-but it will have to be a phenomenal phenomenon to stump the crew in Cambridge. There will be no great astonishment among the ever-growing band of correspondents if one day they receive an event notification report bearing news .of the Sumatran Rat Discovery or the Red Leech Irruption that Holmes and Watson tried to suppress. END
T
Faced with a wider range of options thall ever before, the young American woman todaY' is striking out along new paths, in new directions. Take the girl at left, walking down the street to work. She may well belong to the Women's Liberation Movement that is making the headlines with the force and stridency of its demands. Then again, she may not. Because only a small proportion of American women, most of them under 30, are actively engaged in the rebellion against what they see as male dominance. While these women may have legitimate grievances, it is also true that they enjoy more material, political and social advantages than any other women in history. Where will the balance be struck? The dilemma that confronts the thoughtful American woman today is typified by the girl on the opposite page. (continued)
In her role as homemaker, the American woman is an individual of man,Vparts. Judging from these pictures (clockwise from left), she is handyman around the house, chauffeur, shopper and provider of the family's needs, nursemaid and entertainer to the children. In many cases she is also a breadwinner, occasionally in such glamorous professions as modelling, opposite page. Eighty-two per cent of American women marry, with four out offive staying married to the same man. Which goes to show that matrimony, despite all reports to the contrary, is still a thriving institution. (continued)
CLASSIC MINI
KNEE LENGTH
ABOVE THE
CALF
MID CALF
ONE OF THE WAYS in which American women express their freedom is in their choice of clothes. The battle of the hemline -from micro-mini to maxi-still rages, though reports from the fashion front hint at victory for the maxis. Yet here, as in everything else, no one can really tell. For once, women are refusing to follow blindly the pied pipers of high fashion. So all lengths, styles and looks are appropriate, and they are all geared today to the wearer's personality. The clothing industry is big business in the United States, with women spending millions of dollars each year in outfitting themselves. It is estimated that dressing the lady of the house accounts for about 50 per cent of the clothing budget. As a male observer remarked, "Never under-
Alexis de Tocqueville published his monumental Democracy in America in 1840, but the accuracy of many of his observations astonishes some people even today. This is what he had to say about the American woman:
, 'I have nowhere seen women occupying a loftier position ... and if J were asked to what the singular prosperity and growing strength of the American people ought mainly to be attributed, I should reply-the superiority ()[thpir women.~~
estimate the power of a woman-1l1 a clothing store." But this power extends far beyond clothes. The American woman spends 65 to 70 per cent of the dollars that change hands in the United States each year. She also controls 70 per cent of the nation's wealth. She usually makes the key decisions when it comes to buying a home-the family's largest single expenditure-and in selecting furniture and appliances. And she now has a lot to say about the choice of a car-once a strictly male prerogative. Outside the home as well, women are making inroads into exclusively-male fields. The result: there are now women jockeys, blacksmiths, and at least one female steamship yeoman. In the business office, women rode in on the crest of the typewriter keyboard, but they have since penetrated innumerable other areas ranging from market research to engineering. Nearly 42 per cent of all American women of working age-over 29 millionhold jobs, and three out of five women workers are married. Overall, they comprise 37 per cent of the U.S. labour force. More than half of all working women are between the ages of 20-24 or 45-54-a pattern attributed to the fact that they work before the children are born and return to work after they are grown. An important factor in allowing married women to work is the contribution of modern technology to lessening the drudgery of housework. Much of the current women's unrest in America stems from what they describe as intolerable economic discrimination. They charge-with considerable justificationthat they are hired last, paid least, passed over for promotion, and held to the treadmill of rOlltine jobs. But equal payforequal work isjustoneof the demands of the Liberation Movement. Others range from state-supported childcare centres and nation-wide abortion reform to nothing less than a toppling of the patriarchal system in which men have controlled society's levers of power. Perhaps the main element that Women's Lib lacks-and one that causes it to forfeit much sympathy-is a sense of humour. Poet Phyllis McGinley, though in basic agreement with most of its aims, sums up her feelings this way: Snugly upon the equal heights Enthroned at last where she belongs, She takes no pleasure in her Rights Who so enjoyed her Wrongs.
WOMEN WITH A ,DREAM Had a 19th-century popularity contest been conducted, these women would have finished lastat least where most men were concerned. They were all pioneers in the women's rights movement in a society that firmly believed that woman's place was in the home.
Susan B-1Anthony
1
Julia Ward
Co~follnder of the National American Woman Sufji'age Association, she voted in the 1872 New York State elections to test the validity of the 14th AmendmenT. The resulting/ine was never exacted.
owe
First woman member of the American Academy of Arts and Letters, she wrote the lyrics for the song "The Battle Hymn of the Republic." She was also a co-founder of the American ST(f!rageAssociation.
Today's modern American woman is reaping some of the benefits for which these ladies worked and sacrificed. She is an individual free to think for herself, to arrive at her own decisions. And those in the forefront of Women's Lib are free to choose their weapons. If some of their methods seem bizarre, they can point out that the suffragettes tied themselves to lamp-posts to win the vote.
Lucy Blackwell ~tone
J
President until 1872 of the American Woman Sld!rage Association, she was also a co-founder of the orJ?anization. Actively associated with the Women's Journal, she hecame its editor in 1888.
Carrie Chapma
Catt
Founder of the National League of Women Voters and president of the International Women's Suffrage Alliance. Due to her organizing ability, the 19th Amendment, enfranchising Women, was adopted in 1920.