India is caring for millions of refugees with the assistance of many nations. Below left. rice is loaded on a U.S. Air Force C-130 for delivery to Agartala. Bottom, refugees board plane for' retum flight to Gauhati where buses, far right. take them to camps in Assam. Photos:
R. Basu and LD. Beri
u.s. RESPONSE
IN A RACE against the monsoon, four U.S. Air Force C-130 aircraft have been flying food from Gauhati to Agartala and airlifting displaced persons from East Pakistan from Agartala to Gauhati. This has been part of America's assistance to India's relief programme, made in response to the Indian Government's appeal to the U.N. High Commissioner for Refugees. U.S. Ambassador Kenneth B. Keating has called the airlift "the most effective demonstration of American humanitarian concern for the welfare of the refugees from East Pakistan. " Known as "Bonny Jack," the operation began on June 18, followed by daily flights averaging J ,000 refugees and between 28,000 and 35,000 pounds offood. The refugees brought to Gauhati by the C-130s were taken to a nearby transit camp, from where they were moved to other quarters elsewhere in Assam. In addition to "Bonny Jack,'" the U.S. Government has made food, medicine and other needed supplies available to India on a continuing basis. Private American agencies have contributed generously.
The New American Movies
12
by Paul D. Zimmerman
The New Indian Cinema
16
by S.R. Madhu
What Kind of Humans Should There Be?
28
by Maggie ScatI
A Pragmatic Union
4/
by S.R. Mohan Das
Orissa's Handicraft Heritage
44
by Carmen Kagal
Front cover Sweeping across New York harbour, Verrazano-Narrows Bridge is an engineering marvel. For other projects initially termed "impossible" turn to page 2. Photo courtesy Triborough Bridge &TunnelAuthority.
Back cover The vitality of Orissa handicrafts is typified by this papier mache mask and the tie-and-dye fabric in the background. A feature on the handicrafts of Orissa begins on page 44. Photo: Avinash Pasricha.
Editorial Staff: Carmen Kagal, Avinash Pasricha, Nirmal K. Sharma, Krishan G.Gabrani, Austen Nazareth. Art Staff: B.Roy Chowdhury, Nand K. Katyal, Kanti Roy, Kuldip Singh Jus, Gopi Gajwani. Production Staff: Awtar S. Marwaha, Mammen Philip. Photographic Services: USIS Photo Lab. Published by the United States Information Service, Bahawalpur House, Sikandra Road, New Delhi, on behalf of the American Embassy, New Delhi. Printed by Arun K. Mehta at Vakil & Sons Private Limited, Vakils House, Sprott Road, 18 Ballard Estate, Bombay-I. Manuscripts and photographs sent for publication must be accompanied by stamped, self-addressed envelope for return. SPAN is not responsible for any loss in transit. Use of SPAN articles in other publications is encouraged except when they are copyrighted. For details, write to the Editor, SPAN. Subscription: One year, rupees five: single copy, fifty paise. Inasmuch as we are currently oversubscribed for SPAN, we regret that it will not be possible to accept any more subscriptions for the time being. For change of address, send old address from a recent SPAN envelope along with new address to A. K. Mitra, Circulation Manager. Allow six weeks for change of address to become effective.
THEY SAID:
"It couldn't be done" Down through the ages, there have been men impelled by the dream of doing what had never been done before. Here are some of their accomplishments-each in its way a monument to the "impossible."
Abov~left ~9O-metre radio telescopeat Green ~k. Wm Virginia, picks up radUJtiqn si~als from ~.~lestial bodies. [J(F' lndostrles
THE RECORDof civilization is written in a thousand epic and commonplace ways. Men leave all sorts of artifacts behind them, from which later generations glean the lessons of the past. For the specialist, nothing is too commonplace to have meaning. A pottery shard, a grain of pollen, a footprint in ancient sands, all speak volumes to the experts. But for most of us, the record is written in the art and architecture that men create, and especially in the monumental works that are built to last through the ages. Man is an insatiable builder, obsessed with creating things of beauty and utility. Think, for a moment, of what you recall of earlier civilizations. Temples, bridges, roads, aqueducts, theatres come immediately to mind. The rock-hewn temples and monasteries of Ellora, Ajanta and Mahabalipuram; the Pyramids, stark and lonely in the Egyptian desert; the Parthenon in Athens; the Coliseum in Rome. You remember Shah lahan, grandson of the mighty Akbar and father of Aurangzeb. And you remember him not for battle and conquest, blit for the cool, serene majesty of the Taj Mahal. For more than anything else, this age will be remembered for its technology and its engineering. The record is already being written for future generations to see; human creation is a never-ending process. All over the world, men are completing new engineering and architectural wonders which will tell the ages what we were like, what we held dear, what we thought was useful and beautiful. The scale of the 20th century is immense. Even for the solitary artist, designing a testimony in rock, only the massive proportions of a mountain's face seem to meet the challenge of our time. Thus, the American sculptor Gutzon Borglum carved the faces of four Presidents-Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, and Theodore Roosevelt-out of the solid granite face of Mount Rushmore in the Black Hills of South Dakota. Borglum-and after he died, his son-blasted nearly half a billion tons of rock from the mountain's face. They worked 14 years to chisel the four busts, 21 metres high, rising above the famed "Bad Lands" of America's West. Today, another American sculptor, with a dream even larger than Borglum's, is at work in the Black Hills. He is Korczak Ziolkowski, who, with his five sons, is carving the figure of the American Indian
leader, Chief Crazy Horse, not f.lr from Mount Rushmore. Ziolkowski has been at work on his "impossible task" for the past 30 years. When completed, the head alone of Crazy Horse will be as large as the four heads of Mount Rushmore combined. But despite the scope of those sculptures, they are dwarfed by the truly spectacular proportions of many architectural and engineering achievements of the past 150 years. The Empire State Building, in New York City, reigned for 40 years as the world's tallest building-120 storeys, 381 metres high. And now the Empire State Building has lost its claim as the world's tallest. It has been surpassed by the twin towers of the new World Trade Center, also in New
Tallest U.S. National Monument is the Gateway Arch in St. Louis. Designed by Eero Saarinen, the graceful structure is of stainless steel.
York City. The towers soar 411 metres into the air. But curiously, the new Trade Center is not the largest building in the world, although it may be the tallest for some time to come. The largest building is not even located in a city; it is an aircraft plant of thc Boeing company at Everett, Washington, a few miles outside of Seattle. The structure contains 4.5 million cubic metres of space. It was built to manufacture the world's largest jetliner, the Boeing 747, which is itself of heroic dimensions.
For sheer weight, concentrated in one spot, nothing made by man can touch the gigantic Hoover Dam, which harnesses the turbid waters of the Colorado River between the states of Arizona and Nevada, in the southwest United States. To raise this massive wall, the beginning of flood control, hydroelectric power, and irrigation [or the Pacific Southwest, engineers poured 6.9 million tons of concrete, probably the greatest weight-in terms of the space it occupies-on earth. The pouring of the concrete w.::nt on 24 hours a day, 365 days a year, for two years. Many engineering works, however, are memorable not for what is put into them, but for what is taken out. A century and a half ago, Americans dug a huge ditch between Buffalo and Albany, New York. This was the Erie Canal, 584 kilometres long, linking the Great Lakes with the Atbntic Ocean. At the time. it was the longest man-made waterway ever constructed. Less than a century later, the United States took over from the French the task of digging a canal through the Isthmus of Panama to link the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. The French had lost hundreds of lives in trying to pierce the Lthmus before giving up in 1898. In 1904 the Americans started what has been called "one of the greatest engineering works of all times." Ten years in building, the Panama Canal is 64 kilometres long, now 154 metres wide, with a minimum depth of 12 metres. A series of great locks-stairs of water-lift ocean-going vessels nearly 30 metres above sea level in the passage from one ocean to the other. In a single year, more than 14,000 commercial vessels pass through the Canal, carrying over 100 million tons of cargo. Along with canal building, the boring of tunnels through mountains and under rivers rates among the most impressive of man's earth-movin~ achievements. At the height of Babylonian power, 4,000 years ago, King Nimrod ordered a tunnel dug under the Euphrates. Some Roman tunnels, built to carry water, are still in operation today, a tribute to the durability of ancient engi neeri ng. But the modern age of tunnels began scarcely a century and a half ago with the invention of the tunnelling shield by a French-born Briton, Sir Marc Isambard BruneI. Using the shield, a giant iron framework inside which tunnel diggers work, BruneI and his son drove the first tunnel under the Thames River between continued
Son1e carve their dreams out of the solId rock of a mountain's face. 1825 and 1843, a tunnel still in use by London's Underground. By 1898, the engineers were ready to start on the mighty Simplon Tunnel, stretching 19 kilometres through the Alps between Italy and Switzerland. Made famous by countless spythriller movies and books, the Simplon is still the world's longest railway tunnel. In the United States, the rising demands for easy automobile access to and from New York's Manhattan Island led to the construction after World War I of the first automobile tunnel under the Hudson River. A railroad tunnel under the broad river which separates the states of New York and New Jersey had been attempted as far back as 1873 by DeWitt Clinton Haskin, but he was defeated by cave-ins and lack of money. That tunnel, the Hudson Tube, was finally finished by another company in 1906. Most of the technical problems of boring under rivers were solved by 1919 when Clifford Holland undertook the design and construction of the tunnel that bears his name under the Hudson River linking Manhattan and New Jersey. What HoIland added to the technology of tunnel building was a massive exhaust system that permits deadly carbon monoxide exhaust gas to be evacuated rapidly and safely. The system worked, and extensive automobile tunnels became feasible. The longest in operation today burrows II kilometres between France and Italy, deep beneath the 4.8-kilometre peak of Mont Blanc. Yet future generations will remember our engineers and architects not only for their heroic achievements in boring through the earth and under the rivers. Some will be most impressed by the soaring majesty of bridges spanning chasms above the surface of the waters. To many persons, bridge building is the queen of technology.
The huge monument to four U.S. Presidents, above left, was carved out of the solid granite of Mount Rushmore. Indicating the scale of the project, Lincoln's nose measures 5 metres. On an even grander scale than Mount Rushmore will be a titanic figure of the American Indian chief, Crazy Horse. Sculptor Korczak Ziolkowski, left, is seen with plaster model.
AMBASSADOR KEATING ASKS:
"Who says it can't be done?" RECENTLY at my residence in New Delhi, I had the opportunity to see the television programme from the u.s. called "It Couldn't Be Done." The show, produced by the National Broadcasting Company and sponsored by the American Telephone & Telegraph Company, was fascinating. It told of no fewer than 32 projects in the United States that were done in spite of experts' dire predictions that "It can't be done." Included among the "impossibles" were: The Hoover Dam. (Experts said the first big flood would wipe out the dam and half of Nevada and California with it.) The Holland Tunnel under the Hudson River from New York City to New Jersey. (The brilliant inventor Thomas Edison said it couldn't be ventilated properly.) The Panama Canal. (Could the Americans succeed after Ferdinand de Lesseps, who built the Suez Canal, failed?) The Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. (Geologists said an earthquake would demolish it.) A good friend of mine, an Indian, who did part of his studies in the United States, was one of my guests for the show. Afterwards he said something that rather shocked me. "Why do you Americans show us things like this?" he asked. "You can do just about anything you set your minds to, but why do you bring it up to us? This isn't relevant to us in India." "Wait a minute," I said. "Are you one of those people who says it can't be done? Look at all the things that have been done in India that people said couldn't be done." Later I decided to make a list of the things I would include from India if I were to produce an "It Couldn't Be Done" show for AIR-TV. Here are a few-and I am sure you can think of many more: In 1915, Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi announced he would free India from colonial rule by non-violent means.
In 1947, on one day, Indians took over all the top governmental positions formerly held by the British, in spite of the dire predictions of the former rulers. In 1950, India became a Republic, establishing the world's largest democracy; more than 20 years later the democracy continues. The world's highest airfield was built in Ladakh; the altitude: 14,230 feet. The Howrah Bridge, when it was built, was the world's largest cantilever bridge and was completed amidst bombing attacks during World War II. India has built Asia's longest ropeway, the mechanized cable-car system at Darjeeling. The world's longest dam is at Hirakud. The Nagarjunasagar and Beas dams, among the world's largest in volume, are built largely by hand. Asia's largest and newest nuclear power plant of its kind operates at Tarapur and one of the world's largest hydroelectric plants is at Bhakra. And for my conclusion of the Indian show, I might include India's goals of becoming the first nation to have direct satellite educational television broadcasting in 1974, and becoming self-sufficient in food by 1972. I haven't seen my friend since the other night when we watched the show, but I hope to have him by again soon. And I'll ask him, "Who says it can't be done?"
Bridges rank among man's oldest artifices. A tree, felled by a storm across a stream, becomes a pathway to the other side. In time, the primjtive mind grasps the possibilities inherent in deliberately placing a log, or a fiat stone, at a crucial point across a creek. From stone slabs and logs to stone arches is a long and revolutionary step. The Romans perfected the semi-circular stone arch bridges which carried their magnificent road system across Europe's greatest rivers. In the United States, in the early days of the nation, there was great need for stream-bridging as the young republic spread westward. The first permanent bridges in America were not stone arches, but were made of wood. As the need arose for longer and stronger bridges, stone bridges were constructed. Finally, in 1839, the country built a cast iron bridge, a 24-metre span over Dunlap's Creek at Brownsville, Pennsylvania. For the next three decades, cast-iron and wrought-iron bridges served well enough. But gradually, the increasing weight of the railroad engines that thundered across them spelled their doom. Bridge builders were saved by the introduction of a new building material: structural steel. The first steel arch bridge was designed by James Buchanan Eads, a selfeducated engineer, to cross the mighty Mississippi River at St. Louis, Missouri. The year was 1867, shortly after the American Civil War had ended. A railroad crossing of the Mississippi was necessary if the western United States was to be opened to exploration and settlement. The trouble was, Eads had never designed a bridge before! He did know the Mississippi River, however. He had begun his career salvaging sunken river steamers, and he knew the secrets of the river bottom, as well as the characteristics of surface currents. Eads' plans called for a triple arch bridge, each arch to be more than 150 metres in length. The arches would be composed of steel, with wrought-iron supports and framing. Experts quickly pronounced Eads' plan unworkable. An eminent engineer, asked to review the plan, refused "to imperil my reputation by appearing to encourage its adoption." continued
Bridges of sweeping majesty express the indomitable spirit of man. But in the end, Eads won over the engineers and the Mississippi. In 1874, on July 4-America's Independence Daythe first steel arch bridge was formally opened. It still stands today, carrying modern diesel engines with complete safety over its three arches. While Eads was throwing his bridge across the Mississippi, another "impossible" project was getting under way in New York City. In 1867, engineer John Roebling had secured approval of his plans for a steel suspension bridge with a span of nearly 488 metres-longer than all three of Eads' arches put together. Roebling based his calculations and his hopes on the largely untested strength of woven steel cable. He had previously designed and supervised construction of three long suspension bridges, but the largest of them, across the Ohio River at Cincinnati, was just over 300 metres. Nonetheless, Roebling was a "real" engineer, and there was less professional scoffing at his design than at Eads' arches. Then, in 1869, just as construction was getting under way, the incredible happened. Roebling, his foot crushed when a ferry boat crashed into a piling during a survey mission, died of tetanus. Into the breach stepped his son, Washington A. Roebling, who had worked with his famous father on other bridges. In 1872 Washington 'Roebling was struck by caisson disease, which frequently affects divers and bridge workers who are too suddenly subjected to atmospheric pressure. It was as if some malignant curse haunted the Roeblings. The younger Roebling was permanently crippled, was scarcely able to talk, and suffered progressive loss of hearing and sight. He remained an invalid the rest of his life, carrying on his father's work from his bedside in Brooklyn Heights. His home overlooked the bridge, and he spent hours inspecting the progress of the bridge through binoculars. His wife Emily became his chief assistant; for the next II years, he gave instructions to her by tapMost spectacular overwater drive in the world, the Overseas Highway (Ieft)-"the road that goes out to sea"-links scattered islands with the Florida mainland.
A bridge-highway linking two hemispheres, spanning the Bering Strait between Alaska and Siberia, is the dream of engineer-professor T.Y. Lin. Some day this dream may be reality.
ping out a code. She, in turn, studied mathematics and engineering and transmitted her husband's directions to the assistant engineers. In 1883, the Brooklyn Bridge was opened, a tribute to the genius of John Roebling, the dedication and sacrifice of Washington and Emily Roebling. Every bridge is a new study in courage and ingenuity. Perhaps not all bridge builders are as pertinacious as the Roeblings. But each must face and overcome incredible obstacles to spin his steel web across the sky. One of the most remarkable of all examples of the bridge builder's skill is the dramatic span that arches across more than 1.2 kilometres of opeQ sea high above the Golden Gate, the mouth of San Francisco Bay in California. For nearly five years, the builders fought tides, currents, winds, and storms to complete the Golden Gate Bridge. It took more than a year to create the pier for the southern tower, which stands in open ocean more than 300 metres from the San Francisco shore. In the course of construction, the pier's access trestle was rammed by a freighter and buffeted by countless storms. The pier and surrounding fender rest on bedrock 30 metres below the surface of the water, designed to withstand the pounding of the long swells of
the Pacific Ocean, and the shock of earthquake as well. To many people, the Golden Gate Bridge is the most beautiful of modern bridges. Its enormous span of 1,280 metres is exceeded only by 18 metres by the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge in New York harbour. It rises in a magnificent location, linking the rugged cliffs of Marin County in the north with the tall buildings and gracious hills of San Francisco. It is a monument-to an "impossible" ideathat will stand for ages. And there are men today impelled by the same dreams of "impossible" ideas. One such dreamer is Dr. T.Y. Lin of the University of California. He suggests a bridge-highway from Alaska to the Soviet Union, across the Bering Strait, a distance of 90 kilometres. Crazy? Impossible? Perhaps. Those frigid Arctic waters are raked by fierce gales, and mountainous ice thunders on rocky shoals. And yet, Eads was pronounced crazy; the Golden Gate Bridge was judged impossible. The Holland Tunnel couldn't be built; it was said that the first flood would crack the Hoover Dam and flood all of Southern California. But this bridge would be unique in another way; it would span a gap made by nature only a few thousand years ago when waters from the receding ice sheet submerged the ancient Bering land bridge over which the predecessors of the American Indian had come to America from Asia. END
Young Americans today are using cinema as a medium of
in the United States, as in other parts of the world, respond to film more than 'OO"fo any other medium; to literacy has been added "cinemacy." They don't just see and enjoy films; they make them. Four-year-olds learn to animate what they draw. "Problem children" are given cameras in an effort to bridge the communications gap, and the results are often good films as well as good therapy. High-school and college students today use film as a means of selfexpression in much the same way as those of earlier generations used poetry. Some make films because they are concerned with social and political issues and use the medium they know best; many make films because they enjoy using the medium as an art form and plan to continue careers in film-making. To help give people in the Near East and Asia an insight into the "Youth and Film" scene in the United States, a programme on this theme is touring several countries in the area. In India it is scheduled for New Delhi, Bombay, Poona, Madras, and Calcutta during August and September. About 100 films are to be shown, arranged around various discussion topics. To try to achieve some degree of organization in a field where any
Y
OUNG
PEOPLE
-
sort of classification is almost a suspect activity, the films have been categorized into four broad groups: dramatic, documentary, animation, and experimental-but the documentaries and dramatic films are not always of the type traditionally associated with. these categories. The dramatizations usually have a very loose story line, and the documentaries are more often about people than about places or events. Interestingly, the numbers of films in each of the four categories are about equal, although they were not selected on that basis. Their subjects include environment, nonconformity, introspection, youth looking at age, at creative talent, at itself. Some are abstract and technically innovative films; others are ~ramatizations of literary works or original material, with or without a plot. The selection was made from a total of over 500 films. There are a number of films iNthe collection that audiences might feel were better omitted-though they will most certainly disagree on which films these might be. Technical quality has been a consideration but ngt always an overriding one, and an attempt has been made not to include too many "interesting experiments that failed," The films range in length from one minute to one-and-a-half hours,
but most run under 20 minutes. Over 60 films are from the college and university level; about 20 are from the high schools; and the rest are made by children under 13 in elementary schools. There are also a few "school" films made by teachers, professionals, and young people with community co-operation. Touring with the programme is Sheldon Renan, who introduces and answers questions about the films; leads seminars and lectures; and conducts three- to six-day film workshops. He is the author of An Introduction to the American Underground Film, a biographical note in which says: "Sheldon Renan was born in Portland, Oregon, in 1941. He became addicted to the film medium during his four years at Yale University .... After graduation in 1963, he spent much of his time scurrying from one movie theatre to another, and'¡did not emerge from the darkness until 1966, when he married, wrote this book, and settled near San Francisco." Renan's experience is typical of his generation. By the time the average American finishes high school, he has seen more than 500 movies -and watched more than 15,000 hours of television. Film "greats" of the past no longer just bring back nostalgic
self-expression as earlier generations used poetry.
memories to those over 40; D.W. Griffith, Mack Sennett, Lillian Gish, Greta Garbo, Erich von Stroheim, Buster Keaton, Charlie Chaplin, and countless others are being rediscovered and discussed by a whole new generation of Americans. Distributors are running off new prints of old classics for the cinema circuits; television stations are having festivals of directors' and stars' films that date back to the beginnings of the industry. Young audiences go to see silent and early sound movies to admire the techniques and recognize the importance of film "firsts" in their cinematic heritage as much as to laugh at some of the slow-moving, overacted elements of films of the past. They are, however, harshly critical of those lavish but empty ~roductions made today that go no further than the early films except for technical polish. They are selective in what they see, and they can see the best of international cinema and make comparisons. What has made for this greater awareness of the medium's potential is the omnipresence of television and the closely-related change in U.S. filmgoing patterns. American mass entertainment-the necessary and prime role of the movies-has been transferred to television. Anyone who now goes to the movies in the
United States goes to a special event, to see something extraordinary. Thus, movies are now the property of the young and the discerning. As the old movie palaces are converted into supermarkets for lack of patrons, smaller "art theatres" have sprung up to show the best of American and world cinema. Commercial theatres have special midnight showings, and universities establish film societies (95 per cent of the United States' 2,500 film societies being on college campuses). In 1963, U.S. colleges and universities offered 846 courses in film. By 1970 there were over 1,669 courses at some 300 institutions of higher learning. Many more elementary and high schools have programmes in film study or film production, and scores of community projects around the country help young people make films. In the colleges and universities, over 5,000 students are preparing for careers in film scholarship, teaching, or production; tens of thousands more are taking elective courses. Today a student can take film as his major subject at 68 colleges or universities; as recently as 1965 this was possible at only 12 educational institutions. What the public wants to see has always dictated what the commercial industry offered. Now that the
nature of the film public has changed, the industry is changing. Fewer extravaganzas and spectaculars are being made, and more independent production is being financed by the . large studios. Some of those 5,300 student film "majors" are being given a greater opportunity to make feature films than at any time since the early days of the film industry at the turn of the century. Talent was scarce then because the industry was new; today the industry recognizes the need for new talent to make the kind of films the public wants to see. A college degree in film is not by any means an automatic passport into the commercial industry, but it is the end-result of an opportunity to study and use equipment and resources that would be impossible for the self-taught independent. The American film industry is not dying; it is merely changing hands. The average young educated American today understands film technique the way he understands the elements of language. He is more aware of his film heritage and often knows the work of the great international film-makers. The comprehension is so widespread that many feel that for a liberal education today, cinemacy is as important as literacy. END
T
GREAT Hollywood empire that ruled American tastes for more than half a century lies in dust, its moguls dead or deposed, its back lots empty, its sound stages still, its ranks diminished and in disarray. But out of the ruins of the city of dreams a new film industry is rising. The studios have become, for the most part, financing and distribution arms for a proliferating army of independent film-makers. And these new producers and directors, who account for three out of every four American movies today, no longer need the facilities of any big studio. Instead, backed by a new mobile technology, they are shooting in Vancouver, British Columbia, and Taos, New Mexico, in New York, New Jersey and New Orleans, in motor inns and on motorbikes. Today's movies are being shaped by a nexus of forces that no one clearly understands. But certainly among the most powerful of these is the gradual emergence of a new audience, demonstrably younger (62 per cent of to day's moviegoers are between 12 and 30), better-educated, more selective and, most important of all, drastically smaller than the mass audience that supported the old Hollywood system. Over the past decade, it is the needs, tastes and temperament of this new audience that have given birth to a new kind of American movie. Inevitably there are those who see all new movies as signs of a golden age and those who see them, with their themes of dissent and alienation, their anything-goes sexuality, as false idols of a decadent time. The truth is more complicated and more important. The new film focuses not on some back-lot fantasy landscape, but on Times Square and Main Street, on the basements, bowling alleys and backyards of Middle America, on American subcultures like the motorcycle-racing circuit, the world of the oil rigger and the urban underworld. These films feature men whose ordinary faces would have condemned them to the secondary status of HE
Paul D. Zimmerman is the cinema editor of Newsweek magazine.
A PROLIFERATING ARMY OF YOUNG, ADVENTUROUS Fll.M-MAKERS IN THE U.S. IS TEARING APART THE OLD HOLLYWOOD SYSTEM AND CREATING A NEW KIND OF CINEMA WHICH REFLECTS THE MOODS, HOPES AND ANXIETIES OF ITS AUDIENCES.
character actors only a decade agolike the frail, baldish Jack Nicholson and the unglamorous Dustin Hoffman-and have enlisted the considerable talents of new actresses whose unconventional good looks are as offbeat as the roles they play. The life-styles and attitudes of these new heroes and heroines reflect the dissident outlook of the younger directors, who themselves question the prevailing values of American life. A personal cinema is being born, and in its films can be read the search for a better way of life.
T he first flickerings of this new itinerant industry have already been seen in such successes as Dennis Hopper's "Easy Rider" and Robert Rafelson's "Five Easy Pieces," in "M*A*S*H" and "Joe': and "Diary of a Mad Housewife," in "Little Fauss and Big Halsy." But these are just the harbingers of a whole new wave of American films, conceived and developed by screenwriters and directors, not producers and studio chiefs, and focused in a personal way on American traditions and values.
This power shift still leaves the Now he is putting the finishing touchesona $500,OOO(Rs.3,750,000) studios holding the trump cardproduction of Richard Farina's money-but the situation is more open than it has been since the earli- "Been Down So Long It Looks est informal days of American films. Like Up to Me." Warner Brothers will release the futuristic "THX "A couple of years ago, if I wanted 1138," the collaboration of 25-yearto direct a film, I couldn't have gotold San Francisco-based director ten to see anyone of any importance George Lucas and 26-year-old at the studios," says 31-year-old Richard Wechsler, co-producer of screenwriter John Milius, who has also written movies that will star "Five Easy Pieces," who will soon be directing his first film, "A Way of Robert Redford and Frank Sinatra. Life."" ow I can go to the head of any studio and present my idea. rom the 1920s until after the Second World War, HollyThat doesn't mean they'll finance it, wood was a "closed shop." Under the but at least they're listening." This sudden attentiveness is born autocratic leadership of men like Harry Cohn at Columbia, Louis B. not of charity but of necessity. Profits Mayer at M-G-M and Jack Warner are down, production schedules at Warner Brothers, Hollywood mohave been cut back, the old formulas nopolized the movie industry, making about what films should make money no longer apply and no new virtually every American film on its own back lots. It held in thrall an formulas have been found. Panic American public that cheerfully haunts the executive offices, and confusion reigns at even the most spent 80 cents of every spectatoramusement dollar at the movies. profitable studios. And, to satisfy this massive conThrough this massive hole ripped in studio confidence have rushed all sumption, the major companies devised an assembly-line studio system kinds of new talents. Jeff Young, 27, showed a 20-minute film to that could turn out a film a week on the premises. Paramount Pictures two years ago.
F
Independent production was all but impossible. The banks abetted the Hollywood hegemony by lending money almost exclusively to the big studios. And even if a producer could find the funds and facilities to make his own movie, where was he to show it, since the studios owned or controlled most of the movie houses? But¡ by the late I940s, the autocracy was cracking. The star players rebelled, and the contract system collapsed. In 1950, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that. the studios restrained trade by owning chains of movie theatres. And then came television. The old audience and the sure-fire moneymaker vanished forever.
An important force responsible for the growth of personal cinema is its new audience-young Americans who are better educated, more selective.
a large audience whose interests had been left untapped," says screenwriter Buck Henry. "As the mass audience moved towards TV, an effort was made to accommodate these special tastes." One such effort, "The Graduate," rewrote the, moviemaking rules. "Every studio turned it down," recalls Henry, who wrote the screenplay. "They thought you had to have a movie star and they didn't think Anne Bancroft qualified. They thought you needed a young star to play Benjamin and no such animal t the same time, the success of existed. And they were suspicious Federico Fellini's "La Dolce of making a movie from a minor Vita" attested to the presence of a novel. But, of course, when the piclarge and educated audience eager ture succeeded, all that thinking for films with something to say. changed. 'The Graduate' made posFrank and Eleanor Perry's low-budg- sible motion pictures in which the et success "David and Lisa" in 1962 theme is the star and the star is the director. " demonstrated that America didn't Suddenly, a whole new set of have to rely on foreign films to bring in these people. "Some film-makers faces appeared in leading roles: realized that there was, and still is, Dustin Hoffman, Jack Nicholson,
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Richard Benjamin, Alan Arkin, Donald Sutherland, Jon Voight, Elliott Gould, Dennis Hopper, Stacy Keach, Frank Langella and Gene Wilder. "Ten years ago, they wanted the kind of face that only a few hundred people in the world possess -the Hollywood face," says Wilder. "They didn't want people who looked like the people in the audience. Now, however, they realize they can make money by letting the audience see actors with whom they can identify." The continued success of Independent low-budget films like "Bonnie and Clyde," "Rachel, Rachel" and "Goodbye, Columbus" foreshadowed another watershed film-"Easy Rider." With its low risk-it cost $300,000 (Rs. 2,250,000) to make-and its high profits-it promises to gross some $30 million"Easy Rider" seemed to offer the kind of sure-fire formula the industry had been searching for since the first days of television. But, as the prototype for an explosion of "youth" movies with their instant anti-Establishment stance, it raised the question of quality in an emphatic way.
Many film-makers are now swinging away from making movies that rely upon either the youth market or topicality for their success."Speed Is of the Essence," for example, a youth-on-dr:llgs story, is being drastically rewritten now to broaden its appeal beyond its original teen-age audience. After the runaway success of "Easy Rider," the studios started operating on the slogan "Malee.it for under S I million (Rs.7,5oo,OOO)." But with the success of "Patton," which cost $12.5 million (Rs. 93,750,000), and the $10.5 million (Rs. 78,750,000) "Airport," the industry returned to its present state of confusion. if the major studios wantEven ed to turn out one blockbuster after another, today's tight money market would preclude it. 20th Century-Fox, which spent 5100 million (Rs. 750,000,000) on movies in 1969, plans to spend only $25 million this year. Paramount, which used to be good for 30 films annually, turned out only 14 in 1970. And the American film industry as a whole distribcontinued
THE MOVEMENT PROMISES THE KIND OF PERSONAL, INTELLIGENT AND RELEVANT CINEMA AMERICANS HAVE ADMIRED IN EUROPEAN FILM-MAKING FOR DECADES.
uted no more than' 250 movies last per cent unemployment due to proyear, or half of what Hollywood duction cutbacks, are permitting cranked out in its heyday. directors to use absolutely minimal This cutdown in production has crews on films costing less than been dictated by a shift in audience $1 million (Rs. 7,500,000). And the attendance as well. "Peol?le used august Screen Actors Guild has to go to the movies," says David agreed to dispense with union scale Picker of United Artists. "Now they -usually $400 (Rs. 3,000) a weekgo to see a particular movie. And on pictures budgeted at $150,000 that difference has changed the (Rs. 1,125,000) and under. Even the movie business altogether." Indeed, studios have lifted their 25 per cent only 15 million Americans went to overhead charge for many films the movies weekly in 1969 as against made entirely on location. 87 million in 1947, before the advent of television. And this shrinkage dvances in technology have has hurt everyone. Even those permitted t producers and direccompanies that remain relatively tors to shoot their films without prosperous, like Columbia, Warner once venturing onto studio property. Brothers and United Artists, have "Nobody uses sound stages any been forced by the selectivity of the more," says Robert Rafelson, dinew audience to become more se- rector of "Five Easy Pieces." "Inlective themselves. stead, they use the Cinemobile This call for selectivity has ac- Mark IV, a movie studio on wheels counted for the rise to power within developed by 37-year-old Fouad the industry of a new and more dis- Said, a diminutive Arab immigrant cerning kind of executive whose , who has revolutionized film-making. artistic judgment is often as crucial The Cinemobile has replaced the as his business acumen. cumbersome and costly caravan of trucks that used to accompany films ut the changes in the American on location. This 1O.5-metre, busfilm industry go beyond the like beheqlOth contains dressingtransfer of class taste and the rise of rooms and bathrooms, space for a new leadership. "What's being estab- crew of 50 and an armada of lightlished right now is an entirely new weight equipment that, in itself, business," declares United Artists' saves money. By the end of 1970, David Picker, "altogether unlike the Cinemobi1es had done 70 motion movie business JO years ago. This pictures, almost twice as many as crisis that we're passing through they did in all of 1969." The proliferation of low-budget, right now-the frustrations and reorganizations~are basically healthy low-risk productions has accelerated signs. Everybody is re-evaluating the studios' inter.est in young direcwhat movies should be made for in tors. But, even so, the American film world is far from being overrun the light of realistic economics." The major studios and most in- by infant prodigies. Thirty-fourdependent producers share this year-old' John Korty, who has the penny-wise philosophy. The day of charming "The Crazy Quilt" to his the million-dollar star is over. In- credit as well as "Funnyman" and is having problems' stead, today's stars take a modest "Riverrun," ,salary in return for a sizable piece getting another project launched. of the potential profits. Often the For every Jeff Young or Paul Wildirector and the producer also work liams, there are scores of young under the deferred-salary system. film-makers who haven't got a foot To help cut costs, the industry's in the door. "What the studios unions, some of them suffering 50 really want," says Williams, "is
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young guys who have the expertise of the older guys-and they don't recognize the contradiction. The studios really want to go out on a safe limb." "But getting to make your first film isn't even the toughest test," continues the tall, casually clad Harvard graduate. "Plenty of guys make one film and you never see them again. On your first film, you have no money to work with, inexperienced actors, a green crew and an incredibly tight shooting schedule. And that's the film that often determines your whole career. Getting to make your second filmthat's passing the test." Still, studios are beginning to realize that film-makers make better movies than do businessmen. But the power of the purse is none the less a commanding one. "Even when a studio merely puts up the money and views the final product, they're exercising a measure of control," says director Arthur Penn, who fought the Hollywood system for years to attain creative command over his pictures. Perhaps, but the fact remains that there is a limit to the interference a' studio can impose once the director has been given his head. Today films
like "Easy Rider," "Five Easy Pieces," "All-American Boy," "Out of It," "Greetings" and "Little Fauss and Big Halsy"-while in many ways still collaborative enterprises -ultimately express the personal vision of the director rather than the corporate vision of a studio. And it follows that films made by individuals carry a stronger antiEstablishment viewpoint than movies made by Establishments. "What you're seeing now," declares Frank Perry, who directed "Diary of a Mad Housewife," "is the flowering of personal cinema in America. It's a revolution that can't be reversed." With
these new movies, a new hero has emerged. He is often a surrogate for the director himself, outside society, alienated by mainstream American values, searching for his identity as he moves across the face of America. LikeJack Nicholson's Bobby Dupea in "Five Easy Pieces" or Robert Redford's Halsy Knox or the wandering cyclists of "Easy Rider," these new heroes are most often losers whose heroism is measured in their ability not to triumph but to survive. "In the old movies," says Richard Benjamin, who will play the lead
Cinemobile Mark IV,above, has revolutionizedfilm-making. Right, Dennis Hopper (centre) is typical of a new generation of stars who are noted for acting ability rather than good looks. in "The Marriage of a Young Stockbroker," "you were a hero if you cleaned up Dodge City. Today you're a hero if you somehow manage to keep your life your own."
In
many ways, the new hero grows legitimately out of the films of the 1940s and '50s in which Humphrey Bogart followed his own independent, Hemingwayish ethic. But the old heroes, played by men like Henry Fonda and James Stewart and Gary Cooper and Clark Gable, may have been alienated but they couldn't talk about it. "It wasn't part of the male myth to intellectualize," says director Alan J. Pakula. "The old heroes didn't articulate their predicament." Adds Buck Henry: "Now they're beginning to talk about things that have to do with their own behaviour. Heroes can now be intellectuals, which they never were in American films. Perhaps it's because, until recently,the audience was so profound-
Iy anti-intellectual itself. But the younger audience identifies with a melodrama of ideas." The new hero often stands squarely in opposition to society's accepted values, whether that challenge takes the form of the irreverence expressed by Elliott Gould and Donald Sutherland as the medics in "M* A *S*H" or the direct political action embraced by Jon Voight as "The Revolutionary." At the same time that they are examining prevailing values, the new wave of American films is also destroying or discarding the myths on which a generation of films was founded. For one thing, the morality of the traditional Western is under attack in such films as Dennis Hopper's "The Last Movie." "The Western moral code is wrong," says the 34-year-old Hopper. "You don't have the right to take up a gun if someone wrongs you. That's the job of the police." Agrees actor Jon Voight: "We're breaking down those old myths about killing faceless people with no moral questions raised." Redford's films attack other shibboleths: the value of winning and obsessive competition that informs American life. Frank Perry, in "Diary of a Mad Housewife,"
implicitly assaults the cheery connubial comedies of the 1940s. But,
at the same time, American movies are minting fresh myths of their own that are often as naIve as those that shaped the films of the 1940s. "Some movies are creating the myths of the young," says Penn. "They promote the notion that freedom from all authority is an unqualified good, that mobility as a life-style is superior to permanence, that the older gerieration is totally corrupt, that cool is the only legitimate emotional response. And what's worse about these films is that they patronize young people. They reduce them to their accoutrements-their bikes, their music-all their labels." "I haven't seen a lead character in a movie who is young and still three-dimensional," agrees Dustin Hoffman. But he feels that the young are confederates in the creation of false myths. "These kids were raised in affluence and they have a legitimate feeling of guilt about their privileged position," says Hoffman. "Out of this comes a feeling of sympathy for the outcast-the black, the alienated, the down-and-outer. But that's all nonsense, because all
they're getting at the movies IS entertainment that alleviates their guilt. It's an easy way out for them without having to work in a ghetto or fight for what they believe." "The romance of rootlessness put forward in 'Easy Rider'," adds Alan Pakula, "is the essence of the American Western with its fantasy of the vagabond life. This myth of rootlessness that today's youth is aching for is the same ache that their fathers sought to answer in going to John Wayne movies and their grandfathers did when they watched William S. Hart. Hollywood is merely exploiting the same naIve myth of male adventure, only dressing it up in more sophisticated clothing." Pakula's indictment, however, does not apply to all American films. Many, like "Five Easy Pieces" and "Little Murders," are striving to come to grips with American society and, in the process, are acting out a search for a better way to.live. Screenwriter Charles Eastman talks of the need for films to "remind man of what is positive in his nature." Alan Arkin speaks of his films hopefully "helping the human race to survive." seriousness among today's A new moviemakers is undeniableand it promises at its best !o produce in the months and years ahead the kind of intelligent, personal and relevant cinema Americans have admired in European film-making for decades. Hopefully, it will be a film industry grounded in the traditional humanism of John Ford and George Stevens, just as in France, Truffaut has carried through and updated the humanism of Jean Renoir. At least the conditions are ripe for such a flourishing. And the need is clear. Says Arthur Penn: "The best we can hope for from our films is that they will talk to us about how we can live decently. People are looking for a way of coming together, and perhaps movies can aid in this search for mercy and goodwill." END
~.L" ~N THE NEW INDIAN CINEMA ~N ~N ~~! ~l"'t.
IN THE INDIAN CINEMA, TOO, A NEW GENERATION OF TALENTED FILM DIRECTORS HAS EMERGED DURING THE PAST FEW YEARS. FULL OF ENTHUSIASM, IDEAS AND ZEAL FOR INNOVATION, THEY ARE REVOLUTIONIZING THE WHOLE CONCEPT OF MOVIEMAKING AND INFUSING INTO THE CINEMA A FRESH MEANING AND DEPTH.
Top: Arti and Vivek in "Ek Adhuri Kahani," directed by Mrinal Sen. Cameraman K.K. Mahajan, above, at work during the filming of Basu Chatterji's "Sara Akash." Right: Madhu Chakraborty and Nandita Thakur in "Sara Akash/'
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NEW CREATIVE force has sprung up in Indian cinema. The spasms of experimental excitement that shook the celluloid world with "Bhuvan Shome" are more frequent now than ever before. Several young directors have steered clear of cliche and convention to explore new and sensitive themes, infusing into the cinema a fresh meaning and depth. Like the directors of the "underground" and experimental American films, the standard-bearers of the New Indian Cinema have varied backgrounds and interests. But they have one thing in common-an overpowering urge for self-expression. Their philosophy could be summed up in the words of Jonas Mekas, generally considered the
high priest of U.S. experimentalists: "We don't know what man is, we don't know what cinema is.... Let us, therefore, be completely open and listening, ready to move to any direction upon the slightest call. Don't get tied down to the Establishments; they will go down and drag us down. The sun-that is our direction. The beauty-that is our direction; not money, not success, not comfort, not security, not even our own happiness, but the happiness of all of us together." The New Cinema directors are making films of protest that inveigh against the excesses and injustices of society; films of beauty that revel in the charms and delights of nature; films of confusion that reflect the
chaos and conflict born of materialism; films of love, that reveal a zest for life, a joy in living; films of liberation that offer a refreshing escape into the world of fantasy. In short, they are the highly individual and personal reactions to society of men who think deeply or feel intensely. Consider some of the prominent productions made by the New Cinema over the last two or three years: "Bhuvan Shome" (directed by Mrinal Sen): The film is about a duty-conscious, dry-as-dust government official whose thinking and way of life undergo a dramatic change after he meets an innocent rustic girl. (The film has won the President's Gold Medal in the National Awards, while its hero and
heroine have won the Best Actor award and a certificate of commendation respectively.) "Uski Roti": A provocative "think" film with several layers of meaning. It tells about a conscientious wife who waits at the bus stop every day to hand over a lunch packet to her husband, a bus driver. The thoughts fleeting across her mind during her long wait are presented in a steady stream of sequences. Director: Mani Kaul, a diploma-holder in advanced direction of the Film Institute of India, Poona. "Uski Roti" is his first feature film essay. "Kanku": Made by Kantilal Rathod, known mainly for his advertisement shorts and cartoon ani-
mation films, the film won heroine Pallavi Mehta the Best Actress award at the Chicago Film Festival. "Kanku" unfolds the tale of a woman widowed in the prime of life, who fights spiritedly for a place in the sun for herself and her son. An unforgettable study in character, it also offers fascinating glimpses of life in a Saurashtra village. "Padi Pisir Birmi Biksha": A Bengali feature, partly in colour, made by Arundhati Devi. A foray into fantasy, it tells about an adventurous boy who goes out with his uncle to unearth hidden treasure. "Sansar Seemante," in Bengali, directed by Rajen Tarafdar from a story by Premendra Mitra, is about two outcasts of society-a
robber and a prostitute-who make a brave bid to bury the past and lead a dignified, honourable life. "Khilonewala": A colour short in English and Hindi, written, produced and directed by S. Sukhdev, is about a toy vendor full of the milk of human kindness, who understands no communal distinctions. He pays the price for his liberalism. The film graphically gets across the message of national integration. "Sara Akash": A young man is talked into marriage by his family though he is worried that it will stand in the way of professional advancement and affect his dreams for the future. He is bitter against his wife and ill-treats her. It takes a long separation to awaken his latent
love for her and the realization that he cannot do without her. Directed by Basu Chatterji. "Wonders of the Forest," a colour documentary in English, vividly captures wildlife in W(stern India. Made by K. Premsinh Varma. "Shantata Court Chalu Ahe": A mock trial by an amateur drama troupe, with an unwed mother in the dock for infanticide, becomes a serious affair when the actors get carried away by their roles and become too realistic. Directed by Satyadev Dubey, a well-known figure in the Hindi theatre of Bombay. Most of these films have been made on shoestring budgets, with newcomers as stars. They have another important feature in common continued
-backing by the Film Finance Corporation (FFC) Limited.
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THE NEW-WAVE FILMS EXPOSE THE EXCESSES AND INJUSTICES OF SOCIETY, DEPICT THE CHAOS AND CONFLICT BORN OF MATERIALISM, SHOW THE BEAUTY AND SPLENDOUR OF ATURE, REVEAL THE JOY OF LIFE.
A scene from the Gujarati film "Kanku." above, directed by Kantilal Rathod. Waheeda Rehman. right, in Raj Marbros's "Trisandhya." The film is in Hindi and Malayalam. Above right: A still from "Uski Roti." directed by Mani Kalll.
he FFC is destined to play a pivotal role in the progress of the New Cinema. In a recent interview, FFC chairman B.K. Karanjia spelled out details of its new financing policy; he also spoke of the tremendous potential of the new film movement, and the FFC's plans to aid the movement. Q. What is the FFC's new financing policy? B.K. Karanjia: The FFC decided in 1969 to finance, in the main, low-budget black-and-white films. It also initiated a three-pronged drive-selecting rich human-interest stories by writers in Hindi and the regional languages ; encouraging, as far as possible, talented and prom-
ising film-makers who otherwise could not hope to get loans from the conventional sources; and tapping the rich reservoir of trained talent provided by the Film Institute of India. Q. How far has the policy paid off?
A. It has resulted In a rich crop of worthwhile films. FFC-aided films bagged seven national awards Jast year. While we are very happy about the awards, we would like to em-
Suhasini Mulay, left, the teen-age heroine of Mrinal Sen's "Bhuvan Shame," which won the President's Gold Medal for the best film of 1969. Below, Suhasini is seen'with the film's hero Utpal Dutt.
phasize not these, but the trends that the FFC is trying to establish, the directors it is giving the film industry, the tastes it is attempting to create. Q. How many loan applications do you receive and what procedure do you follow in sanctioning loans? A. On an average, we now receive about 12 applications per month. These are screened in three stages. Initially, the FFC's Technical Adviser and myself go through the story and screenplay in full. Some applications are rejected at the first stage. At the second, applications are discussed threadbare by a script committee that comprises panels of producers, directors, film critics and writers. And the script committee's recommendations finally go for approval to the FFC's Board of Directors.
Q. What are the FFC's future plans? A. We have decided to enter the field of exhibition and distribution. The need for this was dramatically highlighted by the failure of "Bhuvan Shome," despite its wide acclaim, to secure regular commercial circuit release. The corporation proposes to acquire theatres on lease in the four principal cities of Bombay, Madras, Calcutta and Delhi. Subject to the availability of funds and of theatres, the scheme could be extended to several other cities in the next two years, with the ultimate objective of constructing within a decade or so a network of low-cost, semi-permanent theatres all over the country. Q. What films will the art theatres show? A. They will screen not merely the continued
THE NEW CINEMA IS BEING GREATLY HELPED BY THE FILM FINANCE CORPORATION. IT PROVIDES LOANS TO PROMISING FILM-MAKERS, FINDS AVENUES FOR TRAINED TALENT FROM THE POONA FILM INSTITUTE.
low-budget FFC-aided films but also Indian and foreign classics, and distinguished foreign films which do not get release through the regular commercial circuits. In this respect they will function in collaboration with the various film societies and clubs in the country. The art theatre has a very meaningful role to play in promoting better cinema. The art theatres in America show the world's best films. They have succeeded in conditioning U.S. audiences to accept products other than those of Hollywood. In fact Ray's "Pather Panchali"
came into the limelight through a record run in a U.S. art theatre. Improved audience taste, created by the art theatre, will naturally lead to a demand for better films and the elimination of mediocre films. The art theatres will therefore ultimately make their effects felt on the commercial cinema. Q. In what other ways can the FFC help the film industry? A. In course of time we could, like the American Film Institute, help in sponsoring film clubs and libraries, in acquiring classics, in holding seminars and discussions.
Top: Irshad Panjatan in "Khilonewala," directed by S. Sukhdev. Palla vi Mehta and Kishore Bhatt, above, in "Kanku." Pallavi won the Best Actress award at the recent Chicago film festival for her pel10rmance in the picture. Right: Nitin Sethi and Nandita Thakur ill Prem Kapoor's "Badnam Basti." Above right: Garima in "Uski Roti."
All these will help create an atmosphere for the encouragement and recognition of talent. Q. Can we speak of a conflict between the art and the commercial film in India in years to come? A. Not really. The New Wave directors abroad are known to have been absorbed into the traditional cinema to the considerable enrichment of the latter. Hollywood directors are forever drawing on the vocabulary of the underground movement. The daring innovations and experiments of the latter are soon exploited by the commercial
film. This could happen in India too. Already Basu Chatterji, who made the off-beat "Sara Akash," has been picked up by a film producer. We are happy about it-we have given the industry a new director. We have no quarrel with the commercial film which has its own aims. What we are trying to do is to open up the doors of the cinema world to all winds. We feel a talented newcomer should not be thwarted from the thrill of film-making for lack of funds. It is only newcomers who can make a cinema movement throb
with vitality. For they are full of enthusiasm, freshness and innovatory zeal. In the United States, there is a profusion of film schools that breed scores of energetic filmmakers. In India, only bodies like the FFC can bring about that kind of atmosphere. "Old cinema, even when it is successful, is horrible. New cinema, even when it fails, is beautiful," said Jonas Mekas. This may be an exaggeration, but it fervently expresses the spirit and temper of the times. And Indian cinema has started moving with it. END
EVERY SUMMER DAY in Ocean City begins and cnds for vacationers with one lovely, languorous thought ... when to go down to the be:'tch again. To stretch out on the sand and turn all. shades from pink to bronze is a daily commitment made by those who spend their vacation here beside the Atlantic. Everything in the town revolves around the beach and the attractions it provides. More than most resorts along this coast, Ocean City offers something for everyone. The town runs along the beach for some 125 blocks that are crowded with restaurants, places to stay and shops of every sort to offer the vacationer just what he needs for a relaxing week-end. Most visitors come to Ocean City from the surrounding urban centres of nearby Washington, D.C., Baltimore, Richmond and Annapolis as well as from New York. During a season some 1.5 million vacationers make the trip. The average length of stay, according to a local survey, is one week. But the beach is easily accessible (only a few hours' drive by car from big cities such as New York and Philadelphia) and may often be only one of several spots visited by a family during the two to four weeks they spend on vacation. A large proportion of summer visitors are young people, who are attracted by the activity on the beach, the crowded promcnade lined with mechanical joy-rides, games and small eating-stands-and by the fact that most of their friends are probably there also. They come for a few days or may spend the summer working as waiters' assistants, waitresses or in other similar positions of temporary employment. What any vacationer does at the beach is up to him, and it can be a last-minute decision because the place abounds with things to do and much of the equipment
needed can be rented-sailboats, surfboards, bicycles, motorbikes, barbecue grills, volleyball sets-and all the teammates one needs can be readily found. The object of all this, of course, is to allow vacationers to recharge their energies by doing the unusual rathcr than the usual.
There's so much a holidaymuker can do to occupy his time happily-swim, be sketched, pluy bull, relish a stand-up snuck, take his pick 01 a vurietll of jou¡rides ...
continued SPA
AUGUST 1971 25
Funalul relaxatioll
wait Oil alld off sl,ore.
AloI,e or with friends, time by the sea call be all immeasurable gift.
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Can man be better-balanced, less destructive, happier? Working towards that goal, a Yale professor is a pioneer in the new science of electrical stimulation of the brain, an impassioned prophet of a "psycho-civilized" society.
"WE
ARE going to talk about love and war and hate," begins the professor, Dr. Jose M.R. Delgado of the YaleUniversity School of Medicine in New Haven, Connecticut. The class is an undergraduate course at Yale. Although registration was limited to 15, the seminar room is crowded; every chair around the long table is filled, and some students are sitting on packing-cases stored at one end, and some are on extra chairs near the door. "But we shall consider these subjects in a novel way: from the inside of the thinking brain. What is going on there, what is happening in the nerve cells while we talk, whilewe behave, while we feel?" Delgado, an emotional speaker, pauses.
This article has been reprinted by permission from The New York Times Magazine. Copyright © 1970 by The New York Times Company.
A spare man in his mid-50s, he leans forward on the table, resting his weight on both large hands. His eyes, restless and light in colour, rove swiftly around the circle of staring faces. "We have a new way to study behaviour, a new methodology which we have developed," he resumes in a voice that is low but is as vibrant with promise as a preacher's. There is a stir, almost a sigh from the students; this is what they want to hear about, this "new methodology." It is E.S.B.: electrical stimulation of the brain. Delgado is one of the leading pioneers in its refinement and development. He is also the impassioned prophet of a new "psycho-civilized" society whose members would influence and alter their own mental functions to create a "happier, less destructive and better-balanced man." A few days earlier, The New York Times
ran a front-page story on Dr. Delgado which described his most recent accomplishment: the establishment of direct, non-sensory communication between the computer and the brain of a chimpanzee. This study was the latest in a series of experiments involving two-way radio-wave contact with the brains of freely interacting animals. Because it clearly demonstrates that behaviour can be influenced by remote radio command, this research has been seen by some as posing an ultimate threat to human freedom and integrity. The morning that news story appeared, it was raining mildly in New Haven. "What do you want me to tell you?" Delgado asks, sitting down at his desk. "1 don't want to talk about my wife, my family, my friends. That's not science." He glances, scowling, through the window, and his expression suddenly clears. "The human race," he says, "is at an evolutionary turning point. We're very close to having the power to construct our own mental functions, through a knowledge of genetics (which I think will be complete within the next 25 years), and through a continued
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-ike the ancient djnosaurs, modern man could become extjnct. His "muscles"guns, mjssiles, bjologjcal weapons-have developed djsproportionately to his brajn.
knowledge of the cerebral mechanisms which underlie our behaviour. The question is what sort of humans would we like, ideally, to construct?" He smiles. "Not only our cities are very badly planned; we as human beings are, too. The results in both cases are disastrous." "I am an optimist," continues Delgado. "I don't think we're condemned by our natural fate to violence and self-destruction. My thesis is that just as we've evolved in our understanding of material forces, so we can-through a combination of new in technology and of intelligence-evolve our understanding of the mind. "Man once used his, intelligence to achieve ecological liberation, so that he no longer had to be wet when it rained, or cold when the sun was hidden, or killed because predators were hungry. He can achieve mental liberation also. Through of the brain, the brain an understanding itself may act to re-shape its own structures and functions intelligently. That we bring this about is most essential for the future of mankind." "When we know the mechanisms by which the brain operates," resumes Delgado, "then we will be able to control our reality. The predicament of mankind is not too different from that of the dinosaurs, who flourished on Earth for some 30 million years. They had very little intelligence; and 36 tonnes of flesh and bones. When the environment began to change, they lacked the intelligence to understand their situation, to adapt. Their fate-extinction. "We, too, have developed disproportionate muscles and bones: missiles, guns, biological warfare. Our brains are not developed accordingly; they must become so or our own fate will be the same. "I have a great respect for the human brain," he remarks. "It distressed me greatly when I first came to the United
States in the early '50s to see' so many patients without frontal lobes. Of course, much psychosurgery has now been replaced by drug treatment, but there are still people with dangerous seizures which simply do not respond to medication. In these cases, rather extensive portions of the temporal lobe may be removed-and since brain tissue doesn't regenerate, those functions which are lost are lost. "Intracerebral electrodes offer a more conservative approach. Instead of cutting down through cerebral tissue, we insert very fine stainless-steel wires. Then we can record the activity of various brain areas; in this way it becomes possible to locate the disturbances with a good degree of precision. After that, damaged areas can be treated by cauterization, or by E.S.B. in a brain area which inhibits ongoing activity. Or still another possibility would be inducing electrical excitement in a competing area. For instance, there is one epileptic patient who uses a self-stimulator each time he feels a seizure coming on. By activating another part of the brain, he stops the discharge from spreading; the fit never develops." n the past several years, electrode implantation has been used in the diagnosis and treatment of involuntary movements and intractable pain, as well as in epilepsy, some cases of schizophrenia and of excessive anxiety. Delgado was one of a small group of brain researchers to pioneer their clinical application. Implantation of electrodes, although carried out only as an alternative to destructive surgery, is "like installing a magic window through which one may look at the activity of the conscious, behaving brain." "We are," says Delgado, "only in the initial stages of our understanding of E.S.B., but we know that it can delay a heartbeat, move a finger, bring a word to memory, evoke a sensation." Brain stimulation in humans has elicited It has diverse and curious responses. stirred long hallucinations, such as hearing a piece of music being played from beginning to end; it has produced peculiar illusions of deja vu-the intense feeling that the present moment has been experienced in the past. Patients have also described the vivid "re-living" of moments from their past, far more immediate than mere
I
recollection. All the sensations of the former experience seem to spring to lifecars passing in the street outside, the sounds of children playing, words said and forgotten long ago. "There are basic mechanisms inside the brain, I believe," says Delgado, "that are responsible for all mental activities, including emotion. I think we are now on the threshold of understanding them. We must do so-and soon-if the precarious race between unchained atoms and intelligent brains is to be won." Electrode implantation does not entail a large opening in the skull. Only a small burr hole is drilled, through which micromanipulators guide the electrode shaftsassemblies of very fine wires insulated with Teflon and scraped bare at the tips to permit the passage of current-down to their desired locations in the brain. The electrodes can be placed quite precisely with the aid of special (stereotaxic) maps of the brain and measuring instruments. Once they are in, the ends of the wires are soldered to a small exterior socket anchored to the skull. After anaesthesia wears off, plugging in to the fully-awake brain of cat, monkey or man is as simple as putting a lamp plug in a wall socket. There is no "awareness" of the electrodes, no ensuing damage to brain tissue. "There are chimps in our laboratory," Delgado says, "who have had up to 100 contacts implanted for more than four years; there seems to be no limit to how long they may safely be left in." Delgado's early work at Yale was done with cats, and then increasingly with the far more intelligent and interesting monkey. "By pushing the right 'button' we could make a monkey open or shut his eyes, turn his head, move his tongue, flex his limbs. He could be made to yawn, sneeze, hop." During one experiment, a cat began the motions of licking each time it was stimulated at a certain point in the cortex. If the animal happened to be sleeping, it licked in its sleep; if awake, however, the cat looked around for a milk bowl to lap at; if there was no bowl, it began licking its own fur. "The cat seemed determined," smiles Delgado, "to make sense out of what he was doing." E.S.B. can evoke not only simple but behaviours which may be complicated
performed in sequence. One monkey, Ludy, each time she was stimulated in the red nucleus (in the posterior part of the brain) would stop what she was doing; change expression, turn her head to the right; stand up on two feet and circle to the right; climb a pole and then descend again; growl, threaten and often attack another monkey; then change attitude and approach the rest of the group in a friendly way. This "automatism" was repeated in the same order through 20,000 stimulations! "Interestingly enough," remarks Delgado, "when Ludy was stimulated at another point in the red nucleus only three millimetres away, she simply yawned." ometimes it may happen that the voluntary impulse of an animal opposes an electrically-evoked movement such as raising of a foreleg; in that case, the movement might not occur. "But," Delgado says, "by increasing the intensity of stimulation it is always possible to get the animal to te1>pond as 'directed.' " Similarly, human beings are unable to resist motor responses elicited by E.S.B.: Delgado describes a patient under treatment for psychomotor epilepsy who slowly clenched his hand into a fist each time he was stimulated through an electrode in the left parietal cortex. When asked to try to keep his fingers extended through the next stimulation, the man simply could not do it. "I guess," he commented ruefully, "your electricity is stronger than my will." One fascinating question was whether the rage which could be induced in cats by E.S.B. was truly experienced by them emotionally. Were the hissing and spitting mere motor responses-or did the cat actually feel all the noxious sensations which accompany anger and fear? In 1954, Delgado, working with Warren Roberts and Neal Miller, a well-known psychologist, demonstrated that E.S.B. in certain brain areas which produce rage responses could act as a powerful punishment. Hungry cats who received E.S.B. at these points each time they began to eat quickly learned to avoid food. But cats being stimulated in other cerebral areasthough they might rear back from the bowl momentarily-never were motivated to learn to refuse food: they returned to eating as soon as the stimulation was over. "The implication," explains Delgado,
S
"was that there were places in the brain which corresponded to negative emotional states, to the cerebral perception of pain. If that were so, we could understand the mechanisms of suffering and block them at their source." Shortly after this experiment, doctors started to use brain stimulation for the relief of intractable pain. Delgado, among others, later confirmed the existence of "reward areas" in the brain of the monkey. "In humans also, during diagnostic procedures, states of arousal and pleasure have been evoked. We have seen this in our own experience. One patient of ours was a rather reserved 30-year-old woman suffering from psychomotor epilepsy; she had electrodes implanted in her right temporal lobe. E.S.B. at one cerebral point made her suddenly confess her passionate regard for the therapist-whom she'd never seen before. She grabbed his hands and kissed them and told him how grateful she was for what he was doing for her. "When stimulation was over, she was as poised and distant as ever; she remained so during E.S. B. through all other electrodes. But the same thing happened when she was stimulated at the same point another day." There have been several studies of llUmans with implanted electrodes. One, carried out by Dr. C. Sem-Jacobsen in Norway with a group of patients suffering from schizophrenia and Parkinson's disease, describes E.S.B. at different cerebral points as producing moods which ranged from "feeling good," to "slight euphoria," to where "the euphoria was beyond normal limits" and the patients laughed hilariously. "Pleasure is not in the skin being caressed or in a full stomach," remarks Delgado. "It is somewhere inside the cranial vault." nd so, also, are anxiety, fear, aggression. Earlyin the '60s, Delgado wanted to study problems of aggression-and its inhibition-among rhesus-monkey colonies in which some members were receiving E.S.B., which increased or decreased levels of hostility. But there were practical problems: the monkeys tended to become curious about trailing wires, and their destructive capabilities were legendary. Most researchers had to separate and restrain them in plastic chairs. Delgado, who is, in the words of a colleague, "a ki nd of 19th-century mad
A
elgado made world headlines when he stopped in it tracks a bull charging at him in a Spanish arena by merely pushing a button on a radio transmitter.
inventor, a real technological wizard," developed an instrument called a stimoceiver. This was, as its name implies, both a brain stimulator and brain-wave receiver; it could send stimulations by remote radio command on three channels and recordings receive electroencephalogram on three channels. Weighing roughly 30 grams, the stimoceiver was easily anchored to the animal's skull; it was monkey-proof. A series of experiments was now carried out with monkeys who were freed of wires, interacting spontaneously and receiving E.S.B. by remote radio command. They demonstrated that while stimulation could increase the level of hostility experienced by an animal, whether or not he expressed his hostility against another monkey depended upon the social situation. Monkeys form hierarchical societies. If rage and aggression were evoked in a monkey at the bottom of the social scale, no threats would be directed against other monkeys. If, however, the animal were moved into another colony in which he held a higher rank, he would threaten or attack the animals below him. When the "boss monkey" of a colony was stimulated, his attacks were also carefully determined by the social situation: he attacked the male just below him in rank, never his girl friend. Thus while E.S.B. could arouse aggressions in peaceful simian societies, these feelings were always expressed in socially intelligent ways. Two years after developing the stimoceiver, Delgado and his invention made world headlines when he took part in a "bullfight" in Spain. Climbing into the ring at a farm near Cordova, this matador in sweater and slacks faced a brave bull-one of a species genetically bred for fierceness. Delgado, standing in the sun, waved a heavy red cape in the air. The bull lowered his head and charged through the dust. But, as the animal bore down on him, Delgado continued
••
wo areas of the same brain can already be made to communicate. Next step: direct con tact between two different brains-withou t participation of the senses.
pressed a small button on the radio transmitter in his hand: the bull braked to a halt. When the professor pressed another button, the bull turned away and trotted docilely towards the high wooden barrier. The bull had, of course, had electrodes implanted shortly before. The radio stimulation had activated an inhibitory area deep in the bull's brain, thus halting it. This disquieting demonstration of the power of brain stimulation aroused a flurry of speculation about the possibilities of remote-controlled behaviour. "Since that time," Delgado says ruefully, "I've received mail each year from people who think I'm controlling their thoughts." Crank letters are not likely to stop arriving after Delgado's recent announcement that he has established two-way, non-sensory communication between the brain and the computer. In the experiment, a young chimp named Paddy was equipped with 100 electrodes implanted in his brain and wired to a socket on top of his skull. Mounted over the socket was a stimoceiver, its tiny components encased in a Teflon box not much bigger than a cigarette lighter. addy, in the company of three other chimpanzees, was left to roam about an artificial, moat-surrounded island at Holloman Air Force Base in New Mexico. As he ran, ate, sat and played, his brain waves and other activities were monitored 24 hours a day. During early testing, it was found that E.S.B. in the central greythe emotionally "negative" area explored by the Swiss neurophysiologist W.R. Hess and then Delgado-was obnoxious and disturbing for Paddy. Meanwhile, a computer standing nearby was programmed to receive radio signals which were broadcasts of electrical activity from the chimp's brain and to respond to certain waves called "spindles." The spindles, coming from the amygdala, a structure deep in the temporal lobe, are
P
c.
correlated with aggressiveness :}nd excitement; they occur spontaneously about 1,000 times an hour in the brain waves from the amygdala. In response to each spindle, the computer was instructed to deliver a radio stimulation to Paddy's central grey. When the experiment began, each spindle produced by the amygdala was followed immediately by the punishing E.S.B. in the emotionally negative area-it was similar to the slapping of a child's hand each time he touches a forbidden object. Within two hours, spindling had diminished by 50 per cent. A few days later, there were practically no spindles at all. One part of the brain (the central grey) had "talked to" the other; it had forced the amygdala to change its normally occurring electrical activity! Paddy's behaviour changed also. He was less aggressive, his appetite waned, he sat around lazily with visitors or with the other chimps. "In this case, we were able to get one area of the brain to communicate with the other," Delgado says. "Soon, with the aid of the computer, we may have direct contact between two different brainswithout the participation of the senses." Paddy's changed behaviour persisted for two weeks following the experiment. Then the amygdala resumed its spindling and the chimp returned to normal. "One of the implications of this study," explains Delgado, "is that unwanted patterns of brain activity-for instance, those correlated with assaultive or anti-social activity-could be recognized by the computer before they ever reached consciousness in order to trigger pacification of the subject. "Another speculation is that the onset of epileptic attacks could be recognized and avoided by feedback." (Feedback occurs when the activities of an organism or machine are modified continuously by the interaction between its signals or output and the environment; thus, E.S.B. in the central grey made the amygdala suppress its spindling in much the same way that warmth rising in a room causes a thermostat to shut off the supply of heat.) Delgado looks forward to a time "not very far in the future" when cerebral pacemakers, operating in much the same way that cardiac pacemakers now do, will treat illnesses such as Parkinson's disease, anxiety, fear, obsessions, violent behav-
iour, by direct stimulation of the brain. The premise is that each of these illnesses has its own characteristic pattern of electrical activity. In the case of an epileptic, these would be the high-voltage slow waves which represent the simultaneous "explosion" of groups of neurons. Long before the first muscle-twitch of an epileptic fit is seen, the brain waves show this typical pattern. If they were being monitored by a computer, the machine could respond immediately by triggering radio stimulation to brain areas that would inhibit and contain the seizure. This would all take place below the level of perception, without the person's conscious awareness. For instance, a man walking down a street, equipped with a subcutaneous stimulator, could avoid an epileptic seizure through interaction with a computer kilo metres away-and never know it. Or, as seems quite feasible technologically, a mini-computer programmed to respond to a specific type of electrical activity could be worn on the person's body. Thus, the "go-between" connecting two areas of the same brain might be situated either in the middle of a medical centre or the middle of a shirt pocket. ertain types of uncontrollably assaultive behaviour might be treated without the computer, using carefully programmed stimulation in inhibitory brain areas. According to Delgado, these could, over a period of time, cause a mellowing of aggressive reactions. What is the choice? Does it lie, on the one hand, between spiralling violence and continuous outbreaks of aggression and war and, on the other hand, the development of a race of electrical toys whose every anti-social impulse could be neatly nipped by the computer before it ever became realized in the form of behaviour? In his intriguing, troubling book, Physical Control of the Mind, Delgado carefully explores the implications of E.S.B.: "The possibility of scientific annihilation of personal identity or, even worse, its purposeful control has sometimes been considered a future threat more awful than atomic holocaust," he writes. "The prospect of any degree of physical control of the mind provokes a variety of objections: theological objections because it affects free will, moral objections because it af-
C
fects individual responsibility, ethical objections because it may block self-defence mechanisms, philosophical objections because it threatens personal identity." However: " ... It is not knowledge itself but its improper use which should be regulated. A knife is neither good nor bad; but it may be used by a surgeon or an assassin. . . . Psychoanalysis, the use of drugs ... insulin or electro-shock ... are all aimed at influencing the abnormal personality of the patient in order to change his undesirable mental characteristics." Patients on drugs, he points out, are being controlled. Their behaviour is modified, their systems are flooded and sometimes there are deleterious side effects; also, they are made lethargic and stupid. "And why? Because one little group of neurons keeps misfiring. Is it destroying that patient's personal freedom to offer him precise, on-demand medication affecting only the area involved, so that none of his other mental processes are altered? "Suppose that the onset of epileptic attacks could be recognized by the computer and avoided by feedback: would that threaten identity? Or if you think of patients displaying assaultive behaviour due to abnormalities in brain functioning: do we preserve their individual integrity by' keeping them locked up in wards for the criminally insane?" E.S.B. is actually a rather crude technique based on the delivery of a monotonous train of, message less electrical pulses. Like the button which launches a rocket, it sets off a train of programmed events: biochemical, thermal, enzymatic, electrical. "Nothing which is not already in the brain can be put there by E.S.B.," Delgado says. "It cannot be used as a teaching tool. Since it doesn't carry specific thoughts it can certainly not be used to implant ideas or to order people about like robots-you couldn't use it to direct a person down to the mailbox to get the mail." 'Brain stimulation does offer, however, an experimental method for the study of the neurophysiological basis of behaviour. "True freedom," insists Delgado, "will come from an understanding of how the brain works; then we will be able to control our reality." A high-priority goal ought to be an intensive study of cerebral processes for the purpose of establishing an
educational system based on that knowledge: "We must first start with the realization that the mind, to all intents and purposes, does not exist at birth; in some brain areas as many as 80 to 90 per cent of the neurons don't form until afterwards. Personal identity is not something we are born with. It is a combination of genetic bias, the sensory information we receive, our educational and cultural inheritance. In other words, the mind is not revealed as the child matures; it is constructed." Genetic determination is like the blueprint of a beautiful house, Delgado contends: "But the house itself is not there; you can't sleep in a blueprint. The kind of building you eventually have will depend on the choice of which bricks, which wood, as the virgin which glass are used-just brain will be shaped by what is given to it from the environment. Now, in order to give this newborn brain the best possible building materials, there are questions to which we need answers: What is the chronology of imprinting? At what ages are certain patterns fixed? What are the true sources of pleasure and accomplishment? -this question has not only a psychological but a neurophysiological component, since we know that pleasure is localized in certain areas of the brain." Like many another prophet, Delgado is not always seen as such in his own country. Aside from the fantasy and fears aroused by his experiments, there are criticisms of the public stance he has adopted, as well as of his techniques and method. uestions about the brain, says a young neurophysiologist, are extremely complex: "People like Delgado can talk about breakthroughs in this and that, but progress in knowledge is slow. It may be several centuries before we have any real understanding of what is going on .... And besides there are differ:ent schools of thought. Some neurophysiologists think it's a waste of time to study groups of neurons and overall behaviour-that we'll learn more by figuring out what's happening in a single nerve cell. To a man with this approach, trying to understand the workings of the brain through gross stimulation using a hand lens to appears silly-like try and unlock the mysteries of the fine structure of a virus." Nevertheless, if not the dogmatic ex-
Q
othing which is not already in the brain can be put there by electrical stimulation. I t can not be used to implant ideas or to order people about like robots.
perimentalist, Delgado, according to his research associates, more than makes up for it: "He's an inventor in the purest sense. You can't fault his creativity," says Dan Snyder, a Ph.D. in physiological psychology who has worked with Delgado for the past several years. "The man drops gems of ideas in his casual conversations the way some people shed bacteria. That's part of the problem: he hasn't time to beat an experiment to death because he's got so many good ideas that he more or less has to be in 10 places at once." Speculations about the future implications of E.S.B.-medical and socialare still various and vague. According to Dr. Morton Reiser, chairman of the Yale department of psychiatry, there are "prob-, ably some frightening potentials" in Delgado's work. "If you can use computer technology to send an unmanned space satellite to the moon, then it doesn't seem utterly impossible that one day our computers will be sophisticated enough to be used to put thoughts into people's heads." He pauses doubtfully. "At any rate, one could possibly exert some influence on gross emotional behaviour. Suppose, for instance, there were someone with uncontrollable rage reactions which were due to something detectable in the nervous system. The computer could send back a stimulus to inhibit that response." Professor David Hamburg, chairman of the psychiatry department at Stanford University in California and an expert on brain and behaviour, says: "The stronger our scientific base, the better our position for making rational choices. Brain stimulation could lead to the relief of much human suffering, to new treatments for mental and neurological disorders; it could possibly help to solve some human problems and it may ultimately affect man's understanding and conception of END himself."
The versQ/i1e Benjamin Franklin, right, is best known to history as statesman, philosopher, inventor and diplomat. But in his youth, besides being printer, bookseller and newspaper publisher, Franklin was responsible for reforming the then miserable colonial postal service, which he ran at a profit for the first time.
THE POSTMAN
represents the only arm
of the Government
that makes daily
participants
in the ceremony hangs the
seal of the U.S. Postal Service-new,
contact with most Americans. At left is
simplified,
abstract-suggesting
a U.S. letter-carrier
streamlined
working
of the 1880s; some
the
of an operation
citizens believe that the pace of delivery
with little scope for dashing adventure
hasn't quickened much since his day.
but certainly greater speed, in keeping
But times are changing.
President
Nixon signed a bill providing
for re-
placement last month of the old-fashioned, tradition-encrusted
U.S.
Post
with the power of flight represented by the American eagle. One of the world's largest corporations, the service handles 85 thousand
Office Department with a new, modern
million pieces of mail a year. That sage
corporation,
elder statesman and inventor, Benjamin
also government-owned,
known as the U.S. Postal Service. At
Franklin, reformed the colonial service
right, flanked by present and former
and set up a new postal system during
U.S. Postmasters General-a
the American Revolution. He had per-
passes into history-the
title that
President dis-
plays the postal reform bill. Behind the
formed
a similar,
superb
task years
earlier, under the British Crown.
continued SPAN AUGUST
1971 37
Letters via wheel ¡ and wIng
:~;~:e the
be-
gan in 1775, the U.S. mail has
travelled
horse, stagecoach,
by ever swifter means:
railway, airplane.
Riders of the Pony
Express, loping day and night through Indian territory,
hostile American
lost their brief share of glory in popular
lore to the drivers of fast mail trains. In 1864, letters and parcels began to be sorted aboard trains. Free delivery of mail to urban homes and offices had started the previous year, while Rural Free Delivery dates from 1896. By 1918 planes were carrying the post. Air mail's most famous pilot was Charles A. Lindbergh,
who became in 1927 the first
man to fly solo across the Atlantic Ocean. A quote from Herodotus
inscribed
them all: "Neither
on many U.S. post offices honours snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom
of night stays these couriers from the swift completion
of
their appointed rounds."
Left. from top: A railway passenger carriage of the 1840s with a mail compartment under the middle seats; a rural mail carrier of 1899. driving a vehicle used on some unpaved roads till 1925; an early mail plane; and a delivery truck for parcel post, a service started in 1913. Below: This skiing mailman carried 36 kilograms about 1920.
JOf-il'lSlo,r./f'.( PA. J~,N1~' 1913
¡.. on his appointed rounds
The COIOSSUS h as a h eart
Detroit's highly auto-
mated
post
of-.
frce has two ma-
chines, each of which "reads" and sorts some 42,000 pieces of mail an hour. The new U.S. Postal Service hopes to achieve, throughout nation,
the pace of such machines.
the
Austere
as its new buildings may appear, they will continue to harbour a soft spot which shows up at Christmastime.
Then, flooded with thousands
of children's letters to Santa Claus, they break a rule and permit this mail to be opened-by charitable groups which fill requests made by the really needy.
END
In Detroit, the country's most highly 11lechanizedpost office. above, tests postal innovations. Below, clerks are almost swamped by pa:cels marked "Do not open until Christmas."
THISISTHESTORYof the Western Railway Employees Union (WREU), known and founded 50 years ago as the Bombay, Baroda and Central India (B.B. & c.r.) Railway Employees Union. It was in August 1920 that a handful of railway workers from the Loco and Carriage Workshop at Lower Parel in Bombay took the initiative to form a labour union, a thing practically unheard of in those days. It is not easy for men of the present generation-who are the happy inheritors of what those pioneers did under severe handicaps and strains-to perceive the "feel" of the 1920s. Going back to 1958, we see Umashankar Sharma, a typist who joined the Western Railway in 1956, working by the side of seasoned, kindly Ratilal Dave-the most senior typist, 58, and about to retire. Ratilalbhai, as he was affectionately called, joined the B.B. & c.r. Railway in 1919,in his 19th year, as a clerk. In the lunch room with his younger colleagues Ratilalbhai was often nostalgic about his early days in the railways. "Babies, you fellows are," he used to tell them affectionately, whenever some young firebrand made heroic statements on how he would like to change working conditions. Ratilalbhai would smile and tell them: "Cool down, my romantic young lads. Lasting improvements cannot be brought about by getting excited or angry. A lot of patience and tenacity of purpose along with good humour are required." Ratilalbhai thoughtfully started reminiscing. "Life was tough in those days. There were no norms, no standards. Getting a job was difficult because employment was considered to be a favour conferred on slaves by the masters. One had to be grateful for getting the job itself. A lot of influencing of the British bosses and their immediate subordinates had to be done. All sorts of behavioural guarantees had to be given. Nobody could go away from work when office hours were over. If the boss was in the department, everyone had to stay until he left. If he called you on a holiday, you had to come. And we had a 'princely' salary of Rs. 20 per month.
About the Author: Mr. Mohan Das is a wellknown labour consultant and columnist and a former representative in India of the AFL-CIO (American Federation of Labor and Congress of J ndustrial Organizations).
"Instead of making a song and dance about our problems, we decided to form a union. Workers of all categories got together. We approached a fine man, a retired railway official-Rai Saheb Chandrika Prasad-and asked him to become president of the union. He readily agreed, but as he himself did not know much about unions, he sought the help of two outsiders-a lawyer and a social worker. "The union did not frighten the railway bosses by blind opposition. It emphasized service to its own members-economic, social and educational. It provided such services as reading rooms, libraries, night classes and lectures. Emphasis was laid OJl. the union's non-political characterthat it was not responsible for the views of individual members."
Maniben Kara: "Formerly the union was run in a spirit of social service under the leadership of some intellectuals, but now it is run by educated, enthusiastic young labour men themselves." Ratilalbhai continued: "We felt our first obligation was towards our union. Sometimes we thought we could 'stand no nonsense any longer' and contemplated radical action, but in the end we exercised restraint in the interest of the union. We were aware that we could not afford a display of emotion, that discipline was called for.
"The union soon extended its activities to other centres of the railway. Gangmen demanding higher wages struck work. It was a clean strike-no bitterness, no abusive slogans; we just stopped working. After it was over, the workers got a pay rise. And because there was no violence or bitterness, there was no victimization, and management-labour relations were not adversely affected." Rati1a1bhai told his boys: "Go and find out about the union." Ratilalbhai's colleagues did just that, and found some very interesting things. They found that the union operated like a business organization: paid staff, regular salaries, and office premises. They found that when the Indian Trade Unions Act was enacted in the year 1926, their union was the fifth to be registered. While the earlier four unions had become defunct, No.5 survived. When the Western Railway was established by the amalgamation of the B.B. & c.r. Railway with other small railways in the princely states, the old union expanded its scope. The enthusiastic young colleagues of Ratilalbhai discovered that the union had sought and obtained recognition from the railway administration as early as May 1928. They found that apart from the strike, the union also sought constitutional resort through the Trade Disputes Act of 1929 by petitioning the GovernorGeneral. In other words, the union was quite tenacious abollt its business, choosing a variety of strategies and tactics depending on the conditions. It did not suffer from the romanticism of revolutionary sentimentalities. In the 1930s it was affected by the political tide sweeping the country-the struggle for independence. During the period 1930 to 1944, the once-active union went through almost total inertia. In 1945 the long-dormant union was revived under the leadership of Mr. G.D. Parikh and Miss Maniben Kara. Maniben, as she was popularly known, took over as president in 1946 and steered the union once again towards the road of industrial pragmatism, away from the barrenness of exclusively political involvement. Coinciding with the independence of India, the union geared itself to face developmental challenges and refashioned itself as an effective instrument of the workers. It faced many challenges on its "rebirth"declining membership, take-over of the Dohad workshop by extremist groups, formation of a rival union.
Maniben-a unique example of a woman from a very well-to-do family heading a union of railway workers-was able to inspire a band of dedicated young persons to accept all these challenges. With the nationalization and expansion of the B.B. & c.r. Railway into the Western in 1951, the union re-styled itself the Western Railway Employees Union and attempted to bring about unity with the nationalist-controlled Paschim Railway Mazdoor Sangh affiliated to the INTUC. Unfortunately this unity lasted only a brief two years. The union joined in the all-India strike of Central Government employees in 1960 and being perhaps the best-organized railway union, underwent the maximum sacrifices. Five workers were killed in the police firing in Dohad and more than 3,000 were arrested. The union was able to endure these trials and tribulations because it learnt quickly from mistakes and kept itself in trim as an organizational force. It re-established a good working relationship with the railway administration. The traumatic experience it had undergone made the union raise some fundamental questions when another Central Government employees' strike was organized in 1968. The union reviewed past performance and decided that a strike was not the correct strategy. It also for the first time raised the question whether industrial employees such as railwaymen should be treated as civil servants as was the case at present. In other words, the union had become a mature, strong "going concern," Ratilal's young colleagues found. The union completes its golden jubilee year this month with a membership of more than 60,000 workers and an annual revenue of Rs. 175,000. It runs many constructive schemes-workers' education, family planning programmes and cooperatives, besides the main business of representing employees' grievances to railway officials. Railway workers at Ajmer on the Western Railway had gone on a lightning strike protesting against the increase in the ration prices of wheat. Miss Kara broke off a vacation and rushed to Ajmer. The workers, who were always faithful to their beloved leader, called off the strike on Miss Kara's agreeing to take up the matter with the Food Minister at Delhi. Thus the dynamic personality of Maniben helped to resolve a very unhappy situation.
Worker-education classes for the rank-and-file as well as refresher courses for officeholders are among the many constructive schemes run by the Western Railway Union.
During a 1952 visit to the United States, Maniben studied the workings of the American labour movement, especially the Railway Brotherhoods. She was struck by the similarity of challenges faced by the railway workers of India and the United States in the pioneering days and how these challenges were met by pragmatic methods. The visit brought about extremely useful exchanges between leaders of a great union from India and of U.S. railway workers. This relationship has since blossomed forth into co-operation and fraternal associations through the International Transport Workers Federation and the International Confederation of Free Trade Unions. A consequence of such fraternal relations has been that Maniben could prepare for such modernization problems as dieselization, computerization and the redundancy question. The experiences of American railroad systems and the manner in which the Railway Brotherhoods grappled with these problems have been helpful to the Western Railway Employees Union. After half a century of defending the interests of Western Railway workers, the union is now on the threshold of a different set of developmental and modern-
ization problems. However, Miss Kara has developed a band of dedicated young union leaders with the necessary perspective to face such problems in the 1970s. These will call for a lot of understanding and adjustment instead of blanket protests. The Western Railway Employees Union and its leaders have developed enough maturity arising out of the 50 years' experience of the union to respond to these challenges. Maniben says: "I am very happy that WREU is celebrating its golden jubilee this year. And I am confident that with the leadership that has been built up, this union is quite competent to develop further and serve its members well. "This union has stressed the importance of trade-union education. And the real basis of its strength lies in the young cadre of workers spread over a large area of India. I have tried my best to impart trade-union education to the present leadership by conducting classes for the rankand-file, as well as refresher courses for union officials. "The general secretary, Mr. Purohit, is a very competent young man who has chosen his team of workers in eight divisions from railwaymen like ticket collectors, clerks, guards, etc. These railwaymen are full-time workers of the union and are conducting the union activities in a business-like manner." In a climate where fragmentation through politicalization has disrupted the trade-union movement, organizations like the Western Railway Employees Union stand as a monument of strength and selfreliance. END
Left, master craftsman Udyanath Das of Cuttack puts the finishing touches to his model of the Puri temple. An exquisite piece of silver filigree is the ancient chariot, below left, with its rearing horses. The richlycarvedfacade of the famous Konarak sun temple, below centre, still provides inspiration to Orissa's craftsmen. Below, the intricate white patterns often found on village huts resemble the delicate tracery of filigree work. Right, a filigree pendant.
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Handicraft Del-itage IN THE VILLAGES of Orissa, the huts are decorated with intricate white patterns, which stretch like a layer of lace across the brown mud walls. In the towns, the temples are covered with carvings, and the stone comes alive with the beauty of the sculpture. Hundreds of years ago, master masons raised these temples-Raja-Rani, Mukteshwar, Lingaraj, Jagannath, and the monumental grandeur of Konarak. And as the monasteries nurtured the arts in mediaeval Europe, so the temples have fostered the handicrafts of Orissa. Today, centuries later, artisans build replicas of the great religious shrines. The epic myths and legends still inspire folk painters. A temple frieze reappears as a sari border. And the lacy wall patterns are echoed in ornaments of silver filigree. Though Orissa has a wealth of handicrafts, it is best known for its filigree. In Cuttack, main centre for the craft, some 500 workers spin silver threads into objects of fragile beauty-jewellery of all kinds, as well as cigarette cases, handbags, Text continued on page 48
This gay beach umbrella, evolved from the traditional Pip/i canopy above it, might well be found today on the Riviera. In the village of Pip/i, above right, applique workers sit in groups, as each one sews on a c%ured patch of cloth. Right, students at the Orissa Government's Handicrafts Training and Design Centre in Bhubaneswar. Under skilled instructors, they are learning the art ofpatta chitras.
The simple articles once produced for the home or temple are finding their way into elegant stores abroad.
Though best known for their folk paintings, the artists of Raghurajpur also make the decorative wooden boxes shown above.
Golden grass mats are woven in a wide variety of colours and designs, right.' The use of chemical dyes, a recent innovation, does not dull the rr:ed's original lustre.
Many dying crafts and forgotten skills are being revived in Orissa today. picture frames and perfume containers. The filigree silversmith's work is incredibly delicate. The metal is drawn into fine wires and foils; the inner texture is woven and set inside a frame; then the whole piece is placed on a mica sheet and soldered. The art of filigree is believed to have come to Orissa about 1,000 years ago. Its local name is tarkasi-a Persian word, which provides clues to its origin and explains the presence of its many Mogul motifs and designs. Over the years, as it has grown and developed in Orissa, filigree has acquired a vocabulary of its own. Thus the frame is called sika; the tiny decorative balls are known as rua; and other basic repetitive forms are dui which resembles the Oriya digit 2, and dhakei, the Oriya digit 7. Overall patterns are calledferferua, a ripple-like J
Brightly-painted wooden images of Balabhadra, Subhadra and Jagannath, Lord of the Universe, are produced in Puri in many different sizes. arrangement; chakri made up of diminishing circles; and janjira or lattice-work. The various types of filigree are best seen in the enormous workshop of the Kalinga Co-operative Silver Filigree Works, set up by the Orissa State Government in 1963. The factory, in which more than 200 silversmiths work under one roof, is perhaps the largest jewellery workshop in the world. The co-operative was started not only to ensure quality, but also with an eye to filigree's export potential. For years Orissa's silver filigree has had an assured market overseas, holding its own against similar jewellery made in Italy, Portugal, Spain and Mexico. At present it earns Rs. 15 lakhs in foreign exchange each J
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Everywhere in Orissa, the phenomenon year, one-third of which comes from the recurs-that of tradition adapting to United States. change. In Gadanathupur village, for inAs with filigree, there has been a resurstance, the women used to weave large gence in Orissa's other handicrafts, which round platters of reed as offerings to the together account for another Rs. 15 lakhs moon god. The reed grows in swampy in foreign exchange. And the simple, unareas during the monsoon. It is cut when sophisticated articles once prod uced for half-dry, then exposed to the night dew the home or temple are finding their way and the early morning sun. This gives it into elegant stores abroad. One example the special lustre that has earned it the is the applique work of Pipli. name "golden grass." Today the women The village of Pipli lies along the main of Gadanathupur weave place mats and route from Bhubaneswar to Konarak. In decorative baskets from this grass. And shops on either side of the road sit groups the moon god is being eclipsed by the of men, half-buried in vast swirls of cloth, demands of the marketplace. as each sews his own little brightly-colourIn catering to the needs of modern lived patch of red or blue or yellow. Not long ing, Orissa's artisans are helped by the Allago the people of Pipli made canopies and India Handicrafts Board, which conducts shamianas for religious ceremonies, mainly training centres in the state. In Bhubanesfor the famous rath festival at Puri. Today war, the Orissa Government's Industries the traditional canopies have been transDepartment runs the State Handicrafts formed into fashionable beach and garden Training and Design Centre, where master umbrellas. craftsmen teach young boys the secrets The Jagannath temple in Puri also guided the fortunes of nearby Raghurajpur, a of their skill. Many of the old forgotten crafts have been revived in this way. hamlet settled by hereditary painters. CusTake the flexible brass fish of Ganjam, tom decreed that all pilgrims to Puri should a stylized, intricately-jointed fish that could take back with them: five sticks of cane, formerly be made by only six men in Orissa. five necklaces of tulsi beads, five small bags Today their number has more than douof rice, and five paffa chitras or folk paintbled. Another dying craft was the making ings. These were supplied by the painters of lacquered dowry boxes by young girls of Raghurajpur who make their own "canin the backyards of Nowrangpur. These vas" from cloth stiffened with tamarind were unknown even in India until an Orissa glue and chalk powder and who use the handicrafts exhibition was held in Delhi old earth and stone colours; white is obin 1964; and they were a big success when tained by grinding conch shells. As in the they were taken to the New York World's past, the painters depict the major gods Fair the following year. in the Hindu pantheon, familiar episodes The example of Nowrangpur's dowry in the Radha-Krishna legend, and of course boxes is repeated throughout Orissathe chief deity of the Puri temple-Jagannath, Lord of the Universe. The only difwith the horn birds and animals of Parlakemedi, the clay toys of Barpali, the ference is that the pilgrims are being redhokra metal craft of Mayurbhanj, the placed by sophisticated shoppers swept up by the current preoccupation with folk art. lacquer ware of Balasore. The temples are no longer the main supNot far from the Jagannath temple there port of Orissa's handicrafts, which are is an area in Puri known as Pathuriasahiknown and admired over a far wider area. the stone-carvers' village. Here the houses Today the skills in danger of being forare crowded along narrow winding alleys, gotten, the crafts that faced extinction, the and in the porches of most are the carvers, bent over stone or marble. Descendants of designs that seemed destined to fade away -all these are being preserved and cherishthe men who built Konarak and Lingaraj, ed. It is as though the craftsmen of Orissa these carvers have retained all the old mashave come into their rightful inheritance. tery over their material. Many of the figures they carve are copies of those that adorn the temple walls. But they are also making Final stage in the filigree worker's craft bowls and plates, polished to a rich sheen, comes when the piece is being soldered. The flame is directed by means of a blowpipe. and cool and smooth to the touch. END