SPAN: December 1969

SPAN

Ocean Treasure

2

by Preminda Premchand

Bombay Welcomes the Moon Heroes

8

by Khushwant Singh

Communication and Development

12

bl' [thiel de Sola Pool

Bridging the Communication Gap Williamsburg: City for All Seasons

16

20

by Joseph Judge

Steinbeck and Hemingway

34

by Peter Lisea

Agriculture Cannot Wait

38

by V.S. Handa

Clad in a psychedelic-print dress, a girl meditates against a background with a psychedelic light motif. For a story and pictures on the new art form, see pages 44-48.

Photo courtesy Crown-Zellerbach.

On the shores of Cochin, Chinese fishing nets hang like giant cobwebs against the golden sunlight.

A. story on Kerala's flourishing sea food industry hegins on page 2.

Photograph by Avinash Pasricha.

W.D. Miller,Publisher; Catherine S. Scott, Editor; V.S. Nanda, Mg. Editor.

Editorial Staff: Carmen Kagal, Avinash Pasricha, Nirmal K. Sharma, Krishan G. Gabrani, P.R. Gupta. Art Staff: B. Roy Choudhury, Nand K. Katyal, Kanti Roy, Kuldip Singh Jus, Gopi Gajwani. Production Staff: Awtar S. Marwaha, 'Mammen Philip. Photographic Services:USIS Photo Lab. Published by the United States Information Service, Bahawalpur House, SikandI'a Road, New Delhi, on behalf of the American Embassy, N! D!lhi. PrIll/I'd by Mun Mehta at aldl &. ons Pvt. Ltd., Narandas Building, Sprott Road, 18 Ballard Estate, Bombay-!.

Ie

Manuscripts and photographs sent for publication must be accompaQied by stamped, self-addressed envelope for return. SpAN' is not responsible for any loss in transit. Use of'SPAN articles in other publications is encouraged except when they are copyrighted. For details, write to the ~ditor, SPAN. Subscription: One year, rupees five; single copy, fifty paise. For change of address, send old address from a recent SPAN envelope along with new address to A.;r<.. Mitra, Circulation

Mnllngurl 1\\10\\18ix woen for Uhllllyg of llddmg

t15

b~ ~ IT l;ve.

Bombay's Azad Maidan turns into a sea of humanity as more than hal{-a-million people gather fo greet the three American moon heroes.

SPAN OF EVENTS The mammoth civic reception to the U.S. astronauts in Bombay has been compared in size and grandeur to the city's welcome to the highest visiting dignitaries. At right, Neil Armstrong, with Edwin Aldrin and Michael Collins seated

b~hind, ~pmll{Qfrom tll~ m

0 -

haped platform.

ONCE UPON A TIME,so legend says, the have added new legends to Kerala's folkgreat god Parasurama hurled a golden axe lore-ones that tell of phenomenal sucfrom a high southern mountain to create a cesses achieved practically overnight, as if paradise for man. The sea receded to where to fulfil Parasurama's ancient promise.

Well-established commercial firms, sevit fell, and in between, arose an enchanted land called Kerala. There, Nature lavished eral Central and State Government instituher treasures upon Kerala's shores and into tions, and substantial foreign assistance its seas so that the people would prosper. have contributed to the success of Kerala's Indeed, from the time of King Solomon, fishing industry. The Indian and NorweKerala has lured travellers and traders to gian Governments, with the United Naits golden beaches and emerald backwaters. tions as a signatory, launched a project Traces of these ancient landings still re- about 17years ago that first helped to bring main in the clock towers, churches, flag- affluence to the old coastal town of Quilon. stone streets, and in the Chinese fishing It began with a small community developnets that still hug the shores of Cochin like ment project to improve the socio-ecogiant cobwebs-reminders that for cen- nomic conditions of the Quilon fisherfolk. turies the sea has been Kerala's gateway Child welfare and maternity clinics were set up to raise health and hygiene standto prosperity.

Off Kerala are some of the richest fish- ards. New fishing methods were introducing grounds in the world. The 300-mile ed. The requisite equipment, shore instalcoastline, 200 square miles of backwaters, lations and training vessels were provided.

3,000 miles of rivers and canals, and more Conditions improved so rapidly that withthan 10,000 acres of paddy-field prawn fil- in a period of 10 years the average family tration grounds, all contribute over 25 per income shot up from Rs. 500 a year to cent ofIndia's total marine catch with some about Rs. 3,000. One of the most signi3.2 lakh tonnes of annual fish production. ficant contributions to Kerala's fishing The people of Kerala have been quick to industry has been the Indo-Norwegian prorealize the potential of the sea. They have ject's deep sea explorations for new fishing reaped rich harvests, seized every oppor- grounds. Director Devi Das Menon extunity to improve their prospects, and have plained that "one of the most interesting already pushed Kerala's fish export figure things we have achieved is to locate treto the Rs. 25 crore mark. mendous resources of deep sea prawn and Success stories are plentiful in Kerala. lobster beds. This is a major development, Practically everywhere-in the sunny fish- because so far the industry has been relying ing hamlets of thatch-roofed huts and pic- on inshore or shallow water regions near turesque little towns-there are signs of the coasts." the new affluence: a showy wrist watch, Exploratory fishing is a continuous protransistor radios, and vendors of baubles cess. The Deep Sea Fishing Station at and beads waiting to entice customers as Bombay's Sassoon Docks underlines this the fishing boats come¡in. It is noticeable statement by the work it has been carrying too, in the number of automobiles and in out since 1946. Originally equipped with the bright new buildings. There are people mine sweepers converted into trawlers, this like Augustine of Muttom village, who Government of India operation acquired has exchanged his sails for motorpowered some large, well-equipped, 100-foot trawlkattamarams, and who, like many others in ers in 1964, that had been given earlier to his village, was weaned away by the United the West Bengal Government by the United Nations' Food and Agriculture Organiza- States Technical Co-operation Mission. tion from traditional methods of fishing With these, the Deep Sea Fishing Station used for centuries by most of Kerala's was able to chart the seas systematically on 83,000fisherfolk and encouraged to experi- the western coast along the continental shelf, ment in new methods. There are men like search for new fishing grounds and estabK. Kochunny of Ernakulam, who was once lish evidence of the types of fish available. a middleman fishmerchant but now exports Soon a few imported vessels and several two lakh worth of processed fish to the new trawlers manufactured in India and United States every few months. And there equipped with latest electronic navigational are the Vincents and 'Baby Johns' who instruments will be added to the fleet.

The Sassoon Docks are being enlarged to provide for the increased traffic caused by the ever-growing fish industry. Improvements are being carried out in cold storage, dry dock, slipway and repair facilities. Information and advice acquired by the DSFS is made available to people within the industry. "Private enterprise is very interested in our work, and we have our hands full with requests for information," reported Deputy Director Pradip Tagore.

Three United Nations experts are presently assisting India's deep sea fishing operations through the FAO. Helge Jakobsson, a masterfisherman from Iceland, has already completed making two enormous 'purse seine' fishing nets, fabricated for the first time in India, to be used in deep waters by one of the DSFS's new trawlers.

The new technique will enable larger catches far off shore. Mr. G. Sigurdsson, also from Iceland, has considerable experience in gill netting and has been training people in this deep sea technique. An expert in tuna long lining from Taiwan, Capt.

Chi Yun Pao, is carrying out experiments to develop tuna fishing from Cochin's Off Shore Fishing Station. If he is successful, this will open a whole new area of export potential. Encouraged by his work, Indian industrialists are already seeking expert advice on setting up the tuna industry.

Prawn fishing is currently the most thriving industry in Kerala, constituting about 5 per cent of the total fish landings and earning valuable foreign exchange worth several crores. The largest market for Indian prawns is the United States, where an almost insatiable demand exists for canned and frozen fish. Kerala's pink shrimp, free from iodic taste and known as the 'aristocrat of the oceans,' constitutes. in fact a gourmet sea food product for American supermarkets.

Cochin is the pioneer and home of India's canned and frozen sea food industry. Until a few years ago Cochin dried, pulped and pickled its shrimp, exporting surplus supplies only to Burma, Hong Kong and Singapore. Today many modern factories line its inland bays and islands.

They turn out canned and frozen products for markets in the U.S., Europe and Japan that include not only many select varieties of shrimp, but also mackerel, lobsters and continued

Mackerel and sardines are abundant in Kerala coastal waters. The industry is making efforts to reduce high canning costs to make Indian products competitive.

Hundreds of modem factories line the backwaters of Cochin where rich harvests of shrimp are canned for export.

deferred payment terms for the foreign exchange required to buy machinery for equipping a modern food freezing plant at Cochin's Vypeen Island. Soon everything produced in the Cochin area was sold.

Business prospered. India's canned and frozen sea foods gained a fine reputation in foreign markets. But to continue successfrogs' legs. One of the first quick-freezing fully it was necessary to ensure that proplants to be set up was that of the Cochin Company at Ernakulam in 1951. At that ducts were of a consistently high quality, time the small pilot plant had a capacity to processed and packed in accordance with the requirements of foreign buyers. freeze only 1.5 tons of shrimp per day. Now In 1959 the United States Food and the freezing industry in and around Cochin Drug Administration prohibited imports of accounts for over 200 tons per day.

The infant prawn export industry in any foodstuffs packed in materials not formally approved. This resulted in prawn exCochin had many growing pains. Catches porters in India having to obtain clearance were spread over long coastal areas and there was neither suitable transport nor ice for the internal protective lacquer used in all fish cans. Procedural delays could have to bring them to the factories. Workers led to a loss of business and goodwill in were unfamiliar with modern fishing, handU.S. markets and caused a serious setback ling and processing techniques. Suitable to the young industry. But the timely interpacking materials were unavailable. Steamvention of the Continental Canning Comers with cold storage were non-existent, as pany of America and their Indian associalso were freezing plates and other essential equipment. However, the early assistance ates, Metal Box, made possible scientific of American businessmen enabled the in- packing to precision standards, in the minimum amount of time. dustry to be set up on scientific lines and Metal Box equipped itself for the manuto acquire firmly established export chanfacture of the standard U.S. shrimp can to nels.

Ralph Marsh of California was one of meet American market requirements. The these early American visitors who went to packing facility, coupled with the technical supplied by Americans to Cochin to survey the export potential. He information Indian manufacturers, contributed to the gave technical advice and other assistance success of the fish export industry. An addito a family of Cochin fis)1 merchants, with tional factor was the special trade terms the result that one of the port's first canwith the United States that stipulate no ning factories came into existence under the name of Indo Marine Fisheries. To- given quota. All quantities are welcome to day they are one of Cochin's biggest ex- American importers at all times. These flexible terms serve as a great impetus to porters of canned fish products, accounting for i50,000 cases of 24 five-ounce cans per Indian exporters and have contributed to the increase in exports for the past few year, of which 125,000 end up on superyears, according to Mr. M.P. Haran, Secremarket shelves in California, New England tary of the Marine ExportPromotion Counand New York. A New England survey conducted a couple of years ago placed an cil at Ernakulam.

The Marine Products Export Promotion Indo Marine Fisheries shrimp brand as the Council, established by the Union Ministry second most popular with housewives there.

Director Yusaf Mohammad Elias said, "I of Commerce in 1961, has helped gain more prominence for Indian marine prohave myself been to the United States four or five times and can proudly say that our ducts abroad. "We offer exporters a number of facilities," Mr. Haran explained, factory is comparable to any American "We send delegations overseas to conduct shrimp cannery." market surveys. Also sales teams. We do Others were quick to follow the example of Indo Marine Fisheries. Continental Sea a lot of publicity abroad for our products.

Foods Inc. of New York entered into col- We circulate overseas enquiries among our exporters and encourage them to take laboration with an Indian businessman, advantage of these trade contacts. We also agreeing to provide all technical help and

The marketing of frozen fresh foods and the growth of the refrigeration industry have helped India export Rs. 20 crores worth of frozen fish.

import foreign samples to compare them with our products from time to time, to ensure that ours continue to be equally good."

In 1966 the Government of India started a quality control department to examine all the marine products being exported to ensure that standards are maintained.

In spite of the progress achieved, _ Kerala's fish export industry still has several problems, the most serious being the lack of a sufficient number of large trawlers. Another problem is the entry of many people into the industry who have no permanent stake in it, but merely have in mind quick profits. Mr. Elias echoed a popular sentiment when he emphatically stated, "Restricting new entrants into this industry is essential-unless they plan to stay with it and help it to grow by respecting the unwritten law of the seas and of sales. They must get their own trawlers and find their own sources of supplies to prevent coastal waters being overfished. They must have their eyes firmly fixed on export requirements, and not only their own gain." Operating on loan and available fishing, factory and freezing hire facilities, these 'fly-by-night' operators have little concern in maintaining the high standards already set by the industry.

It is most essential that Kerala's fishermen move to deeper seas. Shrimp spawn in shallow waters near the shore and only move out to deep seas to grow after two months. If the present indiscriminate exploitation of coastal areas is not checked, shrimp fishing grounds may soon be completely exhausted. The best and largest quality shrimp can only be caught in fishing grounds further from the coast. The present mechanized boats and trawlers utilized for fishing can only go about ten to fifteen miles off shore. Therefore bigger trawlers that can ply further and¡ stay out longer are an urgent need. They must be equipped with modern navigational and exploratory instruments and deep-freeze and processing facilities to enable the catch to reach customers in the freshest condition.

India has started manufacturing large trawlers and plate freezers, but cannot yet keep pace with the demand. Prices are still higher than those of similar equipment made abroad. Its import remains essential

for the growing industry until India is selfsufficient; the government is aware of this, and 30 new trawlers will soon be imported.

Import policies presently allow companies to import one foreign manufactured trawler to every two indigenous ones purchased.

But these are still not enough and the industry is pressing hard for more. "The life span of a shrimp is only one year," remarked John P. George, Director of Island Fisheries, "and what is here today may not be there tomorrow. So it is essential that we avail of God's own gift-the fantastic crops in our seas. 'Come and get us-we are here' is what they seem to say, but we cannot do this. We need more tools. The industry is suffering from a lack of trawlers and master fishermen-not lack of initiative, enthusiasm or technical ability. Give us the tools and we'll not only produce enough fish for export, but also to feed our own people."

Master fishermen and other manpower needed to meet the demands of the growing marine industry are being trained at the Central Institute of Fisheries Operatives, established at Ernakulam in 1963. Considerable assistance has been given this government institute by FAO and the Swedish International Development Agency. Skapti Johnsson, an F AO skipper from Iceland, has been training students in the latest techniques of trawlfishing for the past two years. Capt. Pao delivers regular lecture demonstrations on tuna long line fishing methods. Seventeen students who have graduated from the CIFO are already filling responsible jobs on board the Japanese fishing vessels operated by one of Cochin's leading commercial concerns, New India Fisheries. Japanese seamen speak highly of these newly-trained Indian skippers and technicians. A goal of the CIFO, along with its sister institute in Madras, is to train most of the manpower for the additional vessels that will, it is hoped, soon be plying in Kerala's waters.

Today every Indian prawn that is packed, every lobster that is canned and every frog leg frozen, is sold even before it is caught and processed. This fortunate situation augurs well for the future. With caution, and if sufficient heed is paid to storm warnings, there is absolutely no reason why this thriving industry should not sail full speed ahead to even greater prosperity.

END

While synthetic fibre nets are used by almost all Kerala fishermen today, there is an increasing demand for modern mechanized vessels which can go after bigger catches in deep sea waters.

Student skippers receive training at the Central Institute of Fisheries Operatives in Ernakulam.

Here, Capt. Chi Yun Pao, an FAO expert, demonstrates the use of a long line in tuna fishing.

CONGRAT0LAlioNS '"

The editor of the "Illustrated Weekly" and a well-known Bombay cartoonist set down their impressions of the city's fullthroated, flower-strewn welcome to the American astronauts.

by KHUSHWANT

SINGH

SUNDAYAFTERNOON in October. It feels like the hottest day of the year. It is still and humid. The streets are empty. Under the shade of trees pie-dogs taket-heirsiesta.

The tarmac roasts under the blazing sun.

The road is festooned with banners "Welcome to our moon heroes" but there are no people to read the signs of welcome. A flat, colourless sea shimmers like a solar reflector. "The gulls are back," says someone pointing to a flock wheeling near Chowpatty. But there is not a soul along the bay to welcome the seagulls.

This was noontime in Bombay on the 26th of October. "You see," someone explained, "Bombayites do not like to stir out of their homes on Sundays. Not even for conquerors of the moon. Sunday afternoon is for siesta. Sunday is sacred."

So it seemed to be as we drove towards

AND

JUBILATiONS

Santa Cruz airport. Would there be anyone save pressmen and officials to receive the astronauts? Would this visit be a fiasco?< As we got nearer the airport we passed a few stray individuals, then families, then parties of families, then a regular stream of humanity flowing towards Santa Cruz. It was an hour before the astronauts' plane was due but every inch of available space was already taken. More than half the crowd were children: future citizens of the cosmos waiting to welcome the pioneers of their brave new world of tomorrow.

Who who was there? (Pardoning my Indianism for Kaun Kaun.) Just about every one in Bombay from the Chief Minister, the Mayor, the Sheriff, the diplomatic corps, the elite and the hoi polloi. And of course the usual quota of show-offs who utilize such occasions to offer unsolicited advice to everyone.

It was a colourful spectacle: the greenbrown Powai hills in the distance; a few bulbous white clouds in an otherwise clear blue sky; a large dais draped in Buddhist saffron and yellow with three throne-like chairs for the conquerors and humbler ones for their wives and their official welcomers: microphones sticking out like nobbed an-

.. . "

tennae; garlands of marigold and jasmine laced with silver and gold thread, and hundreds of press and TV cameramen rushing about flashing their cameras at everyone and everything. Then in streaked the U.S. President's aircraft. How exactly like our seagulls which came in only yesterday.

Only bigger, shinier in its white and blue and with more quicksilver on its underbelly.

A wild waving of arms, whistles and clapping of hands like the leaves of a woodland under a gale. The plane draws up. The engines become silent. The gangway is fixed and the doors open. We hold our breath and wait. A wild burst of applause. No, it's only the crew. Wilder burst of cheering as some ladies emerge from the rear door. No, they are not the astronauts' wives; only stewardesses. We no longer believe the astronauts are in the plane. But Armstrong steps out and assures us he is he. He waves his arms like Nixon when he won his Presidential election. Then Aldrin. Then Collins.

And then a bedlam of cheering, whistles, clapping and waving of little flags-stars and stripes and Indian tri-colours.

The children should be where the VIPs are. And vice-versa. So think the astronauts. They go round the airport building,

THE. GoVERNOR

SPEAKS-

answering the greetings of the schoolboys, blowing back kisses to the teen-aged and deliriously joyous girls.

The inevitable speeches and the garlandings. You can hardly see their faces over the mounds of flowers and tinsel. Aldrin is quite an orator. Carefully chosen words referring to the help given by Indian scientists in space programmes (mild applause), and coincidence of the visit with Mahatma Gandhi's birth centenary (enthusiastic hand-clapping).

The ceremony at the airport is over. The astronauts are seated in the Governor's bright red open car. We are a part of the cavalcade.

The transformation of Bombay from what it was an hour before is unbelievable.

Instead of deserted roads, crowds ten and twenty deep line the pavements. Balconies of apartments are jammed with people.The crowds cheer themselves hoarse. Young men blow trumpets of welcome. A Parsi dowager quietly sprinkles rose petals from her window. College girls hurl fistfuls of jasmine and bougainvillea petals and blow kisses with both hands. It may not be as spectacular as a New York ticker-tape reception, but it is infinitely prettier. The astronauts are obviously moved. They wave to everyone. And look out for that man Aldrin. He joins the palms of his hands to say Namaste. The Indians love him."He wiH-surely make the first President of the Republic of the Moon.

The astronauts calion the Governor and are introduced to the elite of the city. His staff grumble that only fifty guests were expected but nearly four hundred have turned up. We see the chandeliered reception hall crammed with celebrities. Over the tinkle of china and glass we hear the Maharashtrian rendering of "For he's a jalli good fello-o-o-w." The children of the Governor's staff wave Indian and American flags and scream "Welcome astronauts."

And once again we are in the streets of Bombay. It is as the poet said "Roses, roses all the way." Cheering, clapping, showering of flowers, festooned arches. The crowds at road crossings are thousands thick. The climax is the great reception at Azad Maidan.

A replica of the Lunar Module is on view. Film star David Abraham has been keeping the vast throng-estimated at half a million-amused with his jokes. As the motorcade arrives the thunderous applause is like the roar of a turbulent sea. The astronauts climb up the steps of the Indianbuilt "Eagle" and receive another ovation.

More speeches and garlands. The Americans again bring in Mahatma Gandhi and the Indian scientists. And the Mahatma's name is magic to the Indian millions. Ambassador Keating ends his speech with "Jai Hind, Jai America." Amen. Jai both of us.

"Has Bombay ever seen anything like this?" I ask an elderly journalist. "The Queen of England and the Pope had receptions almost as large as this one," he replied. "But there is a difference. One was born great, the other was elected to a great position: these three have truly achieved greatness. Bombaywallas know the difference."

So it was. We drove through more and larger crowds on Mahatma Gandhi Road to the Gateway ofIndia to the Taj Mahal.

The hotel was like an island in a sea of humanity. Any time a European showed his face at any of the hotel's many windows, a cry went up: "There he is. That's Armstrong. No, he's Aldrin. No he is balding, he must be Collins."

It was well after dark when I left the hotel. The crowds were as thick and as eager as ever. And an hour later when the moon shone bri~htli' thei' were still there awaiting the astronauts' return from the Tata Institute. The Bombaywallas certainly know how to acclaim great men. Hereafter Sunday, the 26th October 1969 will go down in the history of the greatest metropolis of India as the "Day of the Astronauts."

END

1

F'RE~ rHOTOGR PLIGHT

Al1fERS

01 â&#x20AC;˘

51

Roads and railways, radio and television, newspapers and magazines-all these are powerful factors in hastening the process of modernization in developing countries.

NATIONS need many things all at once. They need to improve agriculture and build industry, to invest in public health and education. They need transportation and new media of communication. When scarce resources cannot meet all the needs at once, the difficult problem is to choose. The importance of these many competing needs should be evaluated to determine priorities. How much and in what ways can investment in communication contribute to development?

When new roads, newspapers, radio, television, movies or books come into a society, powerful effects can usually be observed. Changes follow in the way people think and in the things they value. There have been a number of studies of what happens in a village when a road comes to link it with the world.

Life changes. People begin to travel to work in nearby towns. They see new things; they buy new things.

Officials and entrepreneurs come into the village more often; a doctor may come where previously he refused. Newspapers can be delivered.

The young consider new alternatives in lifethat may shock the old. Manufactured products are brought in and put up for sale, displacing village crafts. Politicians come around seeking votes. Soon a bus line will be formed; the drivers and bus owners may become a new part of the elite. Nothing could be more revolutionary than a road.

Telephones, radios, television, movies, also come into traditional villages and produce similar changes. They bring in words that carry advice on agriculture or public health. The media show what opportunities exist for using new commodities such as electricity, refrigeration, or automotive transporta.tion. They undermine traditional values, introducing new kinds of music, new kinds of drama, new political beliefs. They may also be DEVELOPING

About the author: Chairman of the Department of Political Science at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Ithiel de Sola Pool has written many works on the role of communications in the political process.

used in the classroom; radio and television teaching can put the resources of a large community in the hands of a village teacher.

These observations from experience and common sense are further supported by a growing series of studies that correlate modernization with access to the media of communication. All over the world, it has been found that those individuals and villages that have access to the printed page or radio have more modern attitudes, are more progressive and move into modern roles faster than those who do not. For literacy, this is almost so obvious as to be banal. An illiterate in a white-collar or professional job with wide knowledge of the world is almost inconceivable.

For radio, it is less obvious, but the results are very striking. Much of what comes over the air may be entertainment or music; the person who hears it may be illiterate; but still we find that where radio goes, there ~odernizing attitudes come in.

As already noted, the process of development requires many things at once. The effects of investment in communication may depend on how it is integrated with investment in transportation and also with political organization. In the second place, communication investments have different effects on development. Modern communications may be important to unify a country, but have less significance for exploitation of natural resources. The importance of new mass media depends on what one wants to do.

In the third place, communication investments are not all of one piece.

Putting in a road facilitates personal contact; installing telephones permits the conduct of business; putting in radios may entertain and educate; teaching literacy in school may have profound effects, but only as new generations assume leadership. In the fourth place, policy decisions must be made about various other aspects of a communication system -the training of skilled personnel to run a modern communication system; its use for mass propaganda or for sophisticated. discussions among the intelligentsia.

Modern means of communication seldom replace the previously existing means. Television has not eliminated radio; radio has not destroyed the printed book; the invention of print has not stopped us from writing letters by pen and ink; and teaching people to be literate does not make them any less inclined to converse. Each new mode of communication is superimposed upon the old. It may take over certain functions, but other functions are retained by the former mode. Thus, in highly developed societies, there is a complex interaction between modern mass media and traditional word-of-mouth communication.

A modern society is not a depersonalized mass society free from primary groups. It is an elaborate system of families, clubs, ethnic groups, classes, political organizations, and friendship groupings. The dissemination of any new idea or practice in such a society depends not only on the publicity it is given in the mass media but also on discussion about it among people. Farmers may learn about a new agricultural practice from hearing a broadcast. They are likely to adopt it only when they see and discuss with a neighbour getting a better yield by using the practice.

"WHEN A ROAD COMES TO LINK A VILLAGE WITH THE WORLD ...

LIFE CHAIGES."

uch recent social science research has been devoted to the relationship between the mass media and word-of-mouth communication. We know that the mass media alone can have a profound effect on what people pay attention to, the information they have, their tastes and their images of the world.

We know that, on the other hand, the mass media by themselves are less effective in changing their attitudes or leading to action.

Attitudes that are highly meaningful to people are seldom changed by the mass media alone. The media may din propaganda into people, but if their friends and relatives continued

"COMMUNICATION HAS CHANGED THE THINKING OF PEOPLE IN DEVELOPING COUNTRIES."

.p~c;ach ~ifferent ,:,alues, the ,media are not likely to WIn.The persIstence of belief in God in countries where atheist propaganda has gone on for several decades is an example.

In securing action, the mass media are even less effective in the absence of personal reinforcement.

Advertising may lead a shopper buying soap to pick up one brand rather than another, but this is an action that has no particular significance to him. However, to get people to act in ways that conform to new values almost always requires that mass communications be reinforced by personal influence.

Recently, an experiment was conducted in India to measure the adoption by farmers of new agricultural practices. All India Radio broadcast agricultural advice programmes. In one set of villages, listening groups were assembled to discuss the suggestions following the broadcast. Sometimes the suggestions were rejected, but at other times they were approved. When they were approved, action often followed. In another set of villages without group listening, though radios were tuned in, no action resulted. It took a combination of information through the mass media and reinforcement by personal discussions to get the farmer to act.

The same thing is found in all spheres of life. Advertising alone will not sell a novel product; it requires other forms of promotion -for example, by salesmen-to build upon the ads. In community development, the mass media help the local action agents by providing a background of knowledge, attention and predisposition. Mass media development, then, can be an important part of any programme of development; but, depending on the objectives to be served, it must be linked with organization.

Given a proper mix of communication, transportation, and organization, there are many functions that a modem system of communications can perform: (1) Modem media provide accurate and permanent records. Newspapers, films, books, magazines, and magnetic tapes are available for reference and

verification years later. (2) The modem media are extraordinarily rapid. Events are reported all over the world within minutes after their occurrence. 0) The modem media extend the scope of a man's emphatic comprehension of ways of life that he has not experienced at first hand. (4) The modem media coordinate the interpersonal groups that constitute the network of faceto-face contacts in a society. The leaders of these various groups are provided by the media with similar clues as to what is going on, similar images, and a similar sense of what is important. The media establish this common file of mutually understandable information simultaneously over large areas. A mass media system welds the segments of the personal contacts network into a single national whole capable of integrated action.

odern communication systems make possible the coordination of life over wide geographic units. The city-state was the natural political unit for ancient Greece because, as Aristotle and Plato pointed out, it was the unit within which citizens could communicate with each other. Modern communications make the natural units larger. Quick, up-to-the-minute price quotations make possible wide markets. Radio, telephones and roads enable police to maintain legal order over areas that would in the past have been the domain of local bandits or barons. Radio communication is essential to an air transport system. Between 15 and 25 per cent of the capital cost of air transport facilities is for communication.

A modem communication system is essential for the conduct of international trade. Not only do developing countries need feeder roads and communications into villages; they also need access to the worldwide system of communications. Importers and exporters, salesmen and Quy~rs n~eQhotels, air lines, inter-

national telephones, wireless.

More subtle than all these obvious uses of modern communications are the effects of a modern communications system on the ways people think. Consider, for example, the impact of a national press on the development of an intelligentsia.

If there are newspapers and magazines, motion picture companies and radio, there are jobs for a certain number of modern young people as writers, editors and producers.

It is from this class of the literate intelligentsia that has come much of the political leadership for nationalist movements.

So here is an indirect but important way in which the growth of modern communication has changed the thinking of people in developing countries. But the most obvious and direct means has been through the exposure of the audience to new and unfamiliar ways of life described in the media. It is in reading, movies and radio that people in villages and impoverished cities everywhere have discovered a land of their heart's desire and have come to know that there is a different way of life from their inherited rut.

In modem countries, saturated as they are with the mass media, what Marx called rural idiocy has disappeared. In the United States today, there is no difference between knowledge of the world in the city and in the country. Although some individuals are more participant than others, still no sector of such a society, rural or urban, rich or poor, agricultural or industrial, fails to be exposed to modern life and the facts of the world.

In a developing economy, there are segments of the society just as fully exposed to the modem mass media as is generally the case in the United States, Japan or Western Europe. Educated middle-class people living in cities read newspapers every day, have radios with shortwave reception, go to a choice of movies at will, subscribe to magazines, and read books. Given dif¡ ferences in ideology, tradition and culture, still the image of modem life

available to them is essentially the

same as that which comes through .. that they can set up wired loud- . literacy among Samoan children.

In countries at the next level of the mass media to all the citizens speakers in villages, charging only 15 cents per month to each house- economic development, television of media-saturated countries.

But developing economies are holder who chooses to rent one. The may playa tremendously significant role not only in schools but also dual societies. In them, the city loudspeakers cost about a dollar, dweller and the villager are not and the entrepreneur connects them in homes. In many countries of the world, there are shanty towns and alike in knowledge or in basic with a single, central, batteryimages of life. As one moves from operated tuner-amplifier and per- slums capped by forests of television the port town or capital to the haps tape-recorder unit that he aerials. Television is expensive. squatter settlements on their out- owns, using army wire that costs Radio is a much cheaper medium.

Where governments have barred skirts, filled with men just out of only about 30 cents per hundred the village, and then on into the feet. The village is thus provided commercial operation and have village itself, one finds knowledge with music most of the day and attempted to broadcast only what whatever other agricultural and ed- they felt the audience should hear, of the modem world disappearing. the listeners have been able to ucational programmes the national .Many surveys have found remote villages where the majority of the broadcasting system puts on. In frustrate this restriction by virtue of people could not name the president addition, the loudspeaker system short-wave radio. Foreign broadof their own country, not to men- permits announcements of local casts are available if domestic broadcasts wax too dull or pedantic. tion naming the leading cities of interest and the playing by record or tape of selections the villagers With television, however, that is the world or the names of other particularly like to hear. not the case, for the signals are leading statesmen.

At the most elementary level, a only locally re(;eivable. The developThe mass media change this development plan might call for ment of communication satellites situation. They disseminate aware. ness of aspects of life that are not every village to have at least one now makes it possible to receive television programmes internationally. part of the personal experience of system of loudspeakers connected There is obviously the eternal the reader or listener or viewer either to a village telephone or to a himself. Those who fear this pheno- radio tuner. All¡ this can be done problem of maintaining quality in menon call it a demonstration effect at a cost that almost any village the mass media. Not enough talent or revolution of rising expectations. can bear. A higher level of develop- exists to keep all the outpouring The media create knowledge of ment is identified by UNESCO as of print,. radio and television at a desirable things faster than these a minimal goal: namely, that every high level. There has been discountry should seek to have at agreement among the experts on the things themselves can be produced.

It is easier to bring in movies, news- least 10 daily newspapers, five radio significance of this fact for developpapers, and even radio than it is to receivers, two cinema seats and two ment. Some argue that what goes bring in housing, automobiles, bi- television receivers per hundred in- to the masses in new knowledge stimulates development, even if it cycles, and medical facilities. The habitants. comes in comic books and filmsongs effects of the mass media are therewhose standing as art is questionfore legitimately feared. Like all able. Others hold that what developrevolutionary forces, they prepare ing countries need mo~t is a leadermen's minds for new desires more ship provided with knowledge and rapidly than those new desires cari understanding of the very highest be satisfied. So media development quite different type of quality. They insist that not comic cannot stand alone. If the media are books and film songs will modernize investment in modern communicato do more than to add to frustraa country, but rather literary and tion is found in American Samoa, tion, they must be part of a prowhere resources are going primarily sophisticated dailies and magazines. gramme of sustained development.

The truth is, once more, that Media development can be many into education. At a cost of many different things. Let us look at one millions of dollars, television has development requires many things of the simplest systems designed to been installed in all schools. Televi- all at once. Metropolitan dailies aspiring to the excellence of The New reach into villages otherwise com- sion teaching by a few expert teachers pletely beyond the domain of the reaches daily into all the villages.

York Times, weeklies aspiring to the modem communications. For such The initial outlay is high; but by standards of the Economist, journalisolated villages, off the road, there comparison with what would have ists of the highest education and the are severe limitations for even been spent to train enough teachers highest character, are needed for a battery-transistorized radio sets that to an adequate standard for all nation's progress; but so is a mass are relatively cheap and portable. those schools, the cost is low, and press, often in another vernacular To keep live batteries in such sets to wait for teacher training would and addressed to the level of the costs the equivalent of 20 to 40 have meant a delay of at least a new literates, and so are popular cents a month. In contrast, in South decade. Now, for the first time, radio and movies.

Korea, entrepreneurs have found there is the prospect of universal

BRIDGING THE COMMUNICATION As DUSK DESCENDS on the village, the large courtyard begins to fill up with people-children, women carrying babies, men coming in from their work in the fields. The projector whirs into action and as the film show proceeds, there are bursts of laughter and applause, as well as signs of boredom-yawning, restlessness, and a few stealthy exits. At one point, when a cartoon film shows a woman chasing her husband with a broom, there are spirited voices of protest-from the women in the audience. "Maybe that's what happens in the cities," they say. "Here, it's the other way round."

All this is taken in by a group of observers who, over the next few days, will question the villagers on their reactions to the films.

They are researchers from the Indian Institute of Mass Communication in New Delhi, and they are conducting a survey on the effectiveness of Government of India documentary films.

The Institute was set up in 1965 in recognition of the importance of communication, particularly in a developing country like India. The spread of agricultural and family planning information, the fostering of national integration and of a sense of participation in the country's development plans-all these are basically problems of communication.

A major part of the Institute's activity is the training of people who man the government's vast communication network-Central and State Information Officers, Agricultural Information Officers and such officials as Block Development Officers. The Institute, according to Director LP. Tewari, "covers the entire gamut of mass communications-press, radio, television, printing, publishing, posters, films and filmstrips, as well as use of the spoken word."

The other half of the Institute's work is concerned with determining the communication gap, assessing the impact of the various information programmes on the people. The all-important question here is: Are they getting the message?

There is, of course, no clear-cut answer to this question. It varies from state to state, and from different groups within each state. In the documentary film survey, for instance, understanding of a family planning film WaS 81 per cent in Tamil Nadu, 61 per cent in West Bengal, and 47 per cent in Uttar Pradesh-figures which roughly reflect literacy levels in the respective areas.

Conducted for GOI's Films Division, the documentary study involved the screening of five selected films in 24 villages and a total of 24,000 depth interviews. One of the five, an instructional film on agriculture, was artistically first-rate; it had good production values, excellent photography, and a sensitive music score. .But it was so loaded with technical information that comprehension of its content was extremely low.

To another film, a series of abstract art paintings, reaction ranged from throwing stones to the comment: "This kind of thing will only frighten the children." After an animated film which portrayed a high government official in cartoon form, the villagers asked, "Why do you show an important man like that?

It's not in keeping with his dignity and position." The lesson for film-makers is that traditional values are easily affronted, and that appreciation of the cartoon technique presupposes a certain degree of sophistication.

For purposes of the documentary study, a classification was made into + and - villages, the former representing those within a lO-mile radius of a cinema hall. It is not true, the survey found, that people exposed to the cinema could absorb a film's message more quickly-too often their responses (ire governed by ¡entertainment considerations. In some cases, reaction is highly refined.

"They will even tell you how the film should have been made," said one researcher. "Most of the time they want the story approach and other feature-film techniques." When thousands of reactions like this are put together, patterns emerge which serve as valuable guidelines for film producers.

Data collection is a vital part of communication research, but there are other important aspects. Professor of Communication Research Dr. A.V. Shanmugam describes the careful planning that goes into each project, whether it is undertaken for the government or an international agency or by the Institute itself to supplement its teaching programme.

The first step, he says, is to read all available lIterature on the subject, and to hold detailed discussions with professional colleagues. Then comes the designing of the study-deciding how to proceed, how many villages will be covered, drawing up the questionnaire, perfecting interview techniques. "While this is going on," says Dr. Shanmugam, "the research workers are being trained and contacts are established at the field of operation. If we are going to Kerala, we will naturally have Malayalam-speaking interviewers, about half of them women. And the training is rigorous. For the documentary interviewers the films were screened to the point that they were familiar with every sequence, every shot, almost every word of dialogue."

"Once the field team brings back the data," continues Dr. Shanmugam, "bad interviews are rejected and the responses codified.

These are then sent to be computerized, and it is only after the computer output has been brought back to the Institute that the task of analysis and interpretation begins."

Dr. Shanmugam, who has a Ph.D. in mass communication from the University of Illinois, is presently on a year's leave from the Institute, serving as a UNESCO specialist at the University of the Philippines. Speaking of the widespread misunderstanding of the nature of communication research, he says, "I'm always being asked about the relative effectiveness of various types of information media-for example, radio as against press or television. This, I think, is like comparing bananas with oranges. Each medium has its own unique potential for a given content and a given audience."

In complete agreement with this viewpoint is Mr. C.R. Ekambaram, the Institute's Professor of Radio and Oral Communication. And his belief was reinforced by his field experience during the recent survey on agro-information flow at the village level.

The finding of this study was that the gram sevak or village level worker is the most favoured source of information on the new seed varieties, with radio as the second most favoured source.

"But while the gram sevak and radio are best for arousing interest and creating awareness," says Mr. Ekambaram, "later, it is the other media which are more effective: pamphlets and Text continued on page 19

GAP What is the impact of India's various information programmes on the people?

How to devise more effective means of reaching them?

How to train those involved in getting the message across? These are some of the questions to which the Indian'Institute of Mass Communication in New Delhi is trying to find answers.

o

o ~

-"0..

Villagers reading newspapers and youngsters watching a film show, below, have both been observed as part of the Institute's research projects: one for a study on the role of the press during elections, the other in the course of a survey on Indian documentary films.

"One thing we've discovered in the villages is that the people's 'reactions are always authentic."

written material on agricultural know-how, instructional films, and such extension aids as demonstration plots. One medium cannot do the whole job-each is most effective at different stages."

The Institute's report has already produced concrete results.

One problem with agricultural information is the almost day-byday discovery of new methods, new uses of fertilizer, new seed, and the difficulty of keeping the man in the field abreast of this knowledge. To aid in this task, All-India Radio recently started a new programme, "Calling All Extension Workers:" There is a change of emphasis too in broadcasts intended for farmers.

Recognizing the crucial role played by the gram sevak, these now utilize the appeal of person-to-person contact.

The agr.o-information survey, which featured the collaboration of foreign specialists, including Dr. Ralph O. Nafziger of the University of Wisconsin, provided some interesting sidelights. "In some places," recalls Mr. Ekambaram, "when we asked, 'Have you heard of the rice variety ADT-27?' the farmers would come back with, 'Oh, you mean japonica indica?' We were rather surprised, to say the least, by their use of the correct botanical name for the variety. In other areas it was referred to as 'radio-paddy' because the farmers had first heard of it through radio."

"One thing we've discovered in the villages," says Mr. Ekambaram, "is that the people's reactions are always authentic. And, like everyone else, they want to be taken seriously. When we first start questioning them, responses tend to be automatic, but as the interview proceeds the answers provide significant information. Of course, in the middle of the interview there's always the danger of a farmer saying, 'I've got to chase that cow.' And he never comes back."

Other research studies conducted by the Institute have included: a survey on UNESCO's image in India; a report on the role of newspapers during elections; and an examination of an intensive family planning promotion campaign.

The layman is apt to question the validity of research on human emotions and behaviour-after all, these can never really be measured accurately. 'To this Director Tewari points out that the rapid advance of communication research, particularly in the United States, has evolved a highly-developed methodology that draws on several disciplines: anthropology, sociology, psychology, mathematics, statistics and demography.

"So advanced is this methodology," continues Mr. Tewari, "that communication researchers use a technical jargon practically incomprehensible to others. For instance if one of them says to the other, 'How large is your universe?' all he's referring to is the size of the area to be studied. And when two people meet, the speaker becomes the coder and the listener is the de-coder." The conversation of these researchers is peppered with such terms as: random sampling, pre-testing, feedback, open-end questionnaires, and cognitive dissonance-whatever that might mean.

"With all this," admits Mr. Tewari, "there is stilI margin for error. But we do our best to make our research relevant and realistic. Thus, we are never satisfied with the questionnaire that we evolve in the sophisticated environment of the Institute."

Actually, the dominant impression left by the Institute is not so much one of sophistication as of hectic activity. Several courses run concurrently, their duration ranging from seven days to 15 months. In addition to the regular training for Central and State Information Officers, courses have been held for personnel of the Indian Administrative Service, the Indian Foreign Service, and the Fertilizer Corporation of India. A new course, "Journalism Left: Carrying on with the day's chores, a village housewife is interviewed by Mrs. Uma Narula (back to camera) of the Institute's research staff. Right, two of the trainees taking the course for Expo '70 guides.

for Developing Countries," is presently being attended by trainees from Malaysia, Kenya, Zambia and the Philippines.

One programme that has brought a breath of glamour to the Iristitute is a course for the girls who will serve as guides in the Indian pavilion at Expo '70 in Osaka. Its syllabus is so extensive -it covers Indian history, geography, culture, religions, politics, economics and sociology-that a guest lecturer told the trainees, "I don't know whether or not you will become good Expo '70 guides, but at the end of this course you're all going to be walking encyclopaedias on India."

The government's decision to train the Expo '70 guides signifies its awareness of the role played by communication in today's world. It was this awareness that led the government in 1962 to invite a team of internationally-known experts to survey the use of mass communication in aiding the country's development.

Sponsored by the Ford Foundation and headed by Dr. Wilbur ~chramm, director of Stanford University's Institute for Communication Research, the team was assisted by officials of GOl's Ministry of Information and Broadcasting.

The next step taken by the government was to send four of its top information personnel abroad for training. One of them was Director Tewari, who spent two years at Stanford, at the State Department in Washington, and at UNESCO headquarters in Paris. It was after his return to this country that the Indian Institute for Mass Communication was set up in August 1965. Today it is an autonomous body with financial assistance from GOI, and aid from UNESCO, largely in the shape of equipment.

With the establishment of the Institute, a beginning has been made in coming to grips with India's gigantic communication problem. Its existence in the capital implies acceptance of the power of communication in mobilizing people for development, in accelerating the process of change. As the Ford study team's report stated: "It is through communication that leaders lead, that a nation is bound together. .. ."

END

1

lams ur

city for all seasons

THENIGHTWATCHheld his lantern high above his head. Drum Major George P. Carroll raised his mace. The sturdy yeomen of Capt. Nicholas Payne's militia swept their pine-tar torches through the bonfire and formed a flaming column.

Paradiddle double diddle flam! beat the drums. From cupped hands the fifes sang "Joy to the World," and away we marched through the December dusk of Williamsburg.

"Mr. Wetherburn, light your candles!" tolled the voice of the watch.

Light sprang up in every window of Wetherburn's Tavern.

I glanced behind to see that each winAbridged by special permission/rom the December issue 0/ National Geographic Magazine. Š 1968 by the National Geographic Society.

dow in the Capitol had opened a golden eye. I saw, too, the throng behind us, a happy hurly-burly of men, women and children flowing down mile-long Duke of Gloucester Street, through the heart of this restored capital city of the royal colony of Virginia.

With each swing of his lantern, the watch summoned shining candles from the dark, until a wave of twinkling windows spread behind us. We were illuminating our city for the holy season.

We were bringing in Christmas as it used to be.

And it seemed there were others parading with us, ghosts of Christmas Past -Lord Botetourt, the governor, dressed all in red with trimmings of gold braid; young Thomas Jefferson and his

friend John Page, two college boys prancing with holiday excitement; the rollicking company of James Craig, the goldsmith, William Parks, the master printer, and Christiana Campbell, tavern-keeper, described by a patron as "a little old woman, about four feet high and equally thick."

Up ahead would be Patrick Henry, in buckskin breeches; George Washington, who had married the local widow, Martha Custis; Peyton Randolph, a portly giant going at a fast gait; and the slender ghost of the lady whose house I now inhabit, Mary Stith.

I strolled home through streets warmed by reflected candlelight, smelling the promise of wet snow in the still air. In the far dark, the Palace, resiText continued

Dedicated to the motto "That the future may learn from the past," Colonial Williamsburg has been restored to its 18th-century glory when it was the nursery of the leaders of American Independence. In a personalized account of his stay there, the writer savours its old-world charm and revolutionary fervour and reports that the "dead" city is alive in spirit and substance.

Oil

page 22

Good cheer rings through the crisp December night as carollers proclaim "God Rest You Merry, Gentlemen" in front of the reconstructed Mary Stith Shop, now a guest house. Originally named after Miss Stith, a cousin of Thomas Jefferson, it is one of tIle 19 houses that can be rented.

Dine where George Washington did at Christiana Campbell's Tavern, below, one of the three 18th-century restaurants now restored. Specializing in sea food from local waters, it features colonial recipes. Diners are entertained with popular songs of the period by a costumed minstrel.

The miracle of restoratioll made possible by the Rockefeller family is coming to fruition.

dence of colonial governors, glowed with dancing diamonds.

I was delighted to find embers still glowing in the hearth of my little house.

Although it is called the Mary Stith Shop, no one knows what was sold there, or if Miss Stith, a cousin of Jefferson, made it her home.

My house-that's the way Ihad come to think of it. Of course it belonged to Colonial Williamsburg and had only been lent to me, but I lived for part of each season of a year in that comfortable brick home on Duke of Gloucester Street, in the middle of the 18th century. I came to know the gentle, generous folk of Williamsburg, the men and women who tend its 90 acres of gardens and greens, exhibit its crafts, live in its original and reconstructed homes, taverns and shops, care for its exhibition buildings, interpret its past, play its music, and protect its heritage.

Here, where time has restored rather than destroyed, it is difficult to realize that four decades have passed since the late Dr. W.A.R. Goodwin, then rector of Bruton Parish Church, found in John D. Rockefeller, Jr., a man to share his vision of capturing the past.

The miracle of restoration made possibleby Mr. Rockefeller and his family, at a cost of $79,000,000 over 41 years, is only now coming to full fruition.

Protected by a verdant green belt, the l30-acre historic area today includes 85 restored buildings of colonial date and 49 major buildings, plus many smaller ones that have been reconstructed.

A craft programme that began with a handful of small shops in 1939 now represents 30 crafts. The familiar silversmith, weaver, printer, bootmaker, and blacksmith still go about their daily business, but so do many others new to the ,Williamsburg scene-harnessmaker, gunsmith, sand caster, and basketmaker.

For eighty-one dramatic years, between moves of the colony's capital

Music of the period is played on the old instruments by the Colonial Williamsburg band. A sinuous instrument, called a serpent, keeps company with a sackbut (left), a progenitor of the trombone.

from Jamestown in 1699 to Richmond in 1780, Williamsburg maintained its own particular rhythm-a remarkable serenity broken by periods of public clamour. During drizzly winters and sweltering summers the town slept. But spring and autumn, when the General Assembly and the General Court met in the Capitol, were wild, crowded periods called "Publick Times."

The great planters and their retinues rode in from the estates. Lawyers, plaintiffs and defendants flocked to the taverns. Politicians, some with the red mud of the frontier on their boots, others wearing the fine linens of gentility, gathered to discuss taxes and tyranny. Businessmen assembled'behind the Capitol to buy and sell merchandise, co-

ordinate ship sailings, set prices for the year's tobacco crop.

In recent years, Williamsburg's restoration"has seemed all too faithful to those bustling Pub lick Times. On one memorable summer day, a record 4,952 men, women and children shoved themselves through the Governor's Palace, while 9,000 others crowded the city.

I

WiI{

vening is the gentle time at Williamsburg, for it is â&#x20AC;˘ in the evening, when the ~ summer sun dies with lingering radiance in the gardens and leaves the last and warmest wash of gold across the Capitol, that all the great events of history take their proper place in the human scale. â&#x20AC;˘

I was pondering such a thougl).t while sitting on my front stoop. A "melodic voice floated on the warm air. That could only be my friend Tayler Vrooman, Williamsburg's minstrel who sometimes wanders the streets serenading passers-by.

"That's a beautiful song you were singing."

"I am the world's leading expert on 18th-century popular music, by default, since I am probably the only man living who now devotes full time to it," he said. "My friends say I am a good tavern singer because any singer who can sing doesn't sing in taverns. How do you like this one?"

As he sang he disappeared behind a fence. On the last note, there was a thundering roar, and the minstrel, astride a red motorbike, shot out of a parking lot and disappeared towards the Palace, the home of seven royal governors.

Only once a year does the Palace swathe itself in candlelight and resume its former glory. In early summer, when Williamsburg celebrates the period that led to independence, an invited company once more assembles in the blue of evening, at the great gate surmounted with the stone lion and unicorn of English royalty.

With other guests I went up the steps and into the hall, where racks of muskets glinted in candlelight and the walnut panelling glowed from its very grain. In the small dining room dinners had been attended by Jefferson, then reading law, George Wythe, William Small, a professor, and the sophisticated Governor Francis Fauquier. Years later, Jefferson remarked, "At these dinners I have heard more good sense, more rational and philosophical conversations, than in all my life besides."

In the wide ballroom, elegant balls, such as those held on the King's Birthnight, might begin with a stately minuet, but soon the flutes, French horns, violins and spinet would swing into a marathon round of livelyjigs and reels.

A small outbuilding in front of the Palace was the Governor's Office. To it came a hard-riding young man, lean as a leather strap, one winter day in 1754.

,

His name was George Washington"and he was just back from an incredibly dangerous mission, far into the western wilderness, where he had parleyed with French military commanders. His account of his perilous journey and its result was the prelude to the bitter conflict, the French and Indian war, that followed.

Night had fallen as I walked past the old cemetery. Candlelight flickering from the Palace looked like a blaze-a fitting reminder of the original Palace's sudden and fiery end.

In December of 1781, the great residence was filled with American soldiers wounded in the battle of Yorktown.

Three days before Christmas, flames sprang up in the lower rooms and roared upward as the crippled and maimed struggled to escape. In three hours the great mansion was a smoking ruin.

No one thought that the Palace would ever rise again. In the early 1900s, a large school building occupied the front yard. Then, in 1934, the country's loveliest phoenix sprang again from the old ashes, rising on its original foundations, to the delight of countless republican multitudes, the sons of revolutionaries ready to admire the glamour

and elegance of the aristocratic life.

Powdered, pompadoured, perfumed, a Virginia gentleman might have made his way to the Capitol for a meeting of the Assembly. The next morning I headed there myself. Inside the Hall of the House of Burgesses, the elected lower body of the Assembly, my footsteps echoed in the empty chamber.

How small and simple a room for the momentous events that occurred in it: opposing rows of benches for the legislators and, centred in a graceful apse, the original tall chair used two centuries ago by the Speaker. In the tranquillity it was hard to imagine Patrick Henry's oratorical thunder on that memorable May day in 1765 during the Stamp Act crisis.

Britain, victor in America, was learning that empires cost money. But, almost from the day that the French and Indian war ended, the tide in America set towards resistance to taxation.

"What then?" asked Prime Minister George Grenville. "Must America be defended entirely by us, and be themselves quite excused... ?"

To Parliament it seemed a fair argument that the Colonies should help pay for their own defence. It obviously continued

At the Governor's Palace, the 200-year-old atmosphere of leisurely tempo, elegant manners, gracious hostesses and gentlemen in white wigs and laces is revived at a social evening for visitors.

:~ ;>

~

.0

E ~ ~ f.O

~ g ~ <;j 'g

thought so when it passed a stamp tax, similar to the one that Englishmen had been paying since 1694,on newspapers, tavern licences, playing cards, and dozens of other things.

In Virginia, the Assembly had been dutifully going through the motions of a comparatively dull session, due to end on June 1, when news of the Stamp Act burst like a bomb. All but 39 of the 116Burgesses had already gone home.

An old colonial hand might have noticed the change that had come over the Assembly in recent years. The old planters were there, still the ruling power, still the proud masters of estates with deep roots in England. But new men were on hand-plain-spoken and plain-dressed, chatting in the German and Scotch-Irish accents of the back country. Their leader, Patrick Henry, was a new member who never before had attended an Assembly as a Burgess.

Somehow a copy of the Stamp Act "crept into the House." On May 29, Henry rose and offered five explosive resolutions defying the King's right to tax. None, not even his later rival Jefferson, could deny Henry's power to sway an audience. The Burgesses were enthralled as he poured out a torrent of incandescent language. The old planters, shocked at his audacious references to oppression but sorely lacking their usual majority, were suddenly frozen when Henry reached the climax of his' speech: "In former times Caesar had his Brutus, Charles the First his Cromwell, and George the Third .... " "Treason! Treason!"

"And George the Third," Henry concluded, "or so an uncertain history tells us, may profit by their example. If this be treason, make the most of it."

The resolutions, now put to the vote, squeaked by, the last on a 20 to 19 count. Seven resolutions, including two so violent that Henry had not even presented them, had already been sent off to the other colonies. The Boston Gazette printed them on July 1. (continued)

8

~ '"g Brick

by brick, the Governor's Palace, now

8 aglow in floodlight, left, rose like a phoenix 9

f

from the ashes on its original foundations some 150 years after it was destroyed by fire in 1781.

The revival of old handicrafts makes Williams-burg an outstanding gift centre. The silversmith, above, still goes abollt his daily task as his forefathers did two hundred years ago.

In tbis hall, where America's first legislature 111et,liberty spoke and sparked a revolution.

A guide. below, recalls the flaming words of Patrick Henry in 1765 to the House of Burgesses.

Williamsburg celebrates ~he climactic days of its 81 . years of history-the prelude to American Independence.

When the hated stamps arrived in America that autumn, angry mobs wrecked the homes of the distributors and stoned law officers who tried to stop them. The day was hastening when Williamsburg's Capitol and its House of.Burgesses would witness events that would shake not only Virginia but the world.

1f3j1_

ndian summer lingered, dayfollowing dayof golden weather-eool mornings,

I~ .~

warm afternoons filling to-

wards dusk with the blue haze of southern autumn, pumpkins in rich orange piles, cornstalks like stacked guns on the porches of houses.

I followed the clip-clop of a carriage -ears are banned for much of the year -through small windrows of red and brown leaves to the Peyton Randolph House.

Here lived for 30 years the man who might have been America's first President. He opposed the Stamp Act resolutions as too radical, but as Speaker of the House of Burgesses, later as president of Virginia's four Revolutionary Conventions, finally as first President of the Continental Congress, Randolph presided at the birth of the nation.

Death came to him suddenly in Philadelphia in 1775.

A year earlier, on a windless August day, a group of worried men gathered at the Peyton Randolph House. In May of that year the Assembly had received news of the Boston Port Act and other coercive measures taken by an angry Parliament. The Burgesses had declared June 1, the day Boston was closed by warships, a day of fasting and prayer.

The patriots then assembled in the Raleigh Tavern and called for a Continental Congress and a Virginia convention to elect delegates.

The course before them was clouded.

None wanted an open break with Bri-

tain, under whose laws they had lived and prospered. Yet few wanted to yield on issues upon which they felt their liberty depended.

Now, in August, the patriots again met, this time at Peyton Randolph's House. One member could not make it.

Young Thomas Jefferson was taken ill along the road, but he sent on a paper he had intended to present, a blistering attack upon King and Parliament.

One of those who attended that meeting recalled that many of the paragraphs were greeted by applause, but the more violent ones left the patriots chilled.

"They marched," he said, "far beyond the politicks of the day." Accordingly, the men who went to Philadelphia as delegates to the Continental Congress took along "tamer sentiments."

Jefferson's views, however, were printed by Clementina Rind, Williamsburg's only woman printer, under the title A Summary View of the Rights of British America. The document swept northward with its reasoned defiance of Britain. Instantly the little-known Burgess from the interior of Virginia stepped to the front rank of revolutionary spokesmen. The ringing words of the Summary View made it inevitable that Jefferson be chosen to pen the Declaration of Independence.

On my way back from the Peyton Randolph House, a dark wind sprang up under racing clouds. The shutters were banging and dogs were barking all over town. A great sea sound washed through the trees. It was winter blowing in.

II

fter our Merry Christmas came the long dark days . of deep winter. But also ~, . spring, and, long hidden deep in earth, a new world-like that yearning that stirred in men's souls two centuries ago, to bring something new and better into the society and government of men.

I sat before my house, half-dozing in the May sun. Shadows of the sycamore dappled the backs of horses drawing carriages by. Then muffied thunder made a distant echo. Doors opened. Garden gates swung wide. People gathered on the street as the thunder rumbled into

the steady roll of drums and the defiant trill of fifes.

The Fifes and Drums wheeled onto Duke of Gloucester Street. Leaping up, I ran with the rest to join them. We hurried towards the Capitol, but as I neared it my stride was broken by the roar of cannon.

Williamsburg was celebrating the climactic days of its 81 years of history -the prelude to Independence. In the spring of 1776, long decades of struggle towards self-government, of responsible public service by men who cherished their rights, came to fruition in a series of great documents.

Some parts of America were already aflame. Washington had driven the British from Boston with an amateur army .

In Philadelphia the small company of Virginians attending the Continental Congress marked time, awaiting instructions. Throughout the colonie~, men paused at the threshold of treason and looked towards Virginia.

From May 15to June 29 in an incredible fury of will, the Virginia Revolutionary Convention set the foundations of a free country. It instructed Virginia's delegates in Philadelphia "to declare the United Colonies free and independent states." In support of that resolution, the Declaration of Independence was written. The delegates in Williamsburg adopted George Mason's declaration of rights, creating a separate judiciary and guaranteeing freedom of the press and religion and trial by jury. It continues to inspire men in all nations and all times. Finally, the delegates wrote a constitution for Virginia that became a lasting model. Then they went home to the long and bitter war that would give their words life.

And Williamsburg, its great work done, died. In 1780, to escape British warships, the legislators moved to Richmond, leaving behind only memories and decaying buildings.

The crowd drifted away from the Capitol as dusk descended, blue in the cool shadows. It was time, also, for me to leave. I went back and locked up my house. It was not easy, for I had grown more than a little fond of that stillEND living century.

Williamsburg is a living reminder of the valour of American revolutionaries who include Paul Revere, remembered for his timely midnight ride.

The mural, above, by A. Larsell Ripley depicts his arrival at Lexington.

In mock fear, a guardsman, below, braces himself for the blast of his musket, much to the delight of his admirers. The youngsters are enjoying the Tricorn Hat TOllr which offers 150 minutes of history and fun.

VISION OF MY YOUTH would envy dynamic multi-talented Gordon Parks for the rare experience of reliving his boyhood. As the director of Warner Brothers-Seven Arts' motion picture The Learning Tree, he has recreated his old gang, old adversaries, teacher, environs, and his "Momma" and "Poppa." The movie is all Parks. Besides directing, he wrote the autobiographical novel upon which it is based, the script adaptation and even the background music. In addition, he cast himself in minor role, riding a horse in a few scenes.

The Learning Tree is a tale of the trials and tribulations, the joys and sorrows of a Negro farm boy, Newt Winger (the character based on young Parks), growing up in the Kansas of the 1920's. It covers Newt's twelfth to sixteenth years and closes with the death of his loving and beloved mother. The film relies on a technique that suggests misty reminiscence; a huge I,OOO-mmlens throws much of a scene out of focus, combining as in a dream a mixture of reality and the chimerical. Probing for remembered feelings, Parks finds meanings and emotions that bestow quality on what might have been merely a fast-moving adventure story.

MANY

A MAN

a

Versatile Gordon Parks, left, directs The Learning Treehis first full-length motion picture for a major Hollywood studio. A lifetime of extraordinary pain and pleasure has drawn Parks' face and sensitized his vision.

Maternal praise is bestowed on Newt. The film's title derives from his mother's advice: "You can learn just as much here as any place else. Some of the people are good and some bad-just like thefruit on a tree. Let this town be your learnin' tree."

Memories lying dormant in the inner recesses of mind come to a focus on the picnic to which the youth took his first girl friend.

Parks fervently concentrated on making his Learning Tree "grow with pace, honesty, tempo, simplicity and a moving camera."

Pitted against the bully Marcus in the ring, top, young Newt prays to God for help. Then suddenly remembering his mother's words, ÂŤGod couldn't favour one fighter against another," Newt battles with courage and goes on to win.

Fearless Newt saves a man, accused of murder, by pointing out the real killer in the courtroom. The Learning Tree is the story of what happened to Newt Winger during his perilous climb out of childhood.

Composing in his Hollywood penthouse, Parks tape-records tunes.

In composing, he jots down numbers instead of musical notes to represent the melody. 'Tree" ÂťQn,his piano is symbol of his film.

Many-sided geniusfinds expression in several creative fields. Here, a reflective Parks poses before one of his paintings. Among his other pursuits is writing. Author of three books, he plans to write two more.

"I'VE ALWAYS HADfaith in my dreams," says 57-year-old Parks of his successes'But before they took shape, he knocked about the country, working at such jobs as lumber jack, waiter, honky-tonk piano player. In an autobiography of shattering candour, A Choice of Weapons, he details his struggles and achievements.

A master of many media-photography, writing, painting, music-Parks not only taught himself each one but through dedication and determination has achieved a rare proficiency in all of them. His concertos and symphony have been performed on two continents and his recent book, A Poet and His Camera, is his third.

Photography has, however, always remained his first love. Recipient of many fellowships for his still pictures, in 1949 Parks became the first Negro staff photographer for Life magazine. "I believe," says Parks, "those photographers will be remembered in history who had the ability to record with passion and understanding." It is this very ability in his sensitive, candid pictures that has made Gordon Parks, once the poor boy of Fort Scott, Kansas, "one of the most powerful photographers" working in the United States today.

END

Camera has been Parks' most powerful weapon. His photographic essays in Life magazine have earned for him a lasting place in the history of photojournalism.

Rare visit to the sets of the studio by his well-known fashionmodel wife, Liz, is excuse for Parks-in the director's chairto take a break and relax.

Steinbeck and Hemingway FROMMANYPOINTS of view it seems inevitable that John Steinbeck and Ernest Hemingway should be closely associated in any critical survey of American fiction from the late 'twenties to the present, especially as these two figures are the foremost heirs of America's naturalistic literary tradition. But curiously they have very seldom been studied closely together with the purpose of yielding reciprocal illumination.

An interlocking examination of two writers with so broad a common base might lead to a sharper perception of each one's particular accomplishment, and could suggest certain possibly fruitful areas of inquiry.

To begin with the most obvious and least important, it is strange that two such thoroughly professional writers so much in the public eye should have left so little notice of each other. Of course all the facts are not known yet in either case; but if Hemingway, who felt so compelled to publicly attack the abilities and personalities of so many of his contemporaries, has left any judgment of Steinbeck, it has not yet been generally noticed. Although, on the other hand, Steinbeck did not much care to enter into criticism of his contemporaries, some remarks about Hemingway have come to light. The gist of all of them is a sincere admiration. To Covici of the Viking Press he wrote (ca. Feb., 1939), "I'm convinced that in many ways he is the finest writer of our time," and later, to his friend Ed Sheehan he confided, "I was afraid to read Hemingway until I was well along ... I knew he would influence me."

Responding to the present writer's suggestion that certain passages of To a God Unknown (1933) had been strongly influenced by the Hemingway style, Steinbeck replied that he "didn't read him until about 1940."

This awareness of Hemingway as a fellow writer was accompanied _by an interest in his personality. To Ed Sheehan, he wrote that in 1939 when Hemingway was reported dead in¡ Africa, "I was stunned-held a sort of personal wake. . . .

Hemingway was terribly worried about

JOHN STEINBECK

February

27, 1902

December 20,

1968

immortality. It was a gnawing thing with him." And to the same correspondent he wrote that when Hemingway was awarded the Nobel Prize in 1954 he was as pleased as if he had received it himself.

The literary careers of Steinbeck and Hemingway hold some basic differences, but also some interesting and perhaps more significant similarities. Hemingway started in journalism and began writing seriously in Europe under the tutelage and practical encouragement of such figures as Pound, Joyce, Stein, Fitzgerald, and others. But Steinbeck in California had no such help from those who had already arrived. Thus Hemingway was better known in critical circles with the appearance of his first little book, Three Stories and Ten Poems (Paris, 1923), than Steinbeck was in 1936 after the publication of four novels and several excellent short stories, including two parts of The Red Pony. Ironically, Hemingway, who started his career in the capitals of Europe, led most of his creative life in such places as Key West, a villa in Cuba, and a ranch in Idaho. He professed to detest New York and never stayed there except for brief visits.

Steinbeck, on the other hand, moved from rural and small town California to New York, where he lived the last 24 years Reprinted from the memorial issue of Stein- of his life. Yet Steinbeck the New Yorker beck Newsletter, Spring 1969, by permission of the author, Peter Lisca, and the editor, Dr. never stimulated the degree of public reTetsumaro Mayashi. Copyright Š 1969 by cognition as a personality of our time as did Hemingway, the geographic recluse.

Tetsumaro Mayashi.

Whereas in his early career Steinbeck did very little journalistic work, this was a form of writing on which he leaned heavily from World War II until the end of his life. And, except for a few pieces in the 1930s and some of his war dispatches, that journalism is of a very low calibre. But Hemingway did some distinguished work in this field throughout his career. Both writers won a Pulitzer Prize, Steinbeck for The Grapes of Wrath and Hemingway for The Old Man and the Sea. Both also received the Nobel Prize for literature, Hemingway in 1954, and Steinbeck in 1962.

When we turn from this angle on the two writers' personal careers to the progression of their work, certain important similarities appear. Both writers have published non-fiction books which are philosophically central to their major work: Hemingway, Death in the Afternoon (1932) and Green Hills of Africa (1935); Steinbeck, Sea of Cortez (1941). What bullfighting and big game hunting are to one writer, marine biology is to the other. Hemingway's love of Spain led him to propaganda and documentary work in The Spanish Earth (1937), and his personal efforts on behalf of the Loyalists. In The Forgotten Village (1941), Steinbeck turns to propaganda and documentary to help the Mexican villages come into the twentieth century.

Within one year of each other were published The Grapes of Wrath (1939) and For Whom the Bell Tolls (1940), both again devoted to social causes, both large novels, in some important senses epics, and both perhaps their respective authors' peak artistic achievements. In The Pearl (1947), Steinbeck reached the end of a long line of development started with To a God Unknown (1933). In Kino's throwing the pearl back into the sea Steinbeck returns man completely to the bosom of Nature, very much as Santiago returns in The Old Man and the Sea (1952), blessing birds, marlins, and even some sharks. Both are short, poetic, highly symbolic works. Finally, in Colonel Cantwell of Across the River and into the Trees (1950) Hemingway returns to his earlier, younger embodiments as Nick Adams and Frederick Henry in order to destroy them-symbolically, with that gesture on the bank of the Basso Piave; and realistically in the death of Colonel

Seldom has a comparison been made of the works of Steinbeck and Hemingway, closely associated as the fore" most heirs of America's naturalistic literary tradition. A leading critic points out similarities and differences.

Cantwell. With essentially the same purpose, Steinbeck in Sweet Thursday (1954) returns to Doc of Cannery Rowand, symbolically at least, kills him off by cheapening his character and marrying him to the prostitute, Suzy. Neither writer returned again to those areas of their material.

Similarly, in what may be called, loosely, the "materials" of their fiction, Steinbeck and Hemingway, while contrasting obviously, are unexpectedly similar. Most obvious is the degree to which the two writers are autobiographically present in their work. Hemingway's presence, from the early stories to Across the River and into the Trees, has been so pronounced as to seriously hamper an objective criticism and understanding of his work. Steinbeck, on the other hand, except for appearing quite directly in East of Eden, has very little autobiographical presence in his fictionnothing approaching Nick Adams, Frederick Henry, Robert Jordan, and Colonel Cantwell.

If the period of their writing is divided into the nineteen-twenties, the 'thirties, the 'forties and the 'fifties, further interesting comparisons emerge. For example, Hemingway, while only three years older than Steinbeck (and graduating from high school only two years earlier) seems a whole generation older by his participation in World War I and his involvement in the expatriate movement and the "lost generation." Although 1929 saw the appearance¡ of Steinbeck's first novel (Cup of Gold) and only the second novel of Hemingway (A Farewell to Arms), the latter novel completed an already solid fictional world created by the two editions of In Our Time (1924,1925), and The Sun Also Rises (1926).

This is an important part of our literary and cultu.ral heritage, a world to which Steinbeck, except in passing (East of Eden), has no reference.

It is also interesting to observe, and surprising in view of the strong tendency to identify Steinbeck's work with the proletarian movement of the 'thirties, that in fact not until 1936, with In Dubious Battle, did he publish any proletarian fiction. His earlier novels have little reference to the current social scene. While not as obviously proletarian as Steinbeck's strike novel, Hemingway's To Have and Have Not was

published in book form only a year after the strike novel; and it was he, not Steinbeck, who in that year addressed the Second American Writers' Congress. Of the seven books of fiction Steinbeck published in the 1930's, only three are concerned with the depression; and only one of the stories in The Long Valley deals with it directly. If, in a strictly limited sense, Hemingway's personal interest in the Spanish Loyalist cause can be called a proletarian one, then with his film documentary, his reporting, his play The Fifth Column, and For Whom the Bell Tolls, his involvement in the political-social realities of the 1930's can be seen as comparable to Steinbeck's, although the latter's involvement was entirely American.

Steinbeck's fiction is recalled in terms of themes, Hemingway's in characters.

Although both writers served as journalists in World War II (Hemingway, of course, in a more flamboyant manner), neither produced a novel using the war as major material. Steinbeck's The Moon Is Down (1942) can be identified with that war only by inference, purposely so; and Hemingway deals with that war but briefly through the reveries of Colonel Cantwell in Across the River and into the Trees (1950). Of the two writers only Steinbeck, in The Winter of Our Discontent (1961), has produced a work of fiction dealing directly with post-World War II society.

But then another contrast between the two writers is that Hemingway has seldom written about America at all, except in some early stories and To Have and Have Not. Although his major protagonists (except Santiago) are Americans, they live or at least act in Europe. Steinbeck, on the other hand, excluding his first novel-a historical romance-has set none of his major fiction outside the United States, unless one excepts The Pearl. In this connection it is pertinent to remark that of the two authors it is Steinbeck who in his fiction almost always gives us the sense of physical communities. With few exceptions (in some early stories, To Have and Have Not) Hemingway presents us with a com-

munity which is not so much physical as it is spiritual-an "in" group, whether they be a lost generation, fellow army officers, aficionados, hunters, guerrillas, etc. This difference is vitally related to the phenomenon that one tends to recall Steinbeck's fiction in terms of themes and Hemingway's in terms of characters.

Thus proportionately much more of the criticism has dealt with Hemingway's characters than with Steinbeck's. Certain comparisons, howeve.r, can be made. Both writers have been accused of creating animal-like characters on a very low level of morality and ratiocination.

There is not adequate space to discuss these familiar arguments here; but it should be pointed out, first, that both writers have created characters of considerable moral and intellectual sophistication-Jake Barnes, Robert Jordan, Colonel Cantwell; and Dr. Burton, Ethan Hawley, Doc, Samuel Hamilton. Secondly, those characters not of this intellectual calibre are employed very skilfully by both writers to reveal with great force significant aspects of human life not so readily accessible in more sophisticated personalities. Another similarity in their respective characters is the extent to which both writers admire in them skilfulness and knowledge.

In Steinbeck, the whole gamut of his admiration appears in The Wayward Bus from auto mechanic to stripteaser. In Hemingway this is equally obvious in his good soldiers, fishermen, or even economics professors (To Have and Have Not).

Related to this aqm~J;51tion in both writers is the frequent mentor-neophyte relationship between characters, as for example Colonel Cantwell-Renata and Billy Buck-Jody. The two writers are also similar in some ways in their treatment of women and the relationship between men and women. In Hemingway, perhaps only Brett and Pilar achieve real independence, and they seem to do so at the price of their femininity. And although Hemingway writes much more than Steinbeck about sexual love, it is the latter who most often presents married women sympathetically.

Both writers frequently present a close male companionship such as that of Jake and Bill or George and Lennie. Apropos of Lennie, it is interesting that Steinbeck continued

should, like Faulkner, so frequently use characters whom, as he describes Tularecito, "God has not quite finished." There is hardly a novel that does not contain a subnormal character.

Hemingway, on the other hand, eschews this kind of character completely, but does create and effectively use homosexual characters with surprising frequency. These are totally lacking in Steinbeck. Related to this point is Steinbeck's long sustained interest in psychology, particularly the Jungian variety, which is most important in his work before 1950. Significantly, his interest in Freudian psychology is associated with his later, least successful novels.

Certainly a major difference between the figures moving through these two authors' works is that between their heroes.

In Hemingway even Robert Jordan, the most committed and engaged of his heroes, is yet in an important sense an outsider, a loner pursuing essential goals.

The distinguishing personal mark of practically all Steinbeck heroes is their leadership and complete involvement in a communal action. There is another important difference which is almost a similarity. In Hemingway, the hero's action frequently demonstrates that a man may be destroyed but not defeated; in Steinbeck, that a man frequently survives, but does not succeed; dreams, but does not accomplish.

Style, of course, in all its aspects, is a major point of comparison,' although it is the most difficult to discuss adequately here. Steinbeck uses a much greater variety of prose styles than does Hemingway, who really has variations, on only one style.

But in some short stories and such novels as In Dubious Battle, Of Mice and Men, and The Pearl there is much ground for comparison. Steinbeck's prose is hardly ever the iceberg seven-eighths under the surface that Hemingway describes as his own ideal. Hemingway does make much more use of implication, the spaces made meaningful by the author's firm knowledge of what is left out. But both writers have reached a large popular audience in part because of a deceptively simple surface and their ability to write in terms of sensations, although here Steinbeck is more often abstract.

Symbolism is very important in both writers also, and the differences in its nature and purpose revealing. Both make extensive use of natural objects as symbols, and of animals, such as mice, turtles, bulls, fish, ducks; also, both use landscape

for this purpose, and climate-mountains, gulfstream, swamp, rain, snow, drought, valleys, tidepools, caves. An important difference, however, is that Steinbeck in addition moves much more frequently for his symbols into the worlds of literature, legend, and myth, some novels taking their basic structure therefrom-Tortilla

Flat, In Dubious Battle, The Grapes of Wrath, East of Eden, The Winter of Our Discontent, and others. He thus creates a "fourth dimension" of external reference not accomplished by' Hemingway, whose own "fourth dimension" is achieved by "rituals or strategies," "rites and ceremonies," and remains within the work itself.

Another point of contrast in style between the two writers is their use of narnitive point of view. This is closely related to the differences in the nature and role of their hero figures, as discussed above.

With the exception of his last novel, Steinbeck employs only third person more or less objective point of narration. Hemingway, however, uses varieties of first person narration extensively and also experiments with mixing or merging points of view. There is a philosophical as well as formal significance here.

Hemingway's hero demonstrates that a man may be destroyed but not defeated; Steinbeck's, that a man frequently survives, but does not succeed.

Finally, we come to those comparisons perhaps most important, but difficult to disengage entirely from those matters of style and materials discussed above. And here we return to these two writers' commori base as heirs of literary naturalism.

But while Hemingway has never abandoned, and consistently modified, this inheritance, Steinbeck, since T~e Wayward Bus, moved steadily away from it towards a view and value system essentially suburban-Christian.

Thus Hemingway in his last novel, The Old Man and the Sea, arrives at an almost mystic acceptance of man's consanguinity with all of Nature very similar to that out of which Steinbeck wrote, before 1947, such disparate works as The Grapes of Wrath and To a God Unknown. Santiago, in fact, is quite similar to Joseph Wayne of the latter novel (1933).

Until this change in Steinbeck-and some remnants of the earlier view persists, fossilized, in later works-this common

inheritance of the two writers led to another important similarity: that between Hemingway's stoic acceptance of a deterministic, indifferent universe, and Steinbeck's non-teleological thinking, as it is defined in Sea of Cortez.

Other corollaries follow. Both writers often present man in situations of violence.

But whereas the Hemingway hero frequently makes a career or avocation of such violence, whether hunting, bullfighting, boxing, running contraband, or soldiering, in Steinbeck's fiction (with the exception of the "Cain" figures il} East of Eden) the characters engage in violence only for some communal goal, as an unavoidable contingency of their purpose.

They are capable of great violence when necessary, but do not seek it out, as do Hemingway's characters sometimes, as the author has stated about his own adventures, to avoid doing violence to' themselves. This contrast between the two writers is pointed up hilariously in the hunt for big-horn sheep in Sea of Cortez.

But despite this difference about violence, both writers are notable for the depth of aesthetic feeling touched by Nature and their great ability to express it; and both also present man as incomplete without intimate contact with that world.

Here Hemingway (except for Santiago) stops, with Nature as sensation and physical discipline. But Steinbeck goes on to scientific engagement with Nature as well, while at the same time speculating earnestly on pantheistic, quasi-religious relationships. This contrast is to be expected in two authors of whom one (Green Hills of Africa) rejects the "small, dried" minds of the nineteenth-century American transcendentalists, and the other accepts as one of the major sources of his thinking in his greatest novel-The Grapes of Wrath.

Admittedly, this article does not answer many important ,questions. And sometimes, perhaps, not enough evidence has .been given to warrant raising them. Also some comparisons, though not many it is trusted, seem oversimplified, particularly as space severely limits discursive qualifications. But what is hoped emerges is the fact of the value of pursuing further such comparisons and others which may suggest themselves; and, in addition, the fact that those similarities between the two writers which may at first seem slight may be much more important than certain obvious differences, the reverse also being true.

END

Dear Sir: Dear Sir: On turning .to page 10 of October

Dear Sir: Thank you very much for the October issue of SPAN. I read the article by Mr. Robert S. McNamara on population explosion with great interest and found it absorbing, edU-/ cative and useful. We expect more such articles on other problems.

Will it not be useful to reproduce this article in Hindi so that a majority of the people who do not know English can have an idea of the nature and magnitude of the problem?

J

S.P. KARNWAL_ Lucknow

Editor's Note: SPAN cannot undertake the translation of this article into Hindi or any other language but is pleased to allow translation and republication by anyone interested in giving wider publicity to Mr. McNamara's ideas.

Dear Sir: SPAN, September 1969 issue, carries a most fascinating article on Gandhi from the book of the renowned author Louis Fischer. It was a sheer joy to read this article which presents one of the rarest facets of Gandhiji's life.

"We Came in Peace" created in our hearts a feeling of reverence for the unique achievement of man. How ridiculous it would be to say that man triumphed over nature. But how true it is that man understood nature and his understanding of nature helped him to take a mighty leap from the earth to the moon and back.

M.R. JOSHI Ludhiana

Dear Sir: Your September issue shows the U.S. flag fluttering on the moon. How does a flag flutter on the moon which has no atmosphere and therefore no winds? Did one of the astronauts use an air jet to "flutter" the flag for the photograph?

The photo of Aldrin by Armstrong with the reflection on the visor is marvellous.

T.R. RAJGOPAL Gwalior

Editor's Note: The flag was kept straight by a wire stiffener that held the colours erect in the vacuous lunar environment. It had folds because it was kept rolled up during the flight.

1969 issue of SPAN you'll find Edwin Aldrin pole-vaulting upside down in the photograph printed there. I think the readers should be informed that the photograph has not been correctly reproduced.

ARUN KHANNA Kanpur

Editor's Note: Reader Khanna is right. The photograph has been printed upside down. The error is regrefft!d.

Dear Sir: Although the postman brought my copy of the October issue of SPAN as I was¡ leaving for work, I could not resist the temptation of going through it even at the cost of missing my bus.

Many thanks for reproducing a very pleasant portrait of Neil Armstrong. Surprisingly how much he looks like Yuri Gagarin! And why not?

Both are pioneers!

R.Y. PANDIT Nagpur

I I

I

I

I

Dear Sir: The September issue of SPAN, depicting man's footprints on the moon was, to say the least, commendable. The photographs accompanying the leading article "We Came in Peace" were wonderfully fascinating. Their vividness and clarity are astounding and underline the technological advancement made by NASA. The full page colour photograph of Astronaut Edwin Aldrin standing in the silent Sea of Tranquillity is most suitable for framing and is truly a memento of the historic epoch-making mission of Apollo 11.

MADHUR

MITTAL Amritsar

Dear Sir: Your interview with Ambassador Keating (October, 1969) was very timely, I was present at the Azad Maidan, Bombay, when he delivered a speech on the occasion of the astronauts' visit to the city. His speech was short but car~ied punch. The way he ended it-Jai Hind! Jai America I-was characteristic of his personality.

LLEWELLYN

D'SOUZA Bombay

Indian scientists have responded energetically to the challenge posed by continuing food shortages. Their researches into various aspects of agricultural development, co-ordinated with international activity in .this field, have led to new cropping patterns and are achieving remarkable, unprecedented increases in crop yields and farm incomes.

wait

by VS. NANDA

PHOTOGRAPHS

BY AVINASH PASRICHA

per kilogram lower than the -ravoured'amber--eoltfured''''' AT A RECENT CONVOCATION of the post-graduate school of Punjab wheat. By subjecting a Mexican red-grained dwarf the Indian Agricultural Research Institute (IARI) in Delhi, variety to gamma-ray treatment and mutation breeding, Prime Minister Indira Gandhi was presented with an unDr. S. Swaminathan, Director of IARI, and Dr. G. Varuusual kind of bouquet. It was made of the ears and seeds ghese, one of his former associates, were able to obtain an of the new high-yield varieties of foodgrains-now the major ingredient of the "green revolution." Of small inamber-grained mutant which is now being marketed under trinsic value, this gift to the Prime Minister symbolized an the name of Sharbati Sonora. Besides the desired improveaddition of more than Rs. 500 crores a year to the national ment in colour, the mutation process also resulted in an increase to about 16.5 per cent in the protein content as income from farming. compared with 14 per cent of the parent strain.

The history of these new varieties of cereals which are changing the face of Indian and world agriculture is of unOne of the most popular varieties of wheat developed as a result of research at IARI, the Punjab Agricultural usual interest. Their evolution marks the latest phase in the continuing improvement of agriculture since the mid-eighUniversity, Ludhiana, and the U.P. Agricultural University, teenth century when crop rotation was first introduced. This Pantnagar, is Ka/yan Sona, now being grown under different radical change in cultivation techniques was followed a names in a large area extending from Tamil Nadu to Turkey.

It is rust-resistant, with amber-coloured grains and a yield hundred years later by another landmark-the production of chemical fertilizers. The remarkable results achieved with potential as high as seven tons per hectare under proper the use of fertilizers established the relationship between conditions of cultivation. input and output in agriculture. But a scientific advance Rice cultivation in India has an ancient history and the Jeypore tract of Orissa State was one of the first main centres which perhaps has had a more profound effect on agriculof rice farming in the world. It is ironic that in spite of this tural development than any other single factor is the discovery of the laws of genetics at the beginning of this cenIndia should be at the bottom of the scale in rice yields, the present average being about 1.1 tons per hectare against tury.

It is through genetic upgrading, combined with a caremore than four tons in Japan. Grown over some 35 million fully determined order 'Of crofYT6tatiotf al1d'correct use of ._. hectares, rice is India's biggest crop and the main diet of fertilizers, that Indian scientists have been able to achieve more than two-thirds of the population. An increase in rice increases in crop yields and incomes which were considered yields is therefore an essential objective of any national plan for improvement of food supplies. unattainable only a few years ago. These achievements give In the case of rice, too, quality and local preferences. reason to hope that, barring unforeseen and stronglyadaffect the selection of varieties for cultivation. Of the two verse circumstances, the country will reach the desired goal of self-sufficiencyin food within the next two or three years. main species of rice grown in the world-Indica and Japollica Spectacular results have been achieved in wheat pro-the latter has a glutinous grain and is disliked by the duction through the introduction of Mexican varieties of Indian consumer. It is the Indica varieties which are mainly dwarf wheat which now cover more than two million hecunder cultivation, and current effort is directed at improving tares of Indian farmland. With strong stems, they have the yield, grain quality and disease resistance of these varieproved particularly useful in the Northern India wheat belt ties through hybridization and mutation breeding.

Of the strains produced at the International Rice Rewhich is often subject to late winter rains and hail-storms.

Rice cultivation has been revolutionized and the cropping search Institute in Manila, the most successful in India and pattern radically changed in many parts of the country several other countries is IR-8-a dwarf plant with stiff, through the use of the quick-maturing Taiwan and Philippine erect leaves, highly responsive to fertilizer and unaffected by variations in the length of the day. Because of its high dwarf varieties Taichung Native-l and IR-8, or crosses of these with basmati or other indigenous grains. Bajra, jOlVar yield, IR-8 has been called "the miracle rice" and has yielded and pulses are all being adapted to new conditions of bumper harvests in Kerala and some other parts of the growth and new development rhythms induced by the country. But the miracle is not wholly beneficial: the variety "magic wand of science." is very susceptible to bacterial and virus diseases during Increased crop yield, while vitally important, is not the growth and, because the rice sticks in cooking, it is not only objective of the scientific breeder. He has to take into favoured as a table dish in India. account both quality and local prejudices born of centuryExperiments carried out by the All-India Rice Improveold habits. In India there is a distinct preference for an ment Project have recently led to the development of two amber-coloured variety of wheat suitable for making chapatnew strains suited to local conditions which have been given tis. So strong is this "colour prejudice"-as Mr. Jagjivan the lovely Indian feminine names of Jaya and Padma. Both Ram, India's Minister for Food and Agriculture, termed itvarieties are the product of painstaking research to exploit that the red or white-grained American and other imported the high yield potential of the dwarf plant type of rice. Unwheats have been selling at a price about twenty-five paise like IR-8, the ears of the plants ate'not hidden by leaves. continued!

Sound post-harvesting practices must supplement research for maximum benefit to country's economy.

and absorb more sunlight, maturing seven to ten days earlier. Jaya is similar in grain quality to the Philippine strain but yields about ten per cent more under a variety of agro-c1imatic conditions. Padma has a lower yield but its slender, superior grain and good cooking quality should earn it better consumer acceptance and a higher price.

Another hybrid dwarf variety of the Basmati or fine grain type is at present in the final stage of tests at IARI. Taking 110 days to mature, it is expected to yield three crops a year in Southern India and two in the north where severe winter conditions have ruled out rice cultivation.

While colour and cooking behaviour of foodgrains are important, a more vital element of quality is their protein content. Protein deficiency can result not only in physical weakness but also in intellectual dwarfism and, especially in the case of children, it can cause irreversible brain damage. Since millions of people in India depend on a diet consisting mainly of wheat or rice and pulses for their protein, one of the objects of genetic upgrading is to improve the protein content of these foodgrains both qualitatively and quantitatively. In the case of wheat the protein is evenly distributed through the grain but in rice it is largely on the outer surface and polishing can remove or seriously diminish it. Research in rice culture aims, among other things, at redistributing the protein through the entire grain.

Pulses are an important source of protein for the vast number of vegetarians in India. Unfortunately, because of the farmers' tendency to substitute cotton and other cash crops for pulses, the per capita availability of pulses has decreased. Present research hopefully will lead to the development of varieties of pulses with a relatively short period of growth so that they can form part of an economic crop rotation pattern. IARI is experin:enting with varieties of arhar which take only 110 to 120 days to mature against the normal period of 250 days; a speci:ll variety of moong takes as little as 50 days.

Systematic, scientifically-based crop rotation is part of the new agricultural strategy aimed at keeping a farm family busy throughout the year and bringing about a substantial increase in its income. On one of the fields in the Institute's experimental farm, a year-round quadruple cropping pattern is adopted as follows: maize, July-September; potatoes, September-December; wheat, December-April; moong, AprilJuly. This pattern enables the farmer to make maximum use of sunlight throughout the year. Under optimum conditions the net income from one hectare of land cultivated according to such a plan is estimated at Rs. 10,000.

Intensive cultivation through proper crop rotation is ' essential not only to boost farm incomes, but because it is not possible to bring any more land under cultivation in India without disturbing the ecological balance. Apart from increased yields, rotation helps preserve the fertility of the soil since different crops tap nutrition from different layers

of the soil; wheat and paddy have short roots while cotton is a deep-rooted plant.

As crop patterns change and science develops a new type of physiological and morphological plant architecture, fresh problems arise for the researcher. To mention one: in the intensive rotation cycle where one crop immediately follows another, it is important to ensure that successive crops do not have any disease or pest in common. Next only to irrigation and fertilizer, the timely use of insecticides and pesticides is essential for plant growth. Striking evidence of this is provided by two adjacent fields ofjowar on IARI's farm. One, where insecticide has been used, is rich and luxuriant and the other stunted and languishing.

In spite of the many irrigation projects which have been completed in recent years, only about 20 per cent of the area under cultivation in India is irrigated at present. A major problem of agricultural development is to devise means of meeting the needs of the vast unirrigated area which is subject to continual drought during years of poor rainfall. Various techniques are being evolved to solve the problem. Foremost is the cultivation of varieties of foodgrains which would come to maturity before the anticipated drought. This implies a careful analysis of weather data and early sowing. Then there is the application of fertilizer under dry farming conditions. This can be done through foliar feeding-the application of fertilizer to the leaves of the plant by spraying at the proper time. Aerial spraying of fertilizer is a possibility. Lastly, water can be conserved in dry areas by better methods of land tilling and construction of low-cost reservoirs using indigenous material such as bentonite clay.

IARI has built a reservoir of this type on its farm.

These are some of the ways in which the many-pronged drive for greater food production is being carried on by Dr. Swaminathan and his associates at IARI and by other agricultural specialists and extension workers throughout the country. Forty-four-year-old Dr. Swaminathan is typical of the select group of Indian scientists whose dedicated labours are helping to transform India's economy. At one time a student of the Institute which he now heads as director, he received his Ph.D. in agriculture from the University of Cambridge, England, in 1952. Later he was employed in the University of Wisconsin in the United States. On his return to India he joined the Central Rice Research Institute in Cuttack and had valuable experience there prior to being posted to IAR!. He was head of the Botany Department of IARI before becoming its Director in 1966.

Discussing the activities of the Institute, Dr. Swaminathan described how the Indian farmer's scepticism about the new varieties offoodgrains and new cultivation practices was fast disappearing. In 1965 it was difficult to induce farmers to take to seed production. Since rapid multiplication of new seeds of the desired quality and purity is essential for cultivation of the improved varieties on a large

scale, the staff and students of the Institute organized a seed village project to supply the needs of the Union Territory of Delhi. Village Jounti, about 20 miles from Delhi, was selected for this project and a small number of farmers were persuaded to sow the new varieties of wheat on some 28 hectares of land. The results proved so satisfactory that the project developed into a co-operative venture for the production and marketing of seeds, known as the Jawahar Jounti Seed Co-operative Society. The Society's membership now comprises almost all the farming families in the village, and it has given an impetus to an all-round improvement of agricultural practices.

Inasmuch as the war against hunger is of international concern, it is fitting that the fruits of research in any part of the world should be shared by all nations. The successful cultivation of the high-yielding dwarf varieties of wheat in India owes much to the pioneering work of an American scientist, Dr. N.E. Borlaug, and his co-workers in Mexico.

In rice growing a major contribution has been that of the International Rice Research Institute in Manila under the direction of Dr. Robert F. Chandler, whom the Government of India honoured with one of its International Rice Year Awards in 1966. Foodgrains research in India has been aided over the past few years by various grants from the United States Government. Of the current research projects at IARI, eighteen are being financed by the U.S. Department of Agriculture. The Department is also assisting projects being undertaken by the Indian Council of Agricultural Research.

Agricultural research is concerned not only with exploring every avenue leading to increased productivity but also, in the words of Dr. Swaminathan, with "scientific destruction of factors causing instability in production."

If the country is to derive the full benefit of this research, it must further be supplemented by adequate post-harvesting technology. For instance, to handle the bumper paddy harvest in Tanjore during the last two years, the Food Corporation of India had to set up special mechanical drying centres and the railways provided hundreds of wagons each day to transport the paddy quickly to mills and marketing centres.

Other important factors affecting production are credit and price. The nationalized banks in India are expected to provide credit to the extent of Rs. 500 crores over a two-year period to some one-and-a-half million small farmers. And price policy must continue to be based on a balance between adequate remuneration to the farmer and a fair price for the consumer.

Agriculture is now rightly accorded the highest priority in India's national planning and must move fast to achieve self-sufficiencyfor an expanding population. As the late Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru remarked: "Everything else can wait but agriculture cannot."

END

As part of research at JARl, Delhi, Dr. G.S. Sirohi (right) and a colleague study the effects of light and temperature on plants.

Dr. A. Austin of JARJ analyzes the amino acid content of cereals to determine the right balance of acids for proper protein value.

'" 2 '" ~ :i

~ 0

o

P:

IN THE HISTORY of art, few movements have rivalled the spectacular growth of psychedelic art and its all-pervading influence on other areas of American life. Ever since its birth in the mid-'sixties, the new trend has been spreading like wildfire-to the delight of some, the dismay of others. And while the critics debate the permanence of psychedelia as an art form, its phantasmagoric assault on the senses is everywhere.

Rooted in the so-called "hippie" movement, psychedelic art began as an attempt to recreate the experiences of a "trip" taken under the effects of one of the mind-expanding hallucinatory drugs. Today there are few places on the American scene that have not been influenced by its sensuous melange of wild images, dazzling colours and undulating shapes. And it is a rare citizen who has not to some degree been exposed to psychedelic art -either on TV, in magazines, on record albums, or even woven into Text continued on page 48

Poster portrait of BeatIe George Harrison photographed by Richard Avedon. Š 1967 by NEMS Enterprises, Ltd. All rights reserved.

Published and distributed by Cowles Education Corporation, 488 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10022, in co-operation with Richard Avedon Poster Inc .. ex~ elusively under licence from Maximus Enterprises, Ltd. Reproduced from a poster distributed by Cowles.

At San Francisco's Print Mint, right, even the ceiling is plastered with posters.

Sequins highlight psychedelic Courtesy Douglas Kirkland,

Look.

makeup.

Since psychedelic art first appeared in brightly-coloured posters, it has spread like wildfire to other areas of the visual arts.

the fabric of window drapes or the new dresses that women are wearing.

Psychedelic art first appeared in brightly-coloured posters announcing rock 'n' roll concerts, and its presence is still most obvious in the current poster craze that is sweeping the United States. Across the country a rash of posters has broken out on the walls of museums, private homes, executive boardrooms, and hippie pads. For the young people of America the poster is more than a way of decorating their rooms-it is a banner reflecting their interests and ideals, their hopes for a brave new world.

Because of this, many psychedelic posters reveal traces of Oriental mysticism and the quest for a greater spirituality. Their ex'otic colour combinations are often printed in fluorescent inks, and their sinuous lines recall the turn-of-the-century Art Nouveau style, characterized by forms of nature and tendril-like curves. In returning to natural, organic, growing things, the flower children of today seem to express their revolt against the great de-human-

REV-UP,

ization that has taken place in our contemporary, industrialized, mechanized age. The affinity between the psychedelic artists and their Art Nouveau predecessors is greatest perhaps in the matter of lettering, with the cryptic, flowing letters of the earlier style sometimes distorted to the razor-edge of total illegibility. But as one observer of the psychedelic scene said: "We might assume that the hippie is not interested in instant communication."

Many psychedelic artists have progressed from poster-painting to other creative fields. One of the most successful is Peter Max who sold more than a million posters, then started designing dishes, stationery and clock faces. Now psychedelic designs are appearing on clothing, jewellery and home furnishings. And more avantgarde enthusiasts are painting luminous psychedelics right on their skins-sometimes covering themselves from head to toe.

A much more dramatic phenomenon is obtained from a staged multi-media combination of several psychedelic art effects to produce a kaleidoscope of colours, lights, sounds and movements.

One "kinetic theatre piece" called Snows was performed not long ago in New York utilizing six performers dressed in aluminium foil, assorted film projectors and a battery of stroboscopic lights.

Signals linked to the shiftings and turnings of spectators in their seats helped activate the lighting and thereby cued the performers.

Multi-media art has been transported into many "total environment" nightclubs such as New York City's Electric Circus, whose cavernous interior throbs with hallucinatory images and mindjerking "rock" music sounds. Explained one media-mixer cryptically, "We create an overload situation of sensory inputs where you can't bring in all your critical baggage."

Today's artists are also designing elaborate complexes that completely surround the spectator. One recent exhibition attracted audiences of 1,500 on nine consecutive evenings to see a series of "happenings" created by a group of artists in conjunction with engineers of the Bell Telephone Company. Part technology, part art, this "turned-on" demonstration filled the entire auditorium with the thump of a heartbeat, while the smack of a tennis ball against a racket activated a bombardment of flashes of light.

Even the traditionally staid business community has been affected, and the "tuned-in" Wall Street Journal has called psychedelic "a magic sales word." Television and magazine advertisements by once conservative corporate giants like the American Telephone and Telegraph Company are filled with the new sights and sounds. And there have been cases when dull executive meetings have been turned into psychedelic happenings.

Several months ago Scott Paper Company spent $15,000 to hire a hippie group to make an "inter-media kinetic environment" out of a series of sales conventions. The presentations featured a vast array of strobe lights, movie cameras, and "rock" groups yelling "Great Scott!" When one spectator asked a Scott product manager how anybody could possibly take in all that was going on, he replied: "You don't have to. That's only necessary in a sequential message. We're opening up the multiple channels of total sensori um."

This answer of course clarifies nothing, but it does underline one fact: Whether psychedelic art is here to stay or just another passing fad, most Americans are in on the act-whether they like it or not.

END