SPAN: December 1964

THEODORE

ELIHU

ROOSEVELT

1906

CORDELL

ROOT

WOODROW

1912

HULL

JOHN

1945

SPAN

RALEIGH

MOTT

jointly

with

EMILY

GREENE

1946

OF

1964 Nobel Peace Prize to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., social reformer and Negro American leader, highlights his services to the cause of human rights. One of the youngest recipients of the award, Dr. King at thirty-five is the fourteenth American and the second Negro American chosen for this honour. While the Nobel Committee, conforming to normal practice, did not give a reason for its choice, it is understood that the award recognizes Dr. King's efforts to extend the civil rights of Negro Americans, and his enlightened leadership of the racial integration movement in the U.S. Earlier this year the U.S. Congress passed a new Civil Rights Act which Dr. King and HE AWARD OF THE

T

WILSON

CHARLES

DAWES

FRANK

1925

1919

BALCH

RALPH

JOHNSON

KELLOGG

1929

BUNCHE

1950

GEORGE

MARSHALL

1953

EVENTS other Negro leaders had urged. A staunch proponent of the Gandhian philosophy and technique of non-violence, Dr. King has consistently preached and practised satyagraha as the most effective method of resisting and redressing the social evils of racial prejudice and segregation.

President Theodore Roosevelt, who was a successful mediator of the Russo-Japanese War of 1904-05 and helped restore peace in the Far East, was the first American to receive the Nobel Peace Prize. In his acceptance address before the Nobel Prize Committee, he suggested that there should be an association of countries to enforce world peace whenever it was threatened, thus anticipating by

CONTENTS FOR DECEMBER 1964 VOLUME

V

CHRISTMAS IN THE WHITE HOUSE

by Fletcher Knebel NICHOLAS MURRAY BUTLER jointly with JANE ADDAMS 1931

SOLVING THE PROBLEMS OF SUPERSONIC TRANSPORTATION

by R. L. Bisplinghojf

TARAPUR ATOMIC POWER PROJECT: PROGRESS REPORT A VISIT FROM ST. NICHOLAS

by Clement

C. Moore

THE ERA OF RADICAL CHANGE

by Max

Ways

THE EXPLOSION· OF POP ART

by A line B. Saarinen

THE TURBAN RETURNS FIFTEEN HOURS OF TIGER WATCHING

by Philip Gould

NEW KNOWLEDGE

FOR PUNJAB FARMERS

by Austen Nazareth FRONT COVER: Framed by columns of the White House in Washington, LINUS PAULING

MARTIN LUTHER KING

1962

1964

Leaders for

Peace

several years the formation of the League of Nations and its successor, the United Nations.

Woodrow Wilson, noted for his passionate advocacy of peace and the chief sponsor of the League of Nations, was the second American President to receive the Nobel Peace award. In recent times, Dr. Ralph Bunche, another distinguished Negro American and U.N. Under Secretary for Special Political Affairs, won the award in recognition of his efforts for peace in Palestine while George Marshall was honoured for his role in the economic rehabilitation of Europe. All fourteen American winners of the Nobel Peace Prize are shown ahove.

D.C., the National Community Christmas Tree stands near Washington Monument during the holiday season. Photograph courtesy Look. See page 2.

BACK COVER: The spirit of Christmas is the spirit of childhood. Children enjoy surprises in gaily-wrapped gifts found under the tree on Christmas morning. See page 17for a favourite poem, "A Visit from St. Nicholas."

EDITORIALSTAFF: Lokenath Bhattacharya, K. G. Gabrani, Avinash Pasricha, Nirmal Kumar Sharma. ART STAFF: B. Roy Choudhury, Nand K. Katyal.

PHOTOGRAPHICSERVICES:USIS Photo Lab. Production Manager: Awtar S. Alanvaha. Published by United States Information Service, Bahawalpur House, Sikandra Road, New Delhi-I, 011 behalf of The American Embassy, New Delhi. Printed by Arun K. Mehta at Vakil & Sons Private Ltd., Narandas Building, Sprott Road, 18 Ballard Estate, Bombay-I. Pages 21 to 28 printed by offset at G. Claridge & Co .. Caxtoll Works, Frere Road, Bombay-I. Subscription rates for SPAN: One year, Rs. 4; two years, Rs. 7. Address subscriptions, including remittance to nearest regional distributor. NEW DELHI, Patrika Syndicate (Pvt.) Ltd., Gole Market; BOMBAY,Lalvani Brothers, Dr. Dadabhai Naoroji Road; MADRAS, The Swadesamitran Ltd., V1ctory House, Mount Road; CALCUTTA,Patrika Syndicate (Pvt.) Ltd., 12/1 Lindsay Street. Subscriptions are not accepted from outside India. • 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. SPAN encourages use of its articles in other publications except where copyrighted. For details, WTite to the Editor, SPAN.• In case of change of address, cut out old address from a recent SPAN envelope and forward along with new address to A. K. Mitra, Circulation Manager.

Please allow six weeks for change of address to become effective. •

RIST IN THE WHITE I

NITS 164 YEARS OF EXISTENCE, the White House has been the nation's symbol of the festive spirit of Christmas, always gaily decorated, usually offering a holiday dinner for the first family and sometimes sparkling with snow. Like millions of other homes in America, the White House salutes the Nativity of Christ with customs borrowed from almost all the European nations and with rituals that were already ancient long before the printed word.

In the last century, it was rare for a President to spend Christmas Day away from the White House, but in the twentieth century, with its accelerated travel, the Christmas away from the White House has become more common. Presidents in the last fifty-one years have spent thirty-five Christmases in the White House, sixteen of them elsewhere.

Regardless of the President's whereabouts, formal Christmas customs at the White House expand with the years. Calvin Coolidge, in 1924, inaugurated the practice of lighting a spruce on the back lawn of the White House as a national community Christmas tree. For thirty years, Presidents carried on the tradition, usually speaking via radio on Christmas Eve on a theme of world peace after lighting the decorated tree.

Hundreds watched the ceremony on the back lawn.

In 1954, the ceremony widened into an annual Pageant of Peace, with the erection of a huge, expensively decorated Christmas tree on the Ellipse, the playing field between the White House and the Washington Monument. President Dwight D.

Fletcher Knebel, veteran Washington correspondent, is a member 0/ Look magazine's Washington bureau. This article is reprinted/rom Look and Š 1963 by Cowles Magazines and Broadcasting, Inc.

HOUSE

Eisenhower threw the switch lighting the first Ellipse tree, and President Kennedy continued the custom. Each year, a different State donates the tree. In 1962, it was a sixty-five-foot blue spruce from Colorado; last year the tree came from West Virginia.

Preparations begin in early October, when Rudolph Bartel, an official of the National Park Service, visits the contributing State and helps select the tree. It must be about seventy feet high-five feet of which get buried in the earth. The tree travels to Washington on a railroad flatcar and sometimes has to be hidden in the yards for days. Local utilities foot the bill for transporting, trimming and lighting.

Decorations at the White House itself have become more ornate with the decades. They reached a peak in 1959 under President Eisenhower, when no less than twenty-six Christmas trees were counted in and about the mansion.

Early White House Christmases lacked the central feature of today's celebration, the tree. The custom of lighting and decorating trees originated in Germany and spread slowly to other countries. It was 1841 before Britain's Queen Victoria had the first Christmas tree in Windsor Castle.

Just when the first Christmas tree appeared in the White House is uncertain. Co!. W. H. Crook, White House paymaster for more than forty years in the post-Civil War era, contends that "the first Christmas tree that ever lifted up its gift-laden green in the White House" appeared there in 1889, the first year of Benjamin Harrison's occupancy. In his book, Memories 0/ the White House, Crook said he had "never been able to understand" why Presidents Lincoln, Johnson, Grant, Hayes, Garfield, Continued on page 4

Arthur and Cleveland-with all of whom Crook served-failed to put up a tree. (Cleveland did have Christmas trees during his second term, which began in 1893.)

The Christmas tree became an annual White House fixture, except in the early part of Theodore Roosevelt's reign. TR, a crusader for the protection of American flora and fauna, deplored the custom of chopping down millions of spruce, fir and pine trees at Christmas-time. He refused to place one in the White House. One Christmas, during this period, his son Archie unveiled a tree that he had smuggled into a sewing room and trimmed behind a locked door. Later, Gifford Pinchot, the apostle of conservation, convinced Teddy that the natural growth of forests was not harmed by cutting trees in densely wooded areas.

President John Adams and his wife Abigail moved into the new President's Palace, as it was then called, in the fall of 1800. Abigail found the lonely edifice in an open meadow gaunt and forbidding. She burned twenty cords of wood in an effort to dry out the damp walls for a Christmas Day reception for members of Congress. But the house remained cold, and the guests, shivering in their coats, stayed only briefly.

Even a Christmas party for the Adamses' grand-daughter Susanna produced less than unrestrained merriment. One guest broke a saucer of Susanna's new tea set, and Susanna retaliated by biting off the nose of a wax doll belonging to the offender.

The Adamses' New Year's Day reception in the new house went better. The place was dry and warm by January 1, 1801.

Mrs. Adams received in brocade and velvet, while the President wore the elaborate gentleman's costume of the period: knee breeches, coloured waistcoat and high stock collar. His powdered hair was worn in a netted 'queue.

The New Year's reception became the highlight of the White House holiday season. Although it has been discontinued in modern times, this annual event once afforded any American the chance to go to the White House and shake the hand of the President. On New Year's Day, 1865, hundreds of freed Negroes stood on the White House lawn while, inside, white visitors filed past President Abraham Lincoln. When the President heard about the Negroes, he asked them in, and they trooped past to shake his hand and lavish blessings on the man they called "Uncle Abraham." Theodore Roosevelt is believed to hold the New Year's Day record. He shook hands with 8,513 visitors at the 1907 White House levee.

Christmas did not have the same hold on the youthful United States in its early history that it did later. In early New England, celebrations were forbidden by law because the Puritans were offended by the pagan origin of many Christmas customs. In 1836, Alabama became the first State to make Christmas a legal holiday. But by the time Andrew Jackson became President, some Christmas traditions had developed, including the use of mistletoe. On Christmas night, 1835, Vice President Martin Van Buren stood under the mistletoe in the White House while a circle of youngsters danced about him.

Having lost in a game of forfeits, he was forced to chant: "Here I stand all ragged and dirty. If you don't kiss me, I'll run like a turkey."

Old Hickory, known for his unbending will and towering rages, always dissolved into the kindly grandfather on Christmas Eve. The excited children hung their stockings from the mantel in his bedroom, then poured in at daybreak, only to find that

the President was up and ready for them, with a crackling fire burning.

The exchange of gifts took place upstairs in the mansion.

On this Christmas, the President got a corncob pipe, a tobacco pouch and slippers, while the children opened boxes that contained guns, saddles and hobbyhorses for the boys, dolls, tea sets and toy cookstoves for the girls. In the public rooms downstairs, flowers, wreaths and evergreens covered the furniture, and fires blazed at every hearth. The mistletoe hung from the East Room chandelier.

The death of President Kennedy in 1963 was not the first Presidential Christmas marked by sorrow and tragedy. Scarlet fever struck on Christmas Eve, 1892. A grand-daughter of President Harrison was quarantined in an upstairs White House room with the disease. It was a bleak Christmas for Harrison, whose wife Caroline had died in the mansion that fall.

A fire robbed President and Dolley Madison of their last three Christmases in the White House. The British burned the place in August, 1814, during the War of 1812, after the Madisons had fled. Not until 1817 did the White House hold another Christmas celebration. This time, the celebrants were the new occupants, President James Monroe and his wife.

Warren Harding's first Christmas morning in the White House in 1921 was marred by a violent quarrel with his wife, according to one biographer, and he had to call one of his cronies, Charles R. Forbes, over to comfort him. Harding's brief White House tenure was ill-starred. Visitor Forbes later was one of those who went to jail in the tangled scandals of the Harding Administration.

As though President Herbert Hoover didn't have enough trouble with the stock-market crash of 1929, the White House executive offices were gutted by a Christmas Eve fire that year.

Hoover left the dinner table to watch the flames, then called his grandchildren to see the fire after it had been brought under control.

The wildest Presidential Christmas occurred in 1945, Harry Truman's first year as President. He flew from Washington to Missouri to spend the holiday with his family in Independence.

Four hours late in leaving because of foul weather, the "Sacred Cow" transport took off in deep slush. A sleet storm forced the pilot to remain on instruments throughout the six-hour flight; all the way, the de-icing equipment tossed chunks of ice against the fuselage. But Truman made it home to Missouri safely.

War often lent harsh overtones to White House Christmas celebrations. On Christmas Eve, 1864, President Lincoln received a message from Gen. William T. Sherman, whose Union army had cut a swath of ruin across the Confederate State of Georgia, from Atlanta to the sea. "I beg to present you as a Christmas gift," wrote Sherman, "the city of Savannah, with one hundred and fifty guns and plenty of ammunition, also about twenty-five thousand bales of cotton."

Wrote Lincoln to Shernlan on the day after Christmas: "Many many thanks for your Christmas gift, the capture of Savannah."

Eight decades later, with the nation united after the Japanese bombing of Pearl Harbour, President Franklin D. Roosevelt and Continued on page 6 Seen/rom top 0/ Washington Monument, the National Community Tree glows with light on snow-covered lawn near White House.

British Prime Minister Winston Churchill spent most of Christmas Day, 1941, conferring on Allied strategy against the Axis powers. Churchill flew across the Atlantic that December and spent two weeks in White House talks.

Both men addressed the world by radio from the South Portico on Christmas Eve, during the ceremonial lighting of the White House Christmas tree. Thousands of Government officials and their families stood on the South Lawn in the twilight and heard the rich, throaty cadences of Churchill as he pledged victory. Then he turned, characteristically, to the joys of Christmas. "Let the children have their night of fun and laughter," he said. "Let the gifts of Father Christmas delight their hearts.

Let us share in their unstinted pleasure before we turn again to the stem tasks in the year that lies before us."

But most White House Christmases have marked the days of peace as first families revelled in the joy of children, visits of close friends, the exchange of gifts and bounteous feasts, usually topped by a huge gift turkey. Each Presidential family had its own customs.

Dolley Madison served a White House Christmas feast on a huge mirror that held turkey, chicken, canvasback duck, other wild game and puddings. President James K. Polk used to receive guests on Christmas Eve as he stood before a roaring fire.

Mrs. Polk wore a red or maroon dress at Christmas-time.

Little Tad Lincoln once appeared at the White House with a crowd of hungry street urchins. The cook wanted to shoo them away, but President Lincoln invited them all in to eat.

One of the most unusual auxiliary features of a White House Christmas season occurred in 1877, President Rutherford B. Hayes's first year in the mansion. On December 30, Hayes and his wife Lucy re-enacted their wedding as part of a silver-anniversary celebration. Mrs. Hayes wore her white-silk wedding dress, and the pastor who had performed the original ceremony

In study crammed with tree and gifts. President Johnson worked on State papers during 1963 Christmas at ranch home in Texas.

was on hand to do the honours again. Most of the friends who had attended the Hayeses' wedding in Ohio twenty-five years before also witnessed the sentimental White House event.

One Christmas, Teddy Roosevelt watched three of his four sons chasing a turkey with hatchets on the south White House lawn. President Woodrow Wilson and his second wife used to distribute toys on Christmas Day to children who lived along the route to a Virginia country club. These were the children who waved to the Wilsons when they drove out to play golf.

Calvin Coolidge used to begin Christmas Day with a 7 a.m. walk. The Herbert Hoovers delighted in carols, often sung by Girl Scouts, and Mrs. Hoover would lead a parade of carolchanting children through the darkened White House, each child holding a candle to light his way. The President twice had a real live Santa Oaus (his secretary) come through a White House window for the Hoover grandchildren. Mrs. Mamie Eisenhower customarily wore a holly-red dress at Christmas as she presided over the family frolics with the grandchildren.

But the White House Christmas reached a peak of warmth and conviviality in the administration of Franklin D. Roosevelt, the only President to be elected four times. Roosevelt spent eleven of his twelve Presidential Christmases in the White House, surrounded by children, grandchildren and, until her death, his mother. The Roosevelt White House Christmas was a three-day production, customarily including a party for the office staff, another for the domestic help, a dance for the college set, a romp with the grandchildren, lighting of the community Christmas tree, and old-fashioned family dinner and hearty Christmas-night visits by political friends.

Throughout this turbulent holiday period, Mrs. Eleanor Roosevelt would dart in and out of the White House on a whirlwind of charitable Christmas missions. Mrs. Roosevelt began her Christmas planning in late summer. Everywhere she went on her travels, she bought individual gifts for members of the White House staff and stored them in a locked room. The kitchen staff began Christmas baking early in December, making as many as 150 fruitcakes for friends of the Roosevelts.

Mrs. Roosevelt wrote all her own cards and sometimes wrapped Christmas gifts until two in the moming.

The Roosevelt family had two unique customs. Adults as well as children were required to hang stockings in FDR's bedroom, and Mrs. Roosevelt packed the adult stockings with such reminders of cleanliness as toothbrushes, combs, fingernail files and soap. The highlight of the family Christmas was the President's annual reading of Charles Dickens's A Christnuu Carol. FDR took all parts in a one-man dramatic show, changing his inflection for Scrooge, Mrs. Cratchit and Tiny Tim. "Father was the meanest Scrooge you ever heard," recalls U.S. Representative James Roosevelt, now a Congressman of California. No family saluted Christmas with more boisterous spirits than the Roosevelts, and yet the President never forgot that the holiday celebrated the birth of Christ. The Roosevelts went to church each Christmas morning.

Not all Presidents were fortunate enough to have their own children or grandchildren about at Christmas-time in the White House, but almost all managed to have children-those of friends or relatives-present on Christmas Day. For the Presidents of the United States, the spirit of Christmas has always been the spirit of childhood. •

The designs at left are being considered for a transport plane to fly three times the speed of sound, in a uni.que association of government and private industry.

SOLVING THE PROBLEMS OF SUPERSONIC TRANSPORTATION OCTOBER 17, 1947, Captain CharlesE. Yeager flew the rocketpowered research aircraft X-I slightly faster than the speed of sound.

That event was the culmination of an intense period of aeronautical research and development which took place during and after World War II. It marked the beginning of a new epoch in powered flight: the supersonic airplane became a practical reality.

In the seventeen years since the flight of the X-I, aeronautical engineers have

O

Mr. Bisplinghoff is associate administrator for advanced research and technology, National Aeronautics and Space Administration. The article is condensed with permission from Scientific American. All rights reserved. © 1964 by Scientific American, Inc.

almost continuously examined the practicability of commercial aircraft that would fly faster than the speed of sound, or mor~·than 750 miles per hour. And since the successful operation of such highspeed (up to 650 mph) subsonic jet transports as the Boeing 707 and the Douglas DC-8, interest in the supersonic transport (SST) has soared.

This interest reflects the traditional evolution of air transportation towards higher cruising speeds. There now appears to be no valid technical or economic reason why the trend should not continue well into the range of supersonic speeds.

But in such a vast and expensive undertaking as supersonic air transportation, technical questions cannot be separated entirely from political and economic considerations. Research and development costs are estimated at 1 billion or

Rs. 475 crores and production models of the plane 25 million or Rs. 12 crores.

The SST has been· the object of considerable public debate in the U.S., and that debate promises to become even more intense. It is proper, of course, that such an undertaking should be questioned and debated, and that its usefulness to, and effects on, society should be assessed fully.

There are several legitimate questions which can be asked: What should be the relative roles of the government and the aviation industry in developing a suitable aircraft?

At what speed should the designers aim?

Is the technology available to build an airplane that would be both safe and profitable?

These and many similar questions Continued on next page

The advanced technology necessary to build a supersonic passenger-carrying plane must take into account the vitally important factors of safety, durability and economy of operation. have been raised in the debate, and while the debate goes on in government, industry and among private citizens, engineers have continued to explore the feasibility of supersonic aircraft.

Since Captain Yeager's flight in the X-I, a variety of aircraft, including the record-holding X-15 (4,104 mph) and, the military YF-12A, formerly designated A-II, (more than 2,000 mph) have made supersonic flight seem almost routine.

The largest supersonic aircraft yet designed, the 2,000-mph B-70, is now undergoing flight tests.

It remained for the British and French, however, to make the first commitment to build an SST for commercial service.

Their Concorde is an aluminium aircraft designed to carry 118 passengers in the 1,300-mph range.

In the U.S. the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) has for several years conducted a programme of research directed specifically towards a supersonic commercial transport. The programme was inaugurated in 1956 by the National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics, predecessor of NASA. In 1959 the research had developed enough data to indicate the technical feasibility of an SST. On December 11,1959, NASA brought this information to the attention of the Federal Aviation Agency and proposed a national programme for the development of such a vehicle.

Once the technical feasibility of an SST had been established in a preliminary way, NASA concentrated its efforts on meeting some difficult requirements.

These included the development of the technology of engines and airframes that would be more economical and durable than those acceptable for military service and reduction of sonic boom, the glassshattering explosion that accompanies an aircraft's break through the sound barrier, and which threatened to curtail supersonic flight over populous areas. NASA's progress in solving these problems played an important part in the decision, announced by President Kennedy in June, 1963, that the U.S. would begin development of a supersonic transport. Recently several aircraft and engine manufacturers submitted design proposals to the Federal Aviation Agency, and it is expected that the first contracts for deve-

lopment types will be awarded soon.

The particular concern of NASA is the development of the advanced technology necessary to build a passenger-carrying plane that is not only capable of supersonic speeds, but also safe, durable and economical to operate. As a guide to manufacturers, NASA has specified a Mach-3 aircraft, a plane able to fly at speeds up to three times the speed of sound. At an altitude of 70,000 feet, where the craft will actually cruise, Mach-3 is about 2,000 mph. The aircraft will have a takeoff weight of about 400,000 pounds and should be able to carry a payload of some 26,000 pounds over a range of 3,700 miles. For comparison, the longest-range model of the Boeing 707 has a takeoff weight of 316,000 pounds, a payload of 59,000 pounds and a range of more than 4,500 miles. And it is expected that the SST will operate from existing runways.

The design of every airplane makes use of a principle laid down some sixty years ago by the French engineer Louis Breguet.

Breguet showed that the range of an airplane-the maximum distance it can travel-depends on two main factors: flight efficiency, and the ratio of fuel weight to the gross weight at the start of flight.

Flight efficiency is a composite of the aerodynamic and propulsive efficiencies of the airplane and its three important components are speed or Mach number, lift-drag ratio and fuel consumption. If everything else remains the same, flight efficiency increases with Mach number, and that is the main reason why engineers prefer speeds approaching Mach-3three times the speed of sound-for the SST. Far higher speeds are theoretically attainable, but for the present, Mach-3 seems a reasonable upper limit for commercial flight because of the problems that higher speeds would present in overheating of materials and fuel.

Lift is the upward force provided by the flow of air over the surfaces of the aircraft and drag is the total resistance it encounters in driving through the air.

To get the optimum lift-drag ratio under varying conditions of takeoff, flight and landing, engineers have experimented with such devices as swept-back wings, auxiliary wings which can be moved

forward for flight at subsonic speeds, and other types of wings which can be varied in sweep.

The third factor in Breguet's equation of flight efficiency is specific fuel consumption, which means the weight in pounds of fuel burned per hour for each pound of engine thrust. To obtain good specific fuel consumption over the whole range of operating conditions from subsonic to supersonic speed, the engine designer is faced with incompatible flight conditions. At subsonic speeds thrust is produced most efficiently by moving a large volume of air at fairly low velocity; at supersonic speeds it is more efficient to produce the same thrust by moving a smaller volume of air at higher velocity.

The engine which resolves this dilemma does not now exist, and its development will take much time and effort. The engine will demand, for example, higher turbineinlet temperatures than those employed in present engines. NASA's best informed workers are confident, however, that these desirable combinations can be achieved through additional well-planned research and careful design.

As Breguet pointed out, flight efficiency is not the whole story in the achievement of range. In order to extend range a designer must also strive for a high ratio of fuel load to gross weight at the beginning of the flight. This is tantamount to saying that for a given fuel load and a payload of passengers and baggage he must reduce the structural weight as much as possible. That has been a perennial problem of the engineer from the earliest days of aviation. William B. Stout, who designed the famous Ford trimotor transport in the late 1920s liked to say that the aircraft engineer's main task in life was to "simplicate and add lightness." His advice is no less important today than it was then.

The special structural design problems introduced by the supersonic transport can be summarized succinctly as speed and longevity. The principal problem introduced by speed is aerodynamic heating, produced by the impact and friction of air molecules. At Mach-3 and an altitude of 70,000 feet the leading edge of the wing is heated to a temperature of some 550 degrees Fahrenheit. This is well Continued

on page 10

Since Captain Charles Yeager's first supersonic flight in 1947 with the X-1, a variety of aircraft, including the X-15, above, and the military YF-12A, below, have rnade supersonic flight seem almost routine. The X-15 set world record for aircraft with speed of 4,104 mph.

The new problem of "sonic boom" will have a major influence on airplane design. Also economic success or failure may depend on small differences in efficiency of component parts. beyond the temperature at which the usual materials of commercial airliner construction retain adequate strength.

The problem of longevity is one of providing adequate airframe safety and serviceability for a period longer than ten years, or some 30,000 to 50,000 hours of flying time. A lifetime of this order is essential if the airplane is to be commercially profitable. As the aircraft structure is exposed to alternating stresses day after day and year after year, there is a tendency for the metal to become fatigued and ultimately to fracture. Metal fatigue is a progressive phenomenon originating with tiny cracks that gradually grow under repeated stress until a fracture occurs. Designers can expect crack growth to be accelerated in structures exposed to the high temperatures of supersonic flight.

Prolonged screening by NASA's laboratories has identified a titanium alloy that appears to meet the unique and stringent requirements for strength, stiffness and high temperatures of an SST. The alloy contains ninety per cent titanium, eight per cent aluminium, one per cent molybdenum and one per cent vanadium.

Tests have shown that the titanium alloy has appreciably greater tensile strength at high temperatures than the conventional aluminium alloys used in transport aircraft. It is also superior in this respect to typical steels that possess relatively good high-temperature characteristics. Titanium, however, will produce a higher ratio of structural weight to gross weight than' aluminium, at least in the present state of technology and pose another problem. To put it another way, the problem is that the estimated ratio of payload to gross weight for the SST as now envisioned is approximately eight per cent compared with about fifteen per cent for the subsonic jet of comparable range. But engineers are confident that this problem too can be reduced by additional research.

One of the most widely discussed problems facing the designer of the supersonic transport is sonic boom. Shock-wave phenomena were explained theoretically by the Austrian physicist and philosopher Ernst Mach a half-century before the first sonic boom was heard. Mach arrived at his explanation by considering the laws

of propagation of a disturbance or pressure impulse in a compressible fluid, In air the pressure disturbance we recognize as sound establishes the speed at which sound travels. Therefore an airplane moving at subsonic speed creates fairly mild pressure disturbances that move faster than the plane itself. A supersonic plane, however, gets ahead of its own pressure disturbances; they stream out behind in the form of a shock wave that creates a sudden change of pressure as it reaches any particular point.

The term "sonic boom" is used to describe the atmospheric disturbance produced when the shock wave from the supersonic plane sweeps over the surface of the ground. When a heavy aircraft flies at supersonic speed near the ground, the sonic boom is usually heard as a sharp report. When the sonic boom is produced by an aircraft of modest weight at high altitudes, the effect is more like that of distant thunder.

To minimize the annoyance of sonic boom, the supersonic transport will not be permitted the wide choice in altitude and speed pattern now enjoyed by today's commercial aircraft. In order to prevent any sonic boom while it is at low altitudes, the supersonic airplane will be required to climb subsonically to at least 40,000 feet before it accelerates to supersonic speed. For the same reason it must decelerate at the end of its trip so that subsonic flight is resumed before the aircraft descends below 40,000 feet.

As man penetrates the earth's protective atmospheric blanket and exposes himself to conditions on the fringes of space, careful consideration must be given to his health and well-being, Such considerations are of major importance in the nation's space programme, and similar attention must be given to the transportation of passengers at altitudes above 70,000 feet. It now appears that, except for the conditions associated with solar flares, such environmental factors as radiation and ozone contamination of the atmosphere will not pose significant health hazards.

Supersonic aircraft up to the present time have been developed to meet military objectives which naturally place a high premium on performance and mission accomplishment, and a somewhat lower

premium on cost of operation, In the highly competitive air transportation market the new transport must achieve economical operation-that is, operation at costs comparable to those of present transports, It is not entirely justifiable, however, to compare the supersonic transport with its subsonic predecessor solely on the basis of seat-mile cost. There is also the very important possibility that the significant speed increase will yield an increase in airplane "productivity," measured in passenger-miles over a given period of time. The productivity of the subsonic jet is significantly higher than that of its piston predecessor, and there are some grounds for believing that the Mach-3 transport's productivity will be higher than that of the subsonic jet. But a true measurement of this quantity is extremely difficult to obtain in advance, Although it is not possible in a single article to discuss all aspects of the SST, I have attempted to show that it is technically feasible. But it should also be clear from my discussion that today's technology is not advanced enough to build an airplane of this type that would be economically attractive to the airlines.

More refinement is needed.

The venerable factors of lift, drag and thrust are still the controlling elements in airplane design, We are faced, however, with the new and highly important factor of sonic boom with its major influence on airplane weight and configuration. In addition, more than ever before the economic success or failure of a proposed airplane is dependent on small differences in the efficiency of component parts. For example, our studies of propulsion for SST show that the performance of inlet and exhaust nozzles is of crucial importance, An improvement of one per cent in the gross thrust co-efficient of a nozzle could permit a reduction of about five per cent in the gross weight of the airplane for a given payload. Such improvements, which typify the technological advances required for supersonic commercial air transport, are within the grasp of a well-organized programme of research and development making maximum use of the nation's industrial, university and governmental resources.

Continued on page 12

SST: SOLVING

THE MONEY PROBLEM

To finance development, government and industry should go into balanced partnership.

The colossal capital of the supersonic transport

outlay

required for

development

airplane raises special financial

and economic problems. In thefollowing excerptfrom view, reprinted by permission from

U.S.

an inter-

ews & World

Report and Š 1963 by U.S. News & World Report Inc., Najeeb Elias Halaby, Agency,

head of the U.S. Federal Aviation

indicates how this unique project

will be financed.

QUESTION: Just how is the SST going to be financed and produced?

ANSWER: We're embarked here on a completely unique thing. The most interesting thing is how do Government and private business go into a partnership that's in the public interest, because, really, here we have three different legs, if you wishor may be "wheels" would be a better metaphor-supporting this airplane.

The first wheel is the taxpayer. The second is the stockholder of the manufacturer and the airline. And the third is the traveller, through patronizing the airline and paying fares.

If you want to greatly oversimplify it, the Government has the taxpayer's money, the manufacturer and the airline have the stockholder's money, and the airline must receive the traveller's money to remain in business.

Now, what we need to do is to get these in the right balance, and the President proposed that 3 of taxpayer money be advanced for I of manufacturer's stockholder money, and that the entire amount be recovered to the manufacturer and the Government from the traveller through the airline.

This SST wind tunnel model has movable wings to reduce speed during takeoff and landing. Wing is retracted for supersonic cruising.

Q. Why should the taxpayer get into the act at all?

A. The answer is a very simple one. The cost of this airplane is so high that the manufacturers cannot afford to put up the entire investment.

Q. Why is that, if they can be sure of receiving their money out of what the travellers are going to pay?

A. Let me show you why: The DC-6 cost about 25 million dollars to develop. The DC-8 cost about 280 million dollars to develop, and the 707 a little bit less because it was the grandson of the B-47 and the son of the B-52.

The supersonic plane, we think, will cost in the range of 750 million dollars to almost a billion.

Now, here are the assets of the three airframe manufacturers now engaged in competition for the primary SST development contract: Boeing, a little over 300 million dollars; Lockheed, a little over 200 million; North Anlerican, about 210 million.

So you can't ask them to risk their entire companies on this, financially. And, secondly, there are a lot of technical risks that neither the Government nor they know precisely-we know generally-how to overcome and minimize.

So the U.S. Government had a choice: We can either get in, or we can do nothing. In other words, if the U.S. plane manufacturer and the airline operator can't get together-too bad. Let the largely nationalized manufacturing concerns and the nationalized airline concerns in Britain and France, fully subsidized by their Governments, take the market. ow, if you do that, here's what happens: We have had over the years a pre-eminent position in air-transport fleets.

In 1960, we had 93 per cent of the world's piston-transport aircraft built in America. We had only 26 per cent of the turboprops, but we had 70 per cent of the jet fleet. In 1963, we still had about 93 per cent of the piston, very little more of the turboprop, and, fortunately, a good, healthy 75 per cent of the pure-jet fleet.

Q. What if the development cost on the SST starts to run away with you?

A. If we thought the development costs were going to be over a billion dollars, I think we would advise either termination or postponement of the programme.

We feel that, if you get over about a billion dollars in development cost, or over somewhere in the range of 25 million dollars per plane, you price yourself out of the market.

Now, we aren't determined that this airplane will be built at any cost. This isn't a prestige plane. This is a commercialand I emphasize that word "commercial"-supersonic transport, and we can't think of it as we do the space or military programme.

We're not talking about tens of billions of dollars to go to the moon. We're talking about advancing some development money, then recovering it in a partnership between Government and industry to move our airline-transport system up into the supersonic-speed realm of 1,500 to 2,000 miles an hour. •

On December 7, 1963, in the presence of the late Prime Minister Nehru, Ambassador Chester Bowles signed an agreement for U.S. financial aid to India in building its first nuclear power plant at Tarapur, near Bombay. Construction is now progressing both at the site and in the U.S. where components of the plant "are being manufactured. One of the largest projected power stations of its' kind in the world, it will supply much-needed low-cost power for India's industrial and domestic use.

Tarapur Atomic Power Project:

PROGRESS REPORT

Tarapur station will greatly augment the power resources of Maharashtra PALM-DOTIED GRASSLAND near Tarapur in Maharashtra hums with activity as a thousand workers begin construction of India's first atomic power station. With a projected capacity of 380,000 kws and estimated to cost about Rs. 50 crores, it will be one of the biggest of its kind in the world.

Preliminary work at the site including clearing of land, construction of roads and provision of electricity has been going on for about two years. Construction of buildings began last January, and several structures including some permanent residential buildings, a hostel for visitors and temporary buildings for offices and a rest house have since been completed.

'The Government of India decided in 1958 to embark on a programme of generating atomic energy and the Planning Commission approved of the inclusion of the first project in the Third Plan. In view of the rapidly rising power needs of Gujarat and Maharashtra States and the inadequacy of their conventional power resources it was decided to locate this first station on the country's west coast. A number of possible sites were thoroughly surveyed to determine the best location and Tarapur was the final choice. Among the factors which determined this choice were easy accessibility and availability of construction materials, availability of cooling water, favourable offshore conditions, and strong sub-soil and foundation conditions.

After a comprehensive survey and collection of all necessary

T

HE

and Gujarat.

data, global tenders were invited for the construction of Tarapur station and quotations were received from various concerns in Canada, France, the U.K. and the U.S. The contract was awarded in May, 1964, to the International General Electric Company (IGE) of the United States which offered to build a 380 mw station, with a boiling-water enriched uranium plant, for Rs. 48.5 crores. This figure is Rs. 2.5 crores less than the amount provided for in the Third Plan for an atomic power plant of smaller capacity.

Considerable progress was made in negotiations with the United States Government for a loan of $80 million for financing the project and for technical assistance. The two agreements were signed in August and December of last year.

Apart from the $80 million loan channelled through the United States Agency for International Development, the U.S. Atomic Energy Commission agreed to provide enriched uranium for the initial fuel charge for the station, estimated to cost about $15 million on a long term deferred payment basis. This brings the total amount of U.s. foreign exchange assistance to 95 million (Rs. 45.2 crores).

The agreement with the IGE covers the largest commercial contract ever undertaken by this concern which has built several atomic power stations in Italy, Japan, Germany and the United States. It also is one of the largest single contracts entered into by the Government of India.

The IGE design of the station envisages a compact plant consisting of two reactors each connected to a turbine generator and associated auxiliaries. The two reactors, each capable of generating 190 mw power, will be housed in spherical steel vessels located in a common building. This will be flanked by the service building and the central control room. The turbine building will be built adjacent to it. Water for cooling purposes will be drawn from the ocean through a canal extending about 2,300 feet and after use it will be channelled back into the sea through another canal.

The two turbine generators, each weighing about 700 tons when assembled, are due to arrive in India from the U.S. in January, 1966. Within a few weeks they will be in position in the plant. Reactor vessels will arrive two months later.

Housed in one building, the two reactors will share some common facilities, but the design is such that even if one does J:?otoperate the other will continue to function, avoiding a complete breakdown. Suitable provision has been made to ensure that the two reactor streams do not mix inadvertently.

Special care has been devoted to providing spare equipment to keep the plant availability as high as possible.

Under the terms of the agreement with IGE, the station must be in full operation by October, 1968. A firm completion date having been guaranteed by the constructors, damages are payable for delays and similarly a bonus is payable to the contractor for completion ahead of schedule. IOE are very hopeful of winning a bonus. They have sub-contracted to the Bechtel Corporation of U.S.A. for the construction and erection of the plant. Twenty-three American engineers of both firms are at present engaged in the work.

According to schedule the plant is to go critical in October, 1967, when, to begin with, it will generate power in a small fraction of its capacity for test purposes. Power generation will be raised gradually over a period of about ten months to test the equipment and installations. In the final stage, IGE will conduct a full capacity test in co-operation with the Department of Atomic Energy.

The initial fuel load will remain intact for the first twoand-a-half years. A one-fifth part of it will then be replaced with new fuel. Such partial replacement will be made about every nine months. The Agreement for Co-operation entered into by the Governments ofIndia and the United States provides for the supply of enriched uranium requirements for refuelling the station throughout its estimated life of thirty years.

IGE have also undertaken to train Indian operation and maintenance personnel at their plants in the United States.

It is expected that some forty engineers and scientists will be sent to the U.S. for training.

A great part of the construction of the township at the site has also been entrusted to IGE. The colony, expected to be completed by the middle of next year, will include residential quarters for about 200 station personnel, a hospital, a school, a hostel for visitors, a swimming pool, and recreational clubs.

This work is in addition to the contract for erection of the plant.

When operating at full capacity, the Tarapur power station will generate a substantial proportion of the energy requirements of Maharashtra and Gujarat. The cost of generation is estimated to be 3! paise or less per kw-much lower than the generation costs of conventional thermal power in this region.

Continued on next page

Reactors for Tarapur will be built in California Behind Tarapur Power Project is GEe's extensive technological and construction experience.

HEGENERAL ELECTRICCOMPANYis prime supplier of U.S. equipment for the Tarapur Atomic Power Station and will also fabricate the initial load of fuel for the station.

Its Indian subsidiary, International General Electric Company (India) Private Limited, will be responsible for the installation of the equipment and overall construction of the station.

The American company, which secured the contract in the face of keen competition, is well qualified to undertake this important project. It has more than fifteen years' experience in the nuclear power field including the design of large commercial nuclear power plants. ItsAtomic Power Equipment Department (APED) was formed in March, 1955, to centralize G.E.'s activities for the commercial development of atomic power equipment. The Department employs some 1,800 persons including 700 engineers, scientists and management personnel, and has its headquarters at San Jose, California. This is where the two reactors of 190,000 kilowatts each for the Tarapur station will be built. The initial load of slightly enriched uranium fuel will also be fabricated at the San Jose plant, while the two turbinegenerator sets will be manufactured by G.E.'s Large Steam Turbine Generator Department, located at Schenectady, New York.

General Electric is active in many fields of nuclear technology ranging from' power plants to radioisotope production.

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It maintains well-equipped research and technology laboratories and is engaged in advanced basic and applied research. Since its formation in 1955, APED has received orders for some thirty-six reactors for use in the United States and other countries.

Among the domestic nuclear power plants supplied by G.E. and already in operation are the Dresden Power Station near Chicago, which in late 1963 became the first nuclear plant in the United States to generate three billion kilowatt-hours of electricity; the Big Rock Point Plant near Charlevoix, Michigan, with a capacity of 75,000 kws; and the Humboldt Bay Power Plant near Eureka, California, which has a capacity of 50,000 kws. Three other nuclear power plants are now in the process of design or construction by G.E. These are the Oyster Creek Plant in Lacey Township, New Jersey, designed for an ultimate capacity of more than 600,000 kws; the Nine Mile Point Plant on the shore of Lake Ontario, six miles east of Oswego, New York, also of 600,000 kws capacity; and the Bodega Bay Atomic Park in California, with a planned capacity of 325,000 kws.

In addition the General Electric either has installed or is under contract to install nuclear power plants in Japan, Italy and Germany. Its total current involvement in commercial applications of nuclear energy is probably larger than that of any other company. •

it will be generally understood that the main challenge to U.S. society will turn not around the production of goods but around the difficulties and opportunities involved in a world of accelerating change and ever widening choices. Change has always been part of the human condition. What is different now is the pace of change, and the prospect that it will come faster and faster, affecting every part of life, including personal values, morality, and religion, whIch seem most remote from technology. .

The condition is man-made; and everybody has some share of responsibility for it, not the least, the U.S. industrialist. For many changes come about through the business system, which has an active role to play between the discoverers on one hand and the consumers on the other. Within corporations hundreds of techniques, arising from scores of separate scientific and technological disciplines, are drawn together through complex management structures. Here all kinds of values arising from the individual initiative and responsibilities of corporate managers and specialists are somehow integrated. A larger and more intricate mediation of values and purposes occurs in "the market," meaning thousands of interconnected markets, where the public exercises ever increasing power through billions of daily decisions.

The resultant of all these corporate and consumer decisions alters the very conditions of life.

So swift is the acceleration that trying to "make sense" of change will come to be our basic industry. Aesthetic and ethical values will be evolving along with the choices to which they will be applied. The question about progress will be how good rather t.b.an how much. Already this shift away from purely materialist and quantitative criteria is well advanced.

Change is called "excessive" when it appears to outrun ethical or aesthetic patterns. In the conflicts that arise on this point there are dangers not only for the business system but also for the democratic constitutional state and for the hope that the spirit of individual man can enlarge its freedom.

Not long ago Alvin Pitcher, of the University of Chicago's divinity-school faculty, writing with anguished¡ eloquence in the Harvard Business Review, asked, "How much flux can man stand?" Not this much, he said, calling for a slowdown of automation and other socially disruptive and "needless" changes. Pitcher's anxiety was broader than the usual fear of such economic consequences as unemployment. He associated the present unprecedented mobility of American society with juvenile delinquency, with the dissolution of communities, with a barrenness in individual life. Man, who needs a measure of order and stability, is being dehumanized, he said, by excessive change.

Most American political and social issues today arise, like Pitcher's protest, out of concern over the pace and quality of change. In many cases, the protest is accompanied by proposals that government restore order by taking some additional degree of control. Historically, it would be ironic if the long struggle of the individual vs. the state should issue as a programme for protecting the individual by having government take charge of change. Practically, it is quite hopeless to expect a central government to perform well a task requiring a high degree of flexibility, decentralization, and willingness to accept risk. But the argument against statism will not prevail as long as we think that responsibility for coping with change must be assigned either to the government or else to the naked, isolated individual.

This way offraming the choice is set up by a Jeffersonian tradition (endorsed by Lincoln, Richard Nixon, and Lyndon Johnson, among others), which holds that the 'government should do only those things that the people cannot do for themselves. But in the American society of 1964, what can the people as individuals do for themselves? Each man can grasp only a few of the disciplines in which knowledge is divided. No individual, by himself, can sustain his present level of living. Most obviously of all, no individual' can cope with radical change. If it's a choice between the isolated individual and government-then government had better do it.

But, of course, that isn't the real choice. In Jefferson's day organizations other than government were thin on the ground, , small and simple. In the last hundred and fifty years they have proliferated in numbers, grown huge in size, and , most important, have so evolved as to widen the scope of individuals working within them and of individuals dealing ITHIN A DECADE OR TWO

Jeffersonian tradition holds that the government should do only those things that the people cannot

with them from outside. Organizations making up this "third area" or "middle tier" include, in addition to business corporations, local government services, voluntary organizations, labour unions, philanthropic foundations, and universities.

These last generate in their research centres most of the scientific discovery that is later transferred into technological change. They also educate nearly all the managers of the sister organizations and the intellectuals who try to express the patterns of value emerging in the society-or to improve those patterns by criticism. o JUDGMENT CAN BE MADE that even the amazing organizational fertility of recent American society is or will be adequate to cope with radical change. The point is simply that if this "middle tier" of institutions is bypassed or fails, society will fail. Shifting the venue of the struggle by putting the responsibility on government does not solve the problem, because socialism, too, would need criteria on which to decide how much change was "excessive" or "needless" and what kind of change was "disruptive." The police power works well only where norms are settled.

Unless it is stopped by' the deliberate exercise of power, the pace of change will continue to accelerate.

A study of what technology will be able to do will raise a number of non-technological questions of whether society should do them and, if so, how. There is, for instance, the possibility of improving the human race by deliberately altering genes. Aesthetic as well as ethical questions are involved in that. Will we wish to accept this opportunity at all and what should the rules be if we do?

No widely held system of ethics could possibly contain in definite, ready-to-use form the norms by which to evaluate many of the possibilities ahead. This is all the more true since the uses to which new developments will be put cannot always be foreseen, nor can their indirect effects on society.

Ideas of "the good life"-in both its ethical and aesthetic meanings-will not be static. There will have to be a lot of tentative judgments, a process of probing and testing, a continuous comparison of purposes, consequences, and priorities.

Most people would agree with Alvin Pitcher that American society should be doing a better job of coping with change.

Perhaps the performance would be better if Americans did not underestimate how different the present condition is from anything in the past. To stress the difference, four categories are set up-( 1) gradual change, (2) revolution and disruption, (3) rapid change, (4) radical change.

Gradual change. Immense alterations in the human condition have occurred in the past without much occurring in the life of anyone man. A language, for instance, can evolve from the most limited and primitive form to one rich and complex without any generation's being aware of the process.

When stable societies are conscious of change, it is almost always of a particular change, directly affecting one part of life and requiring mere adjustments in some other parts. If a new trade route is opened or a new god appears in the pantheon, the social task is accommodation. Order is restored as nearly as possible to the previously existing equilibrium. Even those groups in a stable society that deliberately try to bring about a change have in mind from the start their terminal point, their new equilibrium.

Revolution and major disruption. These occur in all periods of history and the changes involved can be both rapid and general. But from the beginning a revolutionist thinks he knows the order he wants to establish. The wheels will turn and come to a point of rest. The bourgeoisie and its values will replace the aristocracy and its values; or the workers will replace the bourgeoisie. Thrust will be followed by consolidation. Such a disruption as foreign conquest tries to superimpose the order of the conqueror on the conquered. Subsequent politics are efforts to restore an equilibrium.

Rapid change. The period 1800-1950 in some Western countries saw for the first time an open vista of rapid and general change. No terminal point was in view once "the method of invention" had been invented. Debate over politics and social policy tended to polarize, with those who clung to the old challenging those attracted by the new. From 1850 until 1914, there was a growing tendency to see "progress" as a kind of inevitable and beneficent tide, lifting up all the familiar patterns of society as if they were a colony of houseboats, leaving them unchanged in themselves and in relation to one another. Dissenters saw the tide as inexorably receding,

do for themselves. But in the society of 1964, what can the people as individuals do for themselves?

and the familiar institutions as headed for the mud. The period's most successful teacher of revolutionists, Karl Marx, also believed in inevitability. His new order would not be like any particular previous order but was to conform with patterns he thought he saw in the general laws of history; the victory of the proletariat was preordained by historical truth.

Radical change. The present period has been called "postmodern" and "post-industrial" -and even "post-Christian" and "post-Freudian." (It is unlikely to wear for long the belittling prefix "post.") The break between the period of rapid change and that of radical change is not sharp; 1950 is an arbitrary starting date. More aspects of life change fasteF until it is no longer appropriate to think of society as mainly fixed, or changing slowly, while a tide flows around it. So many patterns of life are being modified that it is no longer useful to organize discussion or debate mainly around the relation of the new to the old. So many old landmarks have been set in motion that they have become misleading as guides.Newness has become an even more treacherous beacon.

In the late-nineteenth century or early-twentieth century, "to be up to date" was a boast. In 1964 the very phrase sounds dated, for everyone knows that to be up to date means to be on the verge of becoming out of date. in 1964 plant their feet firmly in a foreseen future. Inevitability disappears. While mere revolution (we have got to get used to thinking of revolution as "mere") can believe itself capable of forecasting a new order, radical change cannot do this. The movement is so swift, so wide, and the prospect of acceleration so great that an imaginative leap into the future cannot find a point of rest, a still picture of social order.

Robert Oppenheimer has expressed the break with former eras quite succinctly. "This world of ours," he said, "is a new world, in which the unity of knowledge, the nature of human communities, the order of society, the order of ideas, the very notions of society and culture have changed, and will not return to what they have been in the past. What is new is new not because it has never been there before, but because it has changed in quality. One thing that is new is the prevalence of OR CAN

MEN

newness, the changing scale and scope of change itself, so that the world alters as we walk in it, so tnat the years of man's life measure not some small growth or rearrangement or mo,deration of what he learned in childhood, but a great upheaval."

Charles de Gaulle in Mexico put it more succinctly: "It so happens that the world is undergoing a transformation to which no change that has yet occurred can be. compared, either in scope or in rapidity."

Historian Marshall M. Fishwick recalls that the Angel Gabriel in Green Pastures put it still more succinctly, "Everything nailed down is coming loose."

Yet there is a danger in that word "everything." If it means the particular works of man as we see them around us, it is true: most of these (e.g., old buildings, old machines) will quickly disappear; some (e.g., methods of work and education) will be modified; and the greatest (e.g., high achievements of art and intellect) will remain, unchanged in themselves, though perceived somewhat differently by future decades. But if "everything" is taken to include, say, the continuity of man's quest for order and right and truth and harmony, then it is not true. There are, indeed, two different ways in which we can blind ourselves to the meaning of the radical change around us: either we comfort ourselves with some such piece of obsolescent wisdom as "the more it changes, the more it stays the same," or else-and this is worse-we assume that the flux is total, that past, present, and future have nothing to do with one another, that no patterns are discernible, that no purpose is feasible because the "winds of change" are beyond control and, anyway, human values now have no endurance, no footing. Both these escapes from thinking tend to deny or diminish' human responsibility, the first by assuming that the order "built into" society is beyond man's ability to destroy or improve, the second by confusing radical change with abs~lute randomness.

To speak of change, however radical, presupposes some con- . stants, some continuities, some patterns in that which is changing. The greater the change, the harder the reach needed to establish the patterns.

In looking for patterns, we do not start from scratch.

Neither men nor society determine objective truth, and a change in society will not change truth. But the perception

The tremendous growth of the "knowledge industry"-the

of truth by men-what they perceive and how they perceive it-is surely affected by changes in society. Many truths of history, science, philosophy, and religion have been perceived as transcending change. In a time of great social flux the truths perceived as transcendent may be fewer-and therefore more precious. They may be perceived as more abstractand therefore harder to apply to actual life. A tremendous effort will be required to build the intermediate links between the novel patterns of a changing society and abstract, enduring truth. The "middle-tier" organizations of American society are trying to forge such links out of the new values and purposes that emerge in the course of practical operations.

California, the fastest-changing State in the fastestchanging nation. is a good place to view this process. What would be the best focus for a history of California in the last twenty years? Climate? Citrus? Hollywood? Politics?

The aerospace industry? The right focus is higher education, around which much of. California's recent industrial and population growth has been organized. The University of California is a paradigm of how a society deals with radical change through "middle-tier" organizations. Its president, Clark Kerr, readily admits that the university is not organized around any central con~pt, derived from an ordered system of ideas. Whereas Cardinal Newman could write of The Idea of a University and Abraham Flexner could speak of "the idea ()f a modern university," Clark Kerr's recent book has to start at a different level; it is called The Uses of the University. Any claim to essential present unity is abandoned; Kerr calls it the multiversity-and not merely because it has several campuses. But the quest for unity is not abandoned.

Kerr and his fellow administrators deal sensitively with all kinds of "markets"-the world academic community, faculty members with a thousand specialized interests, the public, the undergraduates; the business community, the dispensers of Federal grants. Yet the University of California is not a mere supine field in which these various conflicting "forces" are in play. The university has a character. It has evolving purposes. It assumes responsibility for actively mediating and modifying the influences upon it.

If this institution has no fixed star to steer by, it at least has very efficient antennae with which to feel its way. In its unfolding policy there is a sense of emergence, of organiza-

teaching, the journalism, the advertising

tional evolution, of process rather than finished product.

Its huge adult-education programme gives a clue to its place in a changing society: one-third of all the lawyers in the State are now taking its courses; so are one-sixth of the doctors.

Learning is not directed towards a terminal point. California's future is regarded as an open vista. Its quality will be determined not by set plan and not by blind chance, but largely by the quality of the men and women who enter the great stream of the State's system of higher education.

The University of California's annual operating expenditure of over half a billion is a tiny part of what Princeton's Professor Fritz Machlup calls "the knowledge industry."

Using an overly generous definition that includes as "knowledge" everything from printing on a pillbox to television programmes, Machlup calculates that "the knowledge industry" accounts¡ for twenty-nine per cent of the gross national product (as adjusted by him). Even with the fluff excluded, a very large part of all the work done in the U.S. can be realistically included in knowledge. "the knowledge industry" is the cost of original research, the production of new knowledge. Most of the industry is the processing and distribution of knowledge-all the teaching, the textbooks, the journalism, the advertising, and other forms of communication. The tremendous growth of these activities raises the question of why we need so much more organized communication than our ancestors had.

The answer lies in radical change as a condition of life.

Most members of a stable society absorbed almost unconsciously all they needed to know about the life around them.

A small group of educated men consciously shared a fixed body of organized knowledge. In short, only a small part of a stable society's total effort needed to be devoted to the "connective tissue" binding one man to another or connecting one aspect of life to another. With us it is otherwise. All parts of society are in motion and most men are in motion-changing jobs, changing resiQence, changing acquaintances, buying things they never bought before, confronting problems and seizing opportunities their fathers never heard of. In the MINOR FRACTION OF

radically changing society the connective tissue, the organized effort required to stay in touch, is enormous and every year will require a larger proportion of the total work. At bottom, this is an effort to consume change intelligently, to establish some pattern of order in the midst of flux.

This need is the real basis for doubting that our grandchildren will have nothing to do when they grow up except chase one another around swimming pools. The evidence that there will be more work and harder work ahead already piles up around us. Much quoted is a recent prediction that within a generation only two per cent of Americans, as farmers and factory production workers, will be able to produce all the food and manufactured goods the whole population will want. This is supposed to be an astounding projection, one which clinches the argument that the future will have lots of leisure-or mass unemployment. The projection is not astounding at all when it is recalled that last year in the U.S. only nin~ per cent of the population, as farmers and factory production workers, produced all the food and manufactured goods. In the last twenty~three years the number of farmers and farmworkers has decreased by more than forty-five per cent while the number of teachers has almost doubled.

The contrast between those two trends is a key to the nature of life in a radically changing society.

Indeed, it would be quite impossible for a society to cope with radical change if it had not already reduced to a minor fraction of the labour force the number of people required to produce things. For the condition of radical change is not one that can be handled by a tiny elite group of scientists, politicians, and economic administrators~ From this viewpoint, the computer revolution is not a threat to employment but an opportunity for society to find among the displaced whitecollar workers the people it needs for higher functions involved in the absorption of change. American society is behaving as ifit senses this future need for what might be called "massive leadership," a labour force that would have more captains, majors, and colonels than privates. (Mach1riesare the privates, computers the sergeants.)

The rapid evolution of the American corporation in its external and internal aspects shows both the growing importance of connective tissue and the trend towards massive leadership. Peter F. Drucker, who for twenty years has been

perhaps the shrewdest prophet foretelling the changing structure and functions of corporations, made "innovation" a key word in his Landmarks of Tomorrow (1957). To innovate is to plan, which can be done either by governments or by corporations. But planned innovation, however good, cannot eliminate risk. When innovation is channelled through autonomous, competing corporations, risk js encouraged and the social cost of unsuccessful innovation can be limited. Society can afford to have a corporation fail, but society cannot afford to have central government fail. Government economic planners, proceeding by law or fiat, have no flexiblemechanism comparable to a market in which they can assess the probabilities of any given risk and measure its results.

Every year corporations have become more conscious of innovation as their central activity. Whole industrieschemicals is the best-known example-now derive half their revenues from products not in existence a generation ago.

No product is safe in an innovating world. No corporation, however big or diversified, is safe. The very fact that most goods and services sold today are not necessities of life gives consumers a new leverage. Accordingly, corporations will all live dangerously and try desperately to communicate-to listen for potentialities in the market, to present themselves as worthy mediators of change.

The shift in emphasis from finished product to continuing process is apparent in the transformation that has come over that ancient and honourable function of business-salesmanship. The salesman no longer sees his work as one separate sale after another. His is a continuous service connecting the emerging potentialities of his customer's needs with the emerging potentialities of his own business.

The rise of "marketing" is an example of evolving connective tissue, a process in which competing corporations by a delicate (and sometimes indelicate) process of probing play their part in society's choice of what it wants. The function is especially important in the introduction of new goods and services, an activity condemned in some quarters as "creating wants." This moral condemnation is derived from the ethics. of the stable society-but not necessarily from the .basic principles of Christianity. An innovating society has to form new wants, new purposes, as surely as it has to make new things. Created needs appeared even in the stable societies.

While the instruments of community decision-outside

Calories, sex, and a dry place to sleep-these are the primal wants; the rest is all contrivance. Who, prior to its invention, was demanding the printing press or the mass literacy that (very slowly) followed it? What barefoot multitude raised barricades crying, "Give us shoes"? What throne was toppled by an unwashed populace clamouring for soap?

Present-day critics of created wants retrospectively approve the fact that literacy, shoes, and soap finally came into the possession of most people. Progress, it would seem, is all right if it is detached from deliberate thought and organized purpose. This view rather harshly implies, of course, that it was better for whole generations to have died unlettered, unshod, and unclean rather than have men exercise the wit and will that would have hastened the creation of new markets.

BVIOUSLY, COMMERCIAL risks are not the only ones involved in the business of creating new wants. Hideousness abounds in American cities, and some of it is newly minted, innovating hideousness proceeding from the organizations of the middle tier. The juvenile mass market in printed pornography has "Vastlyexpanded in recent years. In both these cases, commercial success encourages innovations that are held aesthetically or ethically wrong. Law and other instruments of community decision-outside of markets-must be evolved rapidly enough to set bounds upon innovation. But most of the hope that changes will be ethically and aesthetically better lies within the market itself. Both consumers and corporations share in the responsibility for developing improved norms. In the static society the applicable norms were considered as fixed (or gradually changing); whoever produced a new thing had only to obey the thou-shalt-not represented by the norms. Now the norms themselves have to be strengthened, refined, or reinterpreted as innovation proceeds.

Conventions inherited from previous eras inhibit corporate managers from telling a stockholders' meeting that they raised the charwomen's pay because they thought it "right" or built the factory that way because they thought it "beautiful." Around the vast activity of commercial styling, packaging, and designing can be heard a lot of cheaply cynical talk and a lot of sloppily sentimental talk. The first speaks

of markets-must

be evolved rapidly enough

of these aesthetic activities as gimmicks to trap the suckers; the second regards them as worthy evasions of the discipline of profits. But, in fact, the degree of actual integration of profits, ethics, and aesthetics may be considerably greater than the talk indicates. Managers often proceed as if the customers had a subliminal perception that a company with a rationally humane labour policy and a clearly designed letterhead would be more likely than not to deliver a reliable piece of farm machinery. The managers.are right to make this assumption-right profitwise and otherwise.

This is not to say that the ethical and aesthetic situation in the "middle tier" organizations is "good" or that it will necessarily improve. The assertion is only that business organizations are deeply involved in values higher than materialist values, that they increasingly know this, and that they are not to be theoretically excluded from the possibility of performing vital social functions in the strengthening of these values.

The importance of this apparently modest proposition is suggested by a contrast with another society. Henry Anatole Grunwald, a recent traveller to the Soviet Union, noted: "While in Russia I realized that in the West not only ads but also goods and services themselves try to please me, appeal to me, hence talk to me. The meal in the U.S. airplane, the new Detroit car design, the comfortable mass-produced shoe, the air-conditioned New York movie house-they all communicate with me. Perhaps they do so only to get my money away from me; but they still communicate. In Russia, things don't talk to people." The difference can hardly be found in a genetically transmitted superiority of American taste over Russian. The difference is in the way production and distribution are organized. Decision makers of the Soviet production system are isolated from the punishment of a market that allows a broad range of individual choice. Things don~t talk to people because people can't effectively talk back.

An economic system rigidly and centrally organized around the necessities of life can be expected to display in design and style the mute arrogance of take-it-because-you-must.

Increasingly, the U.S. economy will be organized around option s-take- it-if-you-like-it-better-than -something -else.

The internal aspect of corporations is evolving as significantly as their relation with the rest of society. In the first

to set bounds upon innovation, consumers and corporations share responsibility for improving norms. .

half of the twentieth century the typical corporation was a rather simple pyramid with a base of workers who performed repetitive tasks, similar one to another; semi-skilled was the word for them. At the top were a few managers; power was the word for them. Within the managerial group and between it and the workers the flow of authority was all one wayfrom top to bottom. A very plausible case could be made that this structure tended to crush the initiative and individual spirit of those who worked within it.

This picture is not true of many corporations today, and will be true of fewer tomorrow. The armies of undifferentiated workers have been replaced by better-trained men. with more carefully defined responsibilities; specialization is the word for them. The managerial group has expanded hugely, and divides into specialists and generalists. The former have authority based on knowledge. They include not only scientists and technologists, but increasing numbers of experts stemming out of the ~ocial arts and sciences-eommunicators, psychologists, lawyers. The responsibility of the generalists, who appear at many levels, is to integrate and transcend the specialists, in a continuous process of changing operations and evolving purposes. Power there is, but it is a highly "constitutionalized" form of power, appearing in hundreds of focuses and running sideways and up as well as down.

The logic of the new structure of corporations requires initiative at every focus of responsibility.

The men to match the logic are emerging. The young executives, successful managers moving towards the top rungs, are notably uncrushed by corporate life. They are not conformists and they are not cogs. They are conscious of their need to co-operate with one another, but also conscious that organization enlarges their individual range of action. The more alert among corporations are striving consCiously to develop the internal atmosphere in which initiative flourishes.

Is this form of working life-in which millions will be engaged within a few decades-"dehumanizing"?

A fellow editor remembers a scene of splendid isolation. One of his first jobs required him to enter the bottom of a silo where, as the corn poured down, he walked round and round, hour after hour, treading it down. Progress for him occurred as .the corn rose towards the top of the silo where the air was better; then he started at the bottom of another silo. The

task was not spiritually barren. He recited Shakespeare's sonnets to himself, an exercise of great aesthetic merit and one that conferred lasting illumination upon his literary style.

His present job requires exasperating co-operation as he debates with fellow editors. It requires discipline of thought and hard-won knowledge. His social function might be described as relating current trends to a body of intermediate patterns of order called political economy. He is part of the "knowledge industry." On the whole, he .thinks his job has been "humanized" since the bygone days at the bottom of the silo. Some machine, no doubt, has taken over the old jO,b of treading down the corn, releasing a man to lend a mind-not a foot-to the task of achieving an intelligible cohesion in a world that technology is changing.

Five years ago Edwin H. Land of Polaroid Corporation said: "Industry should address itself now to the production of a worthwhile, highly rewarding, highly creative, inspiring daily job for everyone of a hundred million Americans."

Of course, "industry" is not a collective and did not consciously formulate that as a national programme. But in its decentralized, competitive way it has moved in the direction Land indicated.

HIS ARTICLE has been focused on the mediation of emerging values performed by the middle-tier organizations in an era of radical change. It needs to be said again that, ultimately, these values find their footing in transcendent truths drawn from history, philosophy, science, and religion. Each of these sOl;1rcesof order now has a somewhat different-but not less important-bearing on society.

History, for instance, is much less useful than it was as a source of directly applicable precedent. "The prevalence of newness" introduces too many variables. Yet we see men turning more and more to history-and they are right. The present "lessons" are to be found at a higher level of abstraction. Americans, for instance, can learn who they are and that their ,destiny has to do with building an order of freedom in a world of change. Their Constitution is sufficiently abstract to have withstood more social change than any other form of government in history, a fact of some encouraging signi-

Each changing generation will have different needs-created

ficancein dealing with the future. History, one notices, keeps being rewritten-and this also is right. Each changing generation will have different needs-created needs-from the record of the past. E. H. Carr says history is "a dialogue between the events of the past and progressively emerging future ends. The historian's interpretation of the past, his selection of the significant and the relevant, evolves with the progressive emergence of new goals."

In the area of organized knowledge the notorious damage to unity-not mainly attributable to technological changeremains formally unrepaired. The disarray looks as bad as seventy years ago when Woodrow Wilson called attention to the disordered "constitution oflearning," with its "separate baronies." But there may be more actual integration of knowledgethan appears. C. P. Snow has recently noted that in the U.S. even "the two cultures" of science and the humanities are drawing closer. Meanwhile, separate scientific disciplines increasingly talk seriously to one another, their integration mediated by seminars, conferences, Federal projects, interdepartmental university structures-and by business corporations. Scientists learn the bureaucratic arts and become formidable "operators" in Washington and New York. What draws the disciplines together is the growing sense that individual achievement can be enlarged by organized purpose.

The effective condition of knowledge today ili not unity; neither-and this is certain-is it chaos. of an accepted integrating philosophy is felt particularly keenly in the field of law - especially the law of nations-where the social invention of effective institutions has lagged far behind the pace of change. Chaos could come in that door-but it hasn't yet.

Many individuals in recent years have reacted to extreme social flux by turning to the order, unity, and transcendence represented by religious truth. In any age, awareness of the world's transiency is a fundamental of religious motivation and belief. But men of the traditional religions should be aware of the growing attraction of religious systems very different from their own.

HE ABSENCE

needs-from

the record of the past.

Scientific humanism has been a waxing way-of-belief and has been blamed for inculcating man-worship and, thus, for some of the twentieth century's more avoidable calamities.

Innocent or guilty, it has taken a new lease on life. There is even an effort to project a future integration of science and religion in an extraordinary work, The Integration of Human Knowledge. by Oliver L. Reiser, professor of philosophy at that expanding powerhouse of learning, the University of Pittsburgh. The book is explicitly pantheist and rests heavily -very heavily-on mathematics and biology in modernizing the ideas of Pythagoras. Reiser predicts an evolution towards a synthesis of thought and value in a "giant organism of a world sensorium." This is an impressive, internally consistent work-in short, no joke. If the actual efforts to evolve intermediate patterns of order break down, a lot of people, avid for a restoration of unity, are going to head for Dr. Reiser's sensorium, rather than for the traditional religions.

Perhaps it might be prudent for men of the traditional religions to stop thinking of them as traditional. In the old-new polarity that developed in the period 1800-1950, many defenders of religion aligned themselves with "things as they had been." Today it is much more widely recognized that "eternal verity" does not mean the same as "old order." No preference for the stable society is ~mbolically expressed by the God of the Long March out of Egypt or by Christ, the Disturber, the Swordbringer. .

Man.is right to make what order he can in the midst of change, even though society may lack a generally accepted integrating system of ideas and values. It is possible that an integration of ideas, a philosophy, will evolve. It has done so before within the perimeter of Christian belief.

One can foresee, at least, many occasions for humility ahead. But not necessarily failure of society, and not necessarily success. The question, "How much flux can man stand?" assumes that the degree of change should be measured against some fixed point of human tolerance. But man and his society evolve. He can stand as much flux as his developing intellectual, moral, and organizational achievement can keep up with. So far-though. the pace is furious - he has not lost the race with his own expanded capacity to innovate. •

THE EXPLOSION "Pop art" glorifies the commonplace,

OF POP ART

drawing its imagery from Coke bottles,

billboards, comICS and supermarkets. Many connoisseurs

OONE FEELS lukewarm about it. "Pop art" has its enthusiasts, including collectors who are paying twenty and thirty thousand dollars for some of it, and its violent detractors, including some of America's most respected critics. The battle lines, however, are not neatly drawn nor the reactions predictable. Even within the Museum of Modern Art, New York, there is no definite line. The curator of

N

Mrs. Saarinen, widow of the late distinguished architect, Eero Saarinen, is known as an art critic, partly for her former columns in The New York Times and partly for her two books, one The Proud Possessors, and the other Eero Saarinen on His Work. which she edited. In private li/e, this mother of three sons lives in New Haven, Connecticut, where she has been writing a biography of Stanford White and his Age of Elegance. This article, abridged from Vogue, is reprinted by permission. Š 1963 by Conde Nast Publications, Inc. ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

ask: Is it really art?

pamtmgs is explosively contemptuous of "pop art," but the director of collections is studiously interested -and the trustees have bought half-a-dozen.

Although there have been occasional crossreferences both ways, during the first six decades of this century the fine arts have travelled one path, and popular arts-the arts of mass-communications, massproduction, and mass-consumption, all unique to the twentieth century-have travelled another.

"Pop art" is the catchall label to describe a new kind of fine art which has popular art connections at its core. In general, "pop art" artists have two things in common. They have all drawn their imagery from popular art: from commercial and advertising art, from trademarks, billboards and signs, from newspapers, tabloids and magazines, from movies, photographs, television and comic strips, from the freeway and the highway, the supermarket and the assembly line. They have, more or less in common, a new and Continued on page 32

"Pop art" aroused considerable controversy when it first appeared on the scene-and

still has vocal detractors.

Persimmon Robert Rauschenberg

A symposium on "pop art" at the Museum of Modern Art in New York (December 1962) contributed lively views on the new movement. Henry Geldzahler, Assistant Curator of American Painting and Sculpture at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, believes that the phenomenon of "pop art" was inevitable: " 'Pop art' is immediately contemporary. We have not yet assimilated its new visual content and style. The question at hand is not whether it is great art; this question is not answerable, or even interesting, just now.

I think the point is not to make an immediate ultimate evaluation, but to admit the possibility that this subject matter and these techniques are, and can be, the legitimate subject matter and technique of art. And the point is too, to realize that 'pop art' did not fall from the heavens fully developed. It is an expression of contemporary sensibility, aware of contemporary environment and growing naturally out of the art of the recent past."

The Black Diamond American Dream, far left, and The Demuth American Dream, left.

Robert Indiana

In the Los Angeles Times (California, December 1962), art critic Henry J. Se/dis writes: "Our initial sampling of this 'new realism' is found in the Dwan Gallery's controversial exhibition titled 'My Country 'Tis of Thee,' .... There is a humour and irreverence ... in this exhibition but there is also an abundance of cynicism and an overt search for novelty and faddism that does not augur well for the seriousness and future of this new departure. 'Commonism,' 'pop art,' or 'the new realism' ... will probably be as short-lived as the neo-dada fad ....

Yet it does point to some plausible future development. From it, even from its present practitioners, may emerge a new and venturesome generation of American artists, not averse to thinking, who will re-establish, in a manner peculiar to its own time and place, the need to balance intellect with intuition, introspection with observation and free experimentation with formal considerations in the art of our time."

'POP ART': PROS AND CONS John Canaday, "New York Times'" art critic, writes about "pop art's" staying-power (January 1964): "At whatever serious level it manages to maintain, 'pop art' is concerned with commenting on our current position in the world today by imitating, in an off-beat way, objects that assault us every day as a degrading obligato to the business of staying alive in the twentieth century-billboards, signs, the thousands of objects involved in our processes of communication and the mere job of getting from one place to another. . . . Its artists relish the inanities and perversities that they have adopted as a pictorial vocabulary; they seem to enjoy exposing what is hateful only as a compensation for something missed.... This is too bad, since 'pop art' seemed at first to have at least the virtue of a return to some kind of examination of the world."

Hilton Kramer, art cntIc of The Nation and frequent contributor to Arts Magazine made this point at the Symposium: " 'Pop art' does not tell us what it feels like to be living through the present moment of civilization-it is merely part of the evidence of that civilization. Its social effect is simply to reconcile us to a world of commodities, banalities and vulgarities-which is to say, an effect indistinguishable from advertising art. This is a reconciliation that must-now more than ever-be refused, if art-and life itself-is to be defended against the dishonesties of contrived public symbols and pretentious commerce."

special interest in the nature of reality and illusion.

At the beginning, there was no organized "pop art" movement or group, but these days the bandwagon is getting crowded. Jasper Johns, who is not a "pop art" artist, is the key figure. (A number of critics call Johns a co-founder of the movement with Robert Rauschenberg.) Johns had been using targets and American flags, which appealed to him as two-dimensional pictorial subjects, to make paintings which were compelling "fine art." He had also glorified beer cans by casting them, that is making "fine art" sculpture, and then repainting them back into beer cans. Unquestionably, he first showed a dozen or so young painters new possibilities, emboldening them to believe that the stuff of art could be anything one chose.

"The reality in Johns knocked me over," said one young artist.

The young men-and they are young, for their average age is about thirty--came from places as disparate as North Dakota and New York. Some of them had been commercial artists and some not.

All began working independently. Suddenly, they emerged into the art world with work which had enough in common to indicate a trend and to justify, with reservations, an identifying tag.

Although these men share imagery and interests,

In the highly-reputed magazine "Arts" (February 1963), Gerald Nordland, Director of the Washington Gallery of Modern Art, discusses a California "pop arts" exhibition: "As social criticism or satire these works are non-specific and unclear.

Some have taken advantage of the superficialities of abstract expressionism by borrowing the devices, scale, surface, ambiguity....

For the most part the 'pop' artist is depending upon the current prejudice of the city dwellers to react to his work as if it were art or satire. The juxtaposition of incongruous materials is not enough to create art. Somehow the artist must associate them in such a way that the viewer feels a wonderment and satisfaction in their coming together. . . . If art is, as I believe it to be, a non-verbal expression of human feeling created for our perception, this is inferior work because it is dominated by word-ideas; it has little love or criticism in it and thus does not communicate truly."

Dr. Alan R. Solomon, Director of the Jewish Museum in New York, devotee of "pop art," says: "The new figurative art, or, as it is called, 'new realism,' 'pop art' or 'neo-dada,' has provoked a response of extraordinary intensity, stimulating extremes of unabashed delight or renewed anguish. Like all vital, new movements in rhe modern period (impressionism, cubism, fauvism), it has quickly been assigned a pejorative title-or string of titles, in this case-by the unsympathetic critics, who add to the confusion by emphasizing the wrong attributes of the style.

On the other hand, among the 'advanced' observers and collectors of contemporary art, the new artists have enjoyed a spectacular success in a relatively short period of time, and their work has been sought out even before it reached the uptown galleries during the last two seasons. These artists speak to ourfeelings rather than to our minds and they have no programmatic philosophical intent. Still, they speak so clearly from the contemporary spirit thar their art, as much as it varies from individual to individual, shows a remarkable degree of philosophical consistency."

Writing in the magazine Mademoiselle (December 1963), Leo Lerman discusses works at the Rose Art Museum (Brandeis University, Waltham, Massachusetts) which include "pop art." He says that "the Museum, although it is also rich in post-impressionist and early twentieth-century works and owns some fifty old masters, would seem to believe in 'pop,' or, as it has been characterized the 'new realism' .... 'Pop art' and all manifestations of the new figurative painting and sculpture indicate a return to the humanistic in art. 'Pop' evidences, as much as does any peace march or anti-nuclear-weapons de~onstration, protest and rebellion against a bomb-dominated world."

they are widely different in attitude, in intent, in style, and, significantly, in talent. Confusion was compounded in the wild assemblage of an international exhibition called "New Realists" put on in October, 1962, by the taste-setting New York dealer, Sidney Janis. The show included men like Claes Oldenburg, who uses papier-mache and plaster to make super-real symbols of hamburgers and pies-a-Ia-mode, to others like Jim Dine, who, by incorporating such objects as a lawn mower into a painting, contrives to make actual objects look fake. The exhibition also contained a whole grab bag of work by neo-surrealists, neodadaists, and others. Although indeed involved with the objects of our time, it did not have the particular and peculiar connections with popular art to make it authentic.

The exhibition at the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum (New York, March-June 1963) of six contemporary painters, including non-"pop art" artist Jasper Johns, who is without doubt the best painter in the show, gave the public a close-up look at three genuine "pop art" artists: Warhol, Lichtenstein and Rosenquist. (Tom Wesselman is also a significant "pop" artist.) Collectively, their work illuminates what "pop art" is about. Individually, their work is so different that it points up the irresponsibility of whole-

sale damnation or wholesale praise of any kind of art, forcing the rejection of the silly, prevalent question: "Is 'pop art' art?" We must inquire instead: "Does this particular man produce works of art?"

These three share mass-production, mass-communication imagery. These three work as painters and none of them includes actual objects in his paintings. As a matter of fact, their painted images are not even based on actual objects, but on the mass-communication symbols of these objects. These three seem to be saying, each in his own way, that there is a new reality in which the symbol of a thing is as real-or even more real-than the thing itself, that now the fiction has become more real than the fact.

I cannot help thinking of Andy Warhol as "the pop-art kid." He has a wide-eyed, charming,. impudent face that you expect to see smeared with jam from an after-school sandwich. In his small, temporary apartment, the stuff of "pop art" lies cluttered.

Huge, unwinding rolls of canvas dyed violent pink, orange, and apple green are stacked around the walls.

Colossal flat pieces of canvas, already imprinted with inky silk-screen images, flap like a giant's laundry from their temporary staples on seven-foot-high stretchers.

Tables, chairs, couch, and floor are strewn with Continued

on next page

tabloids and fan magazines. On one wall, with surprising super-market neatness, are other "pop art" props: cans of soup and pineapple juice.

Now thirty-three, Andrew Warhol was born in Philadelphia, went to Carnegie Institute of Technology's art school, and made his living drawing shoes for advertisements and by doing window displays. The art world first noticed him because of his paintings of oversized Coca-Cola bottles and six-foot-high cans of Campbell's Soup. He made landscapes blossom with the numbers of "Do-It-Yourself" kits and made huge black-and-white blowups of dance-step diagrams, strident tabloids, and the crude before-and-after profiles of advertisements for plastic surgery of the nose.

Then, in part because of the limitations of work space and in part because he felt even his own anonymous painting style was too individualistic, he began to silk-screen his images. This silk-screen process allowed him to make small, endless, exact repetitions of an image on a tremendous canvas. The reiteration refers, of course, not only to a sense of sequence in time, like frames of a movie, but to the way the world mass-produces and mass-distributes in absolutely impersonal terms products and people-symbols, even birth and death.

Roy Lichtenstein, at thirty-nine, is a cool, neat, slight man, with pale-blue eyes, pale sandy hair, a rather linear smile, and a face that seems as angular as comic-strip-hero Dick Tracy's. He gives the immediate impression of being cerebral rather than intuitive, and so is his art. Like Warhol and Rosenquist, he has rejected the bravura, the subjectively revealing slap and dash technique of the abstract expressionists, deliberately turning to impersonal techniques of mechanical reproduction. But he does not imitate these techniques.

With skill and some irony, he recalls them and adapts them. His palette often consists of the harsh primary colours of colour engraving. Sometimes he will use

only one colour, alluding to its economy in commercial art. Lichtenstein forces our focus on the symbols of things, especially in his comic-strip and "ad" -derived paintings, thus reminding us how real emotion and real situations have become submerged in banal, conventionalized descriptions.

It is not only the giant scale of his work that makes us take notice. It is the intensity, the strengthening, the dramatizing and the exaggeration, the elimination and the vitalization of his sources that make his paintings of isolated objects seem more like the actual things than the things themselves. When he is at his best, he transforms the comic strips and mindless cliches of American-girl images a step beyond supercaricature or satire into concentrated works of art.

Simultaneously, he develops pictorial possibilities: his "Golf Ball" has a splendid inner rhythm. In "Ice Cream Soda," he has handsomely exploited the curves and the Art-Nouveau-shaped highlights of a commonplace glass. Lichtenstein's paintings not only claim attention: they hold attention. Whether you like them or not, they haunt you. And they retain their forcefulness on repeated viewings.

For me, James Rosenquist is the best of the "pop art" artists. Born thirty years ago in North Dakota, he has round blue eyes, a quiet voice, and is shy, touchingly earnest. In North Dakota, he painted signs on enormous gas tanks. The foreman of an advertising sign crew told him: "You haven't got the swing." He learned it. A year later, he landed a job with that crew, painting billboards as a member of the "Sign Painters and Display Union." He went from art schools to work on billboards in Times Square, New York, before he settled on painting.

As we speed in cars and planes, as we are bombarded with movie and television close-ups, as we riffle through magazines, we are confronted everywhere with the enlarged detail. For all of us the fragmentary

view is the usual twentieth-century experience. For Rosenquist, the fragment has particular immediacy and possibilities. His billboard experience was strategic.

When he covered huge areas, 196 feet long and fifty-eight feet high, or transposed a life-size photograph of movie star Jane Fonda until there were twenty-one feet between chin and forehead, he saw images as huge arabesques. "The face became a strange geography, the nose like a map of Yugoslavia-you see gigantic relationships, you see only fragments of things." Now he is off the scaffold, but he b~lieves we still see in fragments: not the whole car, but the driver's clenched hands or a fender. In a personal encounter, not the whole person, but the sleeve, the curve of a chin-and always, "the mind runs through."

Rosenquist rejects expressionism and romanticism; his objective, controlled technique, is a reflection of, rather than an imitation of, commercial art. His fragments-the colossal candy Life-Saver, the grille of a Ford, a patterned tyre-are never mere blowups.

They have been recreated with new vividness. At his best, the montage is neither an additive total nor a homogenized whole. It is an artistic synthesis.

One wonders why the controversy about "pop" artists and this kind of art is so inflamed. Perhaps it is because the painters are painting truths hard to take.

Perhaps the answer lies in the astute reflection of Lawrence Alloway, curator of the Guggenheim, who, in addition to doing the Guggenheim show, is inventor of the phrase "pop art" and a perceptive writer on its practitioners. In the foreword of the Guggenheim catalogue he wrote: "The conjunction of the onceseparated areas of high and popular culture has embarrassed writers whose fortunes and status are identified with the care of high art." Perhaps one must be, like myself, someone not only familiar with, but frankly admiring of many aspects of popular culture and popular art forms in order to enjoy this new collision. •

Photographs

by

JANE TROXELL STARK

Courtesy of Look Magazine

Ample folds,

worthy

of the traditional

"pugree."

THE

TURBAN RETURNS

, f

,f

Change is the key word ill.American fashion news. One year hemlines are knee length; the next year the fashionable woman must wear her hems one-and-a-half inches below the knee. If straight lines are decreed by designers this year, next year they will give way to more figure-fitting lines. Husbands grumble when the bills arriveand smile happily when the lady appears in her new finery. This winter, the shirtwaist suit has captured wide interest because of its simplicity and versatility. And this year it is topped by the the Indian headdress turban, which has made frequent appearances on the American fashion scene for m0t:e than thirty years.

FIFTEEN HOURS OF TIGER WATCHING The need for preservation of wild life in India has been underlined by the dwindling numbers of many animal and bird species. Government has emphasized this need and earmarked several areas as wild life sanctuaries. This article describes the work of an American who is studying animal behaviour in Madhya Pradesh and makes a strong plea for conservation of this valuable natural resource.

AWN IN THE Kanha National Park of Madhya Pradesh. A lovely mist lies on the meadows below the hills. Doves and peacocks call in the forest. In a forest glade, a tigress and four cubs feed on an Indian bison the tigress had killed. Eighty feet away, behind a towering Sal tree, a young man calmly observes them. He is armed only with a pad and a pencil. For more than fifteen consecutive hours, in daylight, half-light and moonlight, he has watched the tigers feasting and playing; watched the mother guiding and grooming her young: and he has taken notes. Fifteen hours in full view, (once they took a between-course stroll to within thirty feet of him)-a rare and valuable opportunity to record every action of the beautiful beasts. After a while, the great cats are satisfied, and amble out of sight through the tall grass to rest in the shade during the hot midday hours. Only then does the young man leave his place of concealment and

D

walk home through the forest.

He is Dr. George B. Schaller, a thirtyone year old American zoologist who has been living in the Kanha National Park since December 1963 with his wife, Kay, and their two small sons.

Dr. Schaller is one of a fifteen-man team of scientists from the Johns Hopkins University of Baltimore, Maryland, who, with the financial backing of the U.S. National Institutes of Health, have established a Centre for Medical Research and Training in Calcutta. The majority of the scientists are working on such disease problems as the treatment of cholera, but three-like Dr. Schaller-are ecologists who spend most of their time in the field studying the behaviour of animals.

Dr. Schaller came to India more than a year ago with a distinguished record of achievement in his field. After earning his doctorate in zoology at the University of Wisconsin, he studied wild animals in Alaska for several years, then spent 1959

and 1960 in the Congo and Uganda observing, at remarkably close range, the daily life of free-living mountain gorillas.

His voluminous report, The Mountain Gorilla: Ecology and Behaviour-widely acclaimed by fellow scientists-was followed this year by a more personal account, The Year of the Gorilla. which one leading American reviewer called "bright, fresh ... fascinating ... one of the best animal books in years."

George Schaller appears well qualified to study the wild animals of India, but why is a knowledge of their habits so important?

Consider, for example, the Rinderpest Eradication Programme of the Indian Government. Rinderpest, a virulent virus disease, attacks hoofed animals, especially cattle. Dr. Schaller says it is probable that wild hoofed animals are carriers of the disease and that it cannot be controlled completely until we have some idea to what extent the virus is transmitted

from domestic to wild animals and vice versa. One means of preventing the disease from spreading is to establish game reserves from which cattle are excluded.

But how big should the game reserve be?

This is for the zoologist to decide. But before he can do that he must determine the social organization of the various wild animals, the extent of their wandering, what they eat-in general, their habits from day to day and from season to season.

"There must be an intelligent compromise between areas managed for domestic animals and areas for wild life," Dr. Schaller insists. "There is intense competition between domestic and wild animals for food all over India. A given area can support just so many pounds of animal, and when this carrying capacity is exceeded, the result is not only a decline in the animal population but a deterioration of the habitat-the forest-as well."

Wild life in India, as in other parts

of the world, is declining rapidly and some species are on the verge of extinction. Only some 300 lions are left in the country, all of them in the Gir forest of Gujarat, and only four to five hundred Indian rhinoceros remain in small, isolated areas. Even species which were common in many parts of India until twenty years ago are now rarely seen. Kanha Park, the site of Dr. Schaller's study, illustrates on a small scale the decline that has taken place nationally. Five years ago there were 500 graceful swamp deer in the park. Today there are only about seventy. Of ninety black buck antelope only sixteen remain.

These statistics are deeply disturbing to Dr. Schaller who maintains that wild life is a major resource for any country.

One of the earliest men to recognize the importance of nature conservation, he notes, was Emperor Asoka who, in one of his edicts, decreed that certain animals should be preserved. The late Prime

Minister Nehru said: "We must try to preserve whatever is left of our forests and the wild life that inhabits them."

Dr. Schaller points out that each year in the United States eighty million people, almost half the population, visit the national parks of their country for recreation. These are town and city dwellers who feel the deep need to get away for a while from the noise, the tension, and the problems of urban life. They seek relaxation and fresh inspiration in the midst of nature, and perhaps they rediscover themselves in the forest, in the wilderness that remains. Dr. Schaller firmly believes that as India develops, more and more people will want to visit national parks and wild life sanctuaries.

Reverence for life, the aesthetic appeal of seeing animals in their natural state: these are reasons enough for many people to conserve wild animals and the forests they inhabit. But material benefits autoContinued on next page

Dr. George Schaller, American zoologist, specializes in studying animal behaviour.

FIFTEEN TIGER

HOURS

WATCHING

OF

Continued

Conservation of all natural resources, including animals, is essential to a country's survival. Indiscriminate destruction must be prevented. matically accrue. In Kenya, for example, tourism is the second largest industry, and the main attraction is the wild game.

On the other hand, the unique fauna and flora of India is little publicized, Dr. Schaller says, with the result that many tourists are unaware that wild life can be viewed with relative ease in many areas. E. P. Gee, the foremost authority on Indian conservation matters, considers the Kanha National Park the finest game reserve in the country; yet only a halfdozen parties of foreign tourists visited it last year.

No hunting, of course, is allowed in Kanha Park. But Dr. Schaller says there are vast forest areas now almost devoid of wild life because of indiscriminate poaching, which, if properly managed, could produce a large crop of big game.

This crop, Schaller believes, could be harvested under control to provide meat for the local population and sport for visitors from all over the world.

The problem is far from solved with the realization that conservation of all its natural resources is essential to the survival of a country.

"You cannot conserve an animal," Dr. Schaller says, "until you know its entire life history." And so far, he notes,

not a single big game species has been thoroughly studied in India, most importantly because of a complete lack of personnel to carryon such work. He considers it imperative that Indian zoologists be sent abroad for training in this specialized field. Dr. Schaller is making a small beginning by teaching a University of Calcutta student, Ramesh De, some of the basic techniques.

In the meantime, Schaller himself is watching the yearly cycle of life in one small wild area of the central Indian highlands. Kanha National Park-122 square miles of heavily-forested hills and valleys lying at an average altitude of about 2,000 feet-is located in the Mandla district of Madhya Pradesh, south of Jabalpur. The Schallers live in the centre of the Park in a three-room bungalow.

Nearby is a comfortable tourist bungalow.

Dr. Schaller's main study area covers ten square miles around his house. His neighbours include about 600 cheetal deer, the park's most numerous big game species, swamp deer, sambar deer, black buck antelopes, Indian bison, wild pig, sloth bears, leopards and tigers.

The animals are primarily active in the early morning, in the evening, and at night. So Dr. Schaller is out on his rounds from dawn until mid-morning and from mid-afternoon until dark. He makes many observations from a Landrover, except during the monsoon season when only foot travel is possible. The Landrover is particularly useful, Dr. Schaller finds, because animals are not as frightened by a vehicle as by a man on foot. The object is to get as close as possible to the animals without disturbing them.

"Each creature has its own distance at which it will take flight from an intruder," Dr. Schaller writes in The Year of the Gorilla. "And each will allow itself to be approached only so far before defending itself. It behoves man to learn the responses of each species; until he has done so, and is familiar with the sights, sounds and smells around him, there is an element of danger."

Yet Dr. Schaller goes about his work unarmed. He believes that even the possession of a firearm is enough to infect one's behaviour with a certain unconscious aggressiveness, which an animal can detect. And if an animal does not feel itself menaced it is not likely to attack.

Stationing himself as close as he can to, for example, a herd of swamp deer, without disturbing them, Dr. Schaller brings them closer with binoculars and a spotting scope. He studies the composition of the herd. How many adult males Continued on page 42

A study of the inter-relationship between animals and their environment) while of intense interest) is a complex endeavour. Nature is never static and there are no final answers. and females are there? How many young?

What are they eating? Is the herd a stable unit or do individuals come and go?

These are some basic questions.

George Schaller is one of the few men in the world who can answer disarmingly: "I know ten adult tigers individually."

The question was: How many are there in his study area?

The ability to recognize individual animals is essential in a detailed study of their social behaviour. In mountain gorilla country, Schaller had little trouble in recognizing old friends even after an absence of several months.

Recognizing an old tiger friend is even easier. Tiger stripes or markings are like fingerprints. No two are ever exactly alike.

A knowledge of tiger habits is, of course, essential in understanding the population dynamics of the animals on which the big cat preys. Which species furnish the bulk of its diet? How often does it kill? Does it kill more males than females? If an area is large enough, the predator and prey will tend to remain in balance. But if the area is too small, or if too much illegal hunting by man is added to the natural predation by the cats, this balance is readily upset with the result that the numbers of deer and antelope decline. In George Schaller's words: "To study the interrelationship between animals and their environment is a complex endeavour and there are no final answers. Nature is never static. Conditions change from year to year, even in

the same area. But it is essential that a background of knowledge about India's wild life be accumulated immediately if a remnant is to be preserved.

"The whole problem is one of human ecology," Dr. Schaller eloquently concludes. "Man is conquering the diseases that once kept his population in check and he is spreading his sway, exterminating other animals and exhausting the soil.

With the same mentality that once enabled him to vanquish the lion and the bear, he is trying to subdue nature, sacrificing the eternal for the expedient.

The destruction of the earth lies at his whim and cunning, yet he does not realize, does not feel, that he is not separate from but one with plants and animals, rock and water." •

NEW KNOWLEDGE FOR PUNJAB FARMERS NOW in the middle of the fight for food production, says Mr. P. N. Thapar, the dynamic Vice Chancellor of Punjab Agricultural University (PAD). Winning the food battle has top priority for India today, Mr. Thapar believes, and he sees up-to-date, scientific farming knowledge as a key weapon in the fight.

In 1950 a commission headed by India's present President, Dr. Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan, pointed out the great gap between what India required and what education offered. The report pointed out that seventy per cent of Indians live on the land and that agriculture accounts for half of India's national income-hence the need in education to put greater emphasis on agricultural development and solution of the problems of rural life.

One approach to the problem is the development of contacts with people in the villages. These contacts can be established by Continued on next page

W

EARE

For success in India's efforts to increase food production, agriculture must be modernized.

Agricultural universities have a vital role in this great national undertaking.

Curriculum lays emphasis on interrelation of teaching) research and extension service. co-ordinating teaching, research, and extension services in rural areas. Establishment of Punjab Agricultural University is an important contribution to the growth of modern agricultural education facilities in India-and in keeping with the Radhakrishnan Commission's recommendations.

Integration of teaching, research, and extension education is a characteristic feature of PAU and the other new agricultural universities springing up around this country, as it is of the U.S. land-grant colleges after which they are patterned.

The land-grant colleges are the product of the Morrill Act, signed into law by President Abraham Lincoln in 1862. This Act established in each State "at least one college where the leading object shall be, without excluding other scientific and classical studies ... to teach such branches of learning as are related to agriculture and mechanic arts, in order to promote liberal and practical education." A similar agricultural education network is spreading across India which now has seven agricultural universities including PAU. India is one of seventeen nations of Asia, Africa, and Latin America which, with the support of the United States Agency for International Development (U.S.A.I.D.), are receiving assistance from twenty-two U.S. land-grant colleges in the field of agriculture. All seven Indian agricultural universities are assisted

by U.S.A.I.D. and have contracts with various sister institutions in the United States; Punjab's contract is with the Ohio State University (OSU).

PAU had to be built from scratch; the only institution of agricultural education in Punjab at partition was left on the other side of the border, at Lyallpur. From a makeshift little college in a rented building PAU has grown to a fullfledged university. It now has campuses at Ludhiana and Hissar and its responsibilities cover the entire Punjab.

PAU, with headquarters at Ludhiana, is planned to be a relatively small, self-contained university with constituent colleges rather than a large number of affiliated institutions. There are three constituent colleges at present: two Colleges of Agriculture at Ludhiana and Hissar; a College of Veterinary and Animal Sciences is also located at Hissar. The two agricultural colleges are integrated with six sections (branches of study), common to both.

In various stages of preparation are a College of Basic Sciences and Humanities (some departments of which have started functioning), an Agricultural Engineering College, a Home Science College. Professor Wilbur B. Wood, leader of the OSU team at the university, emphasizes the importance of PAU's integrated programme of resident teaching, research, and extension based) on the interests and needs of the cultivators and home-makers of Punjab.

It is by this process, he says, that PAU can serve rural Punjab effectively in increasing agricultural production. He emphasizes further that agriculture and home science are thought of as forming part of the same package, and looks forward to the establishment of the Home Science College, now in the building stage at PAU. The top-level body in the conduct of university affairs is the thirty-member Board of Management. The university staff includes some fifty-five Ph.Ds. many of them trained at landgrant institutions in the United States.

The number of students has grown from 200 to more

University's Vice Chancellor P. N. Thapar believes scientific farming knowledge can help win the grim battle for increased food production.

Students supplement their classroom studies of soil, plant breeding and

Gursham Singh, left, is Dean of College of Agriculture, Ludhiana.

Right, Rattan Singh, a farmer, grows hybrid seeds commercial/y.

James P. Chapman, U.S.A.I.D. agricultural information specialist, reviews university journal with Harkirat Singh, Information Officer.

than 900 with 220 studying for their master's degree and four for doctorates.

A distinctive feature of the study programme at PAU is close relationship between teaching, research, and extension education: faculty members often work in all three areas, and students for master's degrees and Ph.Ds. are also assigned to research projects.

In teaching-research-extension co-ordination, Punjab is a leader. "It is the only State where the university has the whole responsibility for all three," says Dr. J. S. Kanwar, Director of Research. Unlike other agricultural universities, PAU has been handed full responsibility for both research and extension education for all of Punjab State.

At the Hissar campus 2,100 acres and at Ludhiana 1,500 acres are available for agricultural research conducted by the university. But this is not all. Beyond the two campuses a dozen regional research stations dot the plains and hills of the State.

Research grants support 114 projects in a wide variety of agricultural experimentation. The grants flow from many sources: the Punjab Government, the Central Government's commodity committees, the Indian Council of Agricultural Research, American foundations such as Rockefeller and Ford..• the U.S. Food for Peace (Public Law 480) programme. Most research projects are aided by at least two different sources; PL-480 grants are helping ten.

One of the most striking and unusual research projects at Ludhiana is a study of the physiology of the cattle and buffalo rumen-the large first compartment of the animal's stomach.

Factors which affect the utilization of low-grade fodder roughages are studied, and the inclusion of both cattle and buffaloes enables comparisons to be made between the two. The possession of twin calves of the Sahiwal breed has made possible an even further refinement in comparative study.

In the field of plant study, subjects of research at PAU range from sugar-cane to linseed, and include cowpeas, fenugreek, cotton, rice, wheat, maize, and bajra (pearl millet). Other research projects at the university cover biochemistry, soil science, agricultural chemistry, plant diseases and pests, farm implements, agricultural economics, livestock and livestock diseases.

The advances in bajra research are typical of the experimentation being carried out at PAU. One of the most droughtresistant and pest-free of cereals, bajra is the staple crop in coarse, arid soils which will not sustain cereals like wheat, rice, and maize. The third-largest area in Punjab and the fourthlargest in India planted with any crop is under bajra. Yet its average yield is among the lowest of all cereals in the State and in the nation.

Intensive research into the improvement of bajra has been carried out at PAU under the direction of Dr. D. S. Athwal, head of the plant-breeding section. A collection of several hundred varieties of bajra has been built up by procuring seed from other States in India as well as from abroad, particularly from Mrica and the State of Georgia, U.S.A. Research at Ludhiana is in an advanced stage for the development of bajra hybrids with high yield and one or more desirable characteristics: bristling, dwarfing, pearly amber grains, sweet juicy stems. Birds do extensive damage to the crop at maturity, and bristled bajra has been found to repel them. Dwarf varieties have good standing ability, respond to heavy manuring, and are suited to mechanical harvesting. Bajra currently grown in India yields blue or slate-coloured grains; chapatis or porridge prepared from pearly amber grains would be not only whiter and more attractive-looking but also better-tasting. Sweet juicy stems make for greater palatability of the fodder.

Persistent efforts and planned breeding at PAU are helping Continued on next page

University has vital role in carrying knowledge of modern techniques to Punjab farmers. to develop bajra hybrids with these advantageous characteristics.

The research programme is heading towards proof that bajra. which used to be thought less capable of improvement, actually offers greater scope than most other crops. "Our latest developments, particularly at Ludhiana, have shown tremendous possibilities," says Dr. Athwal.

The third important branch of PAU activity is extension education-carrying agricultural knowledge to the rural people.

There is a Farm Advisory Service spread throughout the State. At the top, under the university's Director of Extension, Dr. Kirpal Singh, are four extension specialists-in agronomy, horticulture, plant protection, and soil science. Similarly there are four specialists assigned to each district, known as assistant extension specialists. While these are directly responsible to the district agricultural officer, they are members of the university staff and their technical recommendations come from the university and its extension specialists.

About thirty centres to demonstrate modern farm techniques are being set up in each district-about three to each block.

Each demonstration centre includes a family's entire holding, adopted for overall improvement. The district extension specialists work out a cropping pattern, keeping in view the family's resources which vary from centre to centre.

The programme lasts two to three years. "These centres are the windows on the advances attained by the university researchers," says Dr. Kirpal Singh. With the application of modern ideas in agricultural practice, they are able to show "measurable improvement in a short time."

To keep such a programme going requires a steady flow of district-level assistant extension specialists. This is not easy, because of the shortage of qualified people. To ease this shortage, the assistant extension specialists (most of whom are Bachelors of Science in Agriculture) are freely brought to the university to give them a chance of acquiring their master's degree.

On a short term basis, farmers' training camps are held in the slack seasons (August and September, February and March), either at the university research farm or the district farm.

Groups of some fifty representative farmers attend, and research officers are sometimes brought in to discuss their special subjects.

Farmers are eager to use such meetings to maximum advantage. "One sugar-cane research man was kept on his feet for three-and-a-half hours," Dr. Kirpal Singh recalls.

These district-level camps are followed up by shorter camps at the block level. At these, farmers who have attended the district camps become speakers, broadcasting the message of better and more efficient farming throughout the countryside.

At the same time, various courses are also held at the university for Agriculture Department officials; PAU officials; for officials of other departments such as community development, co-operatives, education, and even prisons (there is an excellent Jail Farm at Amritsar); and for non-officials (mainly farmers, but also youth leaders, women, and others). In all there were forty such courses in 1962-63, with a total of more than one thousand participants.

The press is also a medium for spreading the word of agricultural advance. Printed publications form part of PAU's extension activity. A popular bimonthly in English, Punjabi and Hindi, and a quarterly research journal are published. Publication of research bulletins and farm bulletins is being considered.

The importance of good management is coming to be

Dr. Neal R. Carpenter. farm management adviser to university. lectures to class of post-graduate students in farm management.

increasingly recognized in agriculture as in other. fields of enterprise. An innovation at PAU is a master's degree course in farm management. Each .student of this course is assigned to a leading farmer in or around Ludhiana, more or less as an apprentice.

He studies closely the working of the farm he is assigned to, and for the two-year period keeps a full business record of its operation. This gives him valuable experience in the practical aspects of operating a farm. The farmer, in turn, benefits from this contact with the university.

Who are the students at PAD? They come from all over India, though most of them, naturally, are from Punjab and nearby States. There are also a few from abroad-Thailand, Nepal, Malaysia, Kenya. Last year a Thai student topped the B.Sc. finals.

Vice Chancellor Thapar estimates that seventy to eighty per cent of the students at PAU are sons of practising farmers, and most of the rest are sons of people who own land but are engaged in other occupations. Does the university have a place for boys from the cities? Yes, he says, in subjects like agricultural economics, botany, horticulture, and biochemistry.

The eyes of rural India are opening fast. In conjw1ction with its courses for farmers, PAU also arranges educational trips for them. "When one group came back from such a trip to Bhakra," Mr. Thapar recounts, "they were so full of it-they told us: 'We wanted to embrace the workers there; we felt as if they were gurus.' " Farmers are notably conservative-in India as much as anywhere else. But, says Mr. Thapar, "there is nothing wrong with intelligent conservatism. We should not accept practices which have been successful elsewhere without testing them here."

On the other hand, as is obvious, there is plenty that can be learnt, in agriculture as in other fields of knowledge, from advances already made elsewhere. And, as Mr. Thapar put it, "Once you move an Indian cultivator from subsistence farming to progressive agriculture, he starts asking questions that only an expert can answer." To seek and be equipped to answer those questions is perhaps Punjab Agricultural University's greatest challenge. •

University lawns provide attractive setting for study. informal meetings with fellow students and members of the faculty.

This farm is typical of many in Punjab which are benefiting from the university extension programme.

At eighty-eight Baba Gurbachan Singh, a Punjabi farmer, takes enthusiastic interest in one of the university's extension courses.

A N D ALL the festivals on earth, the celebration of Christmas is unique in many respects. No other festival is so vital and universal, or has been celebrated by so many people for so many centuries in so many different lands.

For Americans, Christmas is the bestloved season of the year, and its ever inspiring message of "Peace on Earth to Men of Good Will" and "Joy to the World" has a special meaning for them. Whether in the snow-bound Great Plains towns of the Dakotas, or in the warm California sunshine, or in the large cities and extensive rural areas, the whole of the United States takes on a festive glow each December. Everywhere children and parents are exposed to dazzling displays of an amazing variety of gift suggestions in shop windows; package-laden buyersmove busily from store to store through streets decorated with lights, bells, evergreen trees and other symbols of the season.

Though the celebration takes different forms in different communities, every home in the U.S.-rich or poor, in a bustling metropolis or in a small village-is seized by a heightened spirit of friendliness, of warmth and gaiety, of love and laughter, of hospitality and goodwill. Wreaths of shiny green holly with bright red berries, tied with a glittering red bow, decorate the front door of many American houses. Every family, too, has its own Christmas tree and some, especially those living in the suburbs, may even have two-one growing outdoors and bedecked with lights, the other inside the house, under which are placed gifts in brightlycoloured wrappings.

A

To

MONG

joyousness of the world of arts in the U.S. makes its own special contribution.

Each year a wide range of cultural activities marks the American celebration of Christmas. Radio and television broadcast special programmes and regular programmes take on Christmas themes; galleries and museums organize special exhibits; orchestras and oratorio societies throughout the country present seasonal programmes of religious music. Playhouses, notably on Broadway and off-Broadway, are packed.

Yet another, and perhaps most important, aspect of the arts in the U.S. is the world of books, whose sales figures take a sharp THE

ALL-PERVASIVE

1Christmas,

T H E upswing during the Christmas season. Many Americans believe that the gift of the right book to the right person is often the best way to say Merry Christmas. It is towards "Santa's workshop" that U.S. publishers direct their year-long efforts to plan and publish handsome gift editions. Book review sections of newspapers such as The New York Times and The New York Herald Tribune bring out special issues and suggest, in the form of a Christmas guide, the high points in the main fields of reader interest.

The U.S. publishes more than twenty thousand titles annually, in addition to the much more numerous publications in paperback editions. Below is a sampling of books, published during the year, which are expected to be in great demand for gifts this season.

Fiction: A Mother's Kisses, second novel

by Bruce Jay Friedman; and the long-awaited Herzog by Saul Bellow, one of the most famous American novelists of this generation. Another highly acclaimed work is The Martyred by Richard E. Kim, which Nobel Prize-winner Pearl Buck has hailed as "extraordinary" and "a major achievement."

Non-fiction: One of the most significant publications of the year is Ernest Hemingway's A Moveable Feast, published posthumously and drawn from the numerous unpublished works and fragments found after the author's death. Here, after a lapse of forty years, Hemingway reminisces about his life as a young writer in Paris, learning his trade and watching, then unknowingly, the pre-dawn of his world recognition.

Books on or by John F. Kennedy-the memory of whose tragic death last year is still fresh in the minds of Americans-will also be greatly popular. These include, notably, The Burden and the Glory, which discusses the hopes and purposes of the late President's second and third years in office as revealed in his public statements and addresses. The volume is edited by Allan Nevins and has a foreword by President Lyndon B. Johnson.

There is also a new and memorial edition of John F. Kennedy's well-known Profiles in Courage, with a specially written foreword by his brother Robert F. Kennedy. Among the several new books on Kennedy are A Day in the Life of President Kennedy by J. A. Bishop, A Tribute to John F. Kennedy

by Salinger and Vanocur, and The Kennedy

A R T,

S

T

HE BOOK TRADE is of a relatively recent origin. But the theatre has proved over the centuries to be the most traditional vehicle for celebrating the birth of Christ.

This tradition to recreate the true spirit of Christmas in the dramatic form continues in America, where more groups stage more plays and pageants during the Christmas season than at any other period of the year.

In addition to regular programmes on the professional stage, amateur groups of adults and school-children throughout the country present a wide variety of plays and pageants which treat the Christmas theme with solemnity, sincerity and dignity.

B

UT THE MOST potent medium to recapture the universal Christmas spirit of joy and hope is music, which adds its special charm and colour to American Christmas celebrations. Long before December 25, carols echo in stores and shopping centres, and on radio and television, as a pleasant prelude to the approaching festive days.

The musical performances which usually mark the U.S. Christmas event are special programmes by leading symphony orchestras and presentation of liturgical music by oratorio societies from all parts of the country.

An outstanding example of this music is Handel's "Messiah," with the well-known "Hallelujah!" chorus, whose Christmas rendition by the Oratorio Society of New York has become a traditional feature. Another traditional holiday musical event in New York is "L'Enfance du Christ," a choral work

by Berlioz.

The standard Christmas offerings also include a now famous opera, Gian-Carlo Menotti's Amah! and the Night Visitors, which has become an annual classic on TV: This moving story of Amahl, a little crippled boy, and the gift-bearing Magi has proved so popular with U.S. audiences that, before its customary ,)1ationwide telecast, the opera is taken on tour to several cities.

In addition to its presentation on the stage or in church, appropriate Christmas music is available in long-playing records. The beautiful strains of the traditional carols"Silent Night," "0, Come All Ye Faithful," "The First Noel," "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing"-performed by choirs, soloists, and

popular singers, compete for attention with such noisy banalities as "Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer" and "All's I Want for Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth!"

HE AIR OF expectancy which pervades all Christmas preparations is nowhere greater than in the minds of children.

Christmas, most particularly, is a festival for the children because it commemorates the birth of the Christ child. The greatest attraction, of course, is the arrival of the mythical Santa Claus, that ruddy-faced, smiling old elf with his red suit and snow-white whiskers, who once a year brings a land of enchantment to children everywhere.

"Please tell me the truth, is there a Santa Claus?" Once an eight-year-old American girl put this question to the editor of a New York newspaper in 1897. "Yes, Virginia," replied the editor, "there is a Santa Claus.

He exists as certainly as love, and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy .... No Santa Claus! Thank God he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood."

If Santa Claus exists-and he certainly does-his agents are parents, on whom falls the pleasant duty to buy toys and clothes and books for their children. In its variety and quantity the American world of gifts for children is so overwhelming that the parents' task to make a qualitative selection becomes very hard indeed. Here is a random choice from many hundreds of children's books published during the year, which are expected to appear in thousands of homes this Christmas.

Pleasant Fieldmouse (Harper & Row, New York and Evanston), by Jan WaW and illustrated by Maurice Sendak, is a charming book for the five-to-eight age group. Its brave and optimistic hero, Pleasant Fieldmouse, is a self-appointed benefactor to a community of amiable, eccentric animals. He saves endangered lives, protects the forest from fire and is a messenger of goodwill. Maurice Sendak's black-and-white illustrations, which bring every blade of grass and each butterfly to sudden life, greatly enhance the book's interest.

Of an entirely different nature, though also for the same age group, is When Cave Men

T

With gift of many good books. this "Santa Claus" says Merry Christmas.

Painted (Charles Scribner's Sons, New York), written and illustrated by Norman Bate. This fanciful account of two cave painters, a boy and an old man, was inspired originally by the sight of an impressively drawn woolly rhinoceros which Mr. Bate discovered in a primitive wall painting. Here too, attractive illustrations complement the text: strong and broadly patterned, they evoke the magic of the primitive cave art.

A book that fits the Christmas spirit admirably is Candle Tales (Pantheon Books, New York) which, meant for ages eight to eleven, is written by Julia Cunningham and illustrated

by Evaline Ness. It tells a delightful fable about a lonely old avaricious candle-maker called Mr. Minklin and six lovable animals of contrasting personalities: a squirrel, a mouse, a dog, a cat, a gull and a pig. The six animals, who lived in Mr. Minklin's woodshed, once heard the old man wondering in a nostalgic vein if he could have a birth anniversary of his own. And he did finally have it, thanks to an ingenious scheme by the animals. Several illustrations add greatly to the overall poetic charm of the story.

The Earliest Americans (The World Publishing Company, Cleveland and New York), written and illustrated by Cleveland's Natural Science Museum director William E. Scheele, is a highly informative and interesting book for children of ages nine to thirteen. It is an engrossing account of the numerous archaeological sites in America and discoveries relating to the earliest inhabitants of the land. Such is the power and effectiveness of Mr. Scheele's descriptive method that what could otherwise have become a dull book of factual scientific information acquires here the quality of a suspenseful mystery narrative. Drawings and diagrams accompany the text.

But not aU such books deal with the exclusive theme of America. Many generate an awareness of the world outside in the minds of young Americans. One of these is Seafarers of the Pacific (The World Publishing Company) which, intended for the age group twelve to sixteen, is written by Douglas Newton and illustrated by W. T. Mars.

Mr. Newton gives here a brief but comprehensive account of the Polynesian way of life and its complex diversities. The illustrations portray the scenery and characteristic spirit of this land, often called by some "an earthly paradise." •