March 1992

Page 1

Face-Lift for Ajanta andEllora


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President George Bush recently announced his intention to nominate Thomas Pickering as America's next ambassador to India. Pickering, our current ambassador to the United Nations, is one of the most experienced and distinguished career members of the U.S. Foreign Service. The fact that the President has chosen someone of Pickering's reputation and stature for New Delhi underlines the importance that the Bush Administration places in America's relations with India. Those relations have shown marked improvement of late, something that our current ambassador, William Clark, Jr., addresses in an article that begins on page 21. As he notes, "It's a new world out there, one that is shrinking in many ways. And as this globe gets smaller, India and the United States are happily moving closer together." What Ambassador Clark understandably neglects to mention is the central role he has played in creating that movement. I have had the pleasure of serving under several excellent ambassadors, and I sincerely can say that I never have worked with one who was more skillful and assiduous in improving relations between the host country and the United States. Ambassador Clark has made an enormous contribution to strengthening the ties between our two countries in every field of endeavor. We follow Ambassador Clark's article with one by a distinguished Indian public servant, Ambassador Inam Rahman, who takes an in-depth look at America's role in this rapidly changing world. Rahman told us about a seminar held several years ago at the American Studies Research Centre in Hyderabad where it was asserted that Indian social scientists had contributed little to the understanding of America. Now that he has retired from public service, Rahman has undertaken a personal' project in research and writing "to understand American society on its own terms, to appreciate the concerns and the tensions, the achievements and the aspirations, the purposes and the dreams of the American people." The project, he says, "reflects' a strong desire to explore the ways in which America may make its unique contribution to the fulfillment of the universal dream of a better future for all." He adds, "The questions ofleadership and change in contemporary societies, and the evolution of America as a distinct civilization, have been at the center of my intellectual concerns for a long time." One area in which India and America have a good understanding of each other's accomplishments and capabilities is' the field of science and technology. Substantial credit for that happy state of affairs must go to Dr. Peter Heydemann, who has been associated with India for more than 20 years and who currently heads the American Embassy's science office. He recently sat down with SPAN's editors to discuss the multifaceted activities of his office. In the interview that begins on page 42, Heydemannnotes that bilateral scientific cooperation has had the continued support of the leaders of both of our countries and is one of t~e bases of our political relations. -S.F.D.

2 7

The Board Takes Center Stage

by Suzanna Andrews

Is There an American Acting Style?

10

'Realer Than Real'

14

Focus On ...

16 21

Management-Speeding

Ahead

by Steven Stosny

by Brian Dumaine

Closer Together in a Shrinking World by Ambassador William Clark Jr.

24 29

America in a Changing World

34

On the Lighter Side

35

Breaking the Academic Mold

37 39

Celebrating the Essay

42 46

Hospital on Wheels

by Inam Rahman

by Glen D'souza

by Angelo John Lewis

by Darshan Singh Maini

The Historian as Artist

An Essay by Barbara Tuchman

A Scientific Conn~ction

An Interview With Peter Heydemann

Cave Conservation

by Rebecca M. Patton

Frontco>er: An Indo-U.S. project aims to conserve the Ajanta and Ellora caves and make th.esites more attractive for tourists. This photograph of an Ajanta fresco is by Benoy K. Behl. See pages 46-48. Photographs: Front cover-Benoy K. Behl, courtesy Indira Gandhi National Centre for the Arts. 2-3© Theo Westenberger 1990.10-13-10 top-© 1989. National Gallery of Art; #I-© 1971.National Gallery of Art; #2-© 1977. National Gallery of Art; #3-© 1981. National Gallery of Art; #4-(f) 1952. Paul Strand Archive; #5-© 1955. Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. Sophie Friedman Fund, Paul 1950. National Gallery of Art; #7-© 1950. The Museum of Eine Arts. Strand Archive; #6-© Houston, Museum purchase. Pictures page 10 top and #1, 2, 3,4, and 6 courtesy Southwestern Bell Corporation Paul Strand Collection. All pictures copyright Aperture Foundation, Inc. 17-eourtesy General Electric. 18-eourtesy AT&T; courtesy Brunswick Corporation. 19-eourtesy Navistar. 20courtesy Motorola. 21-R.K. Sharma. 23-David Valdez. The White House. 25-Avinash Pasricha. 29-32-Dayanita Singh. 42-Avinash Pasricha. 46·47-eourtesy Rebecca Patton except 47 top, bottom and bottom right by Rupinder Khullar. Erratum: In "Other-Worldly Matters" (SPAN, February 1992), in the explanation of Fermat's last theorem in column one of page 42 the word "impossible" was inadvertently printed as "possible:' It should re.ad:"The theorem states that it is impossible to divide a cube into two cubes We regret the error.

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Names and addresses of individuals who own the newspaper and partners or shareholder.s holding more than one percent of the total capital I. Stephen F. Dachi. hereby declare lhat the particulars given above are true to lhe beSt of my knowledge and belief. Date: Feb,u",y 15, 1992

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Undeterred by a $250,000 deficit, the Manhattan Theater Club's board of directors funds ambitious projects out of a sense of commitment to serious theater.

The Board Takes

Center Stage A by SUZANNA ANDREWS

t 8:15 on a September morning, the executive commIttee of the Manhattan Theater Club (MTC) has gathered for a breakfast meeting in the downstairs lobby of New York's City Center-and Lynne Meadow, the MTC's artistic director, is late. Michael H. Coles, president of the board of directors, briskly calls the session to order. The former chairperson of Goldman Sachs International doesn't like to be kept waiting. The cochairpersons of the MTC board, Paul B. Kopperl and Edwin C. Cohen, offer a few remarks. Cohen is in midsentence when he realizes that he has lost his audience. Fifteen heads have turned toward a rustling noise at the top of the nearby staircase. There stands Lynne Meadow-tall with raven-black hair, her deep tan set off by strawberry-pink lipstick. Framed by gleaming brass banisters, grinning and waving in an impromptu imitation of Miss America, she starts her descent to the laughter and applause of the executive committee. Finally reaching the conference table, Meadow begins her presentatiOI1 with theater gossip: The guest list at the recent birthday bash for a prominent British director, tidbits from a weekend spent at the home of a famous playwright. Then she gets down to business. "There is a play that J have in mind," she says, "but we'll have to discuss it financially." Pause. "It has 16 characters." Necks stiffen aroun<o the table. "And a swimming pool." Pause. "On the stage." She smiles hopefully. "That people swim in." Silence. Coles scowls. Kopperl looks nonplussed. Cohen fiddles with a carton of fruit juice. John W. Spurdle, Jr., the treasurer, utters a loud, disbelieving guffaw. Yet Meadow will probably get her expensive play, 16 characters, swimming pool From

T!u' Nell' York Times Maga::ine.

Copyright

<D 1990 by

The New York Times Magazine. Reprinted by permission.


and all. Somehow, the members of the board will find the money. During the years they have worked together, the directors of the board of the Manhattan Theater Club and Meadow have forged a remarkably close working relationship. At heart, it rests on the shared conviction that their nonprofit theater represents something special in the cultural life of New York and the nation, an institution that nurtures the serious, sometimes demanding works that so seldom make it to Broadway these days. "The MTC is known for doing a lot of new plays," says Benjamin Mordecai, managing director of the Yale Repertory Theater. "When you do that, you have a lot of ,critical' failures. It takes great courage. The top critics come. If the play gets blasted, it's done across America." For all its achievements, the theater club is not immune to the ailments afflicting the theater in general. Federal grants are static, and state and corporate support is waning. Like many urban producers, the MTC faces an aging audience base. In 1989 it had a $250,000 deficit. Yet the theater club has devised a daring long-range solution that calls for an array of new programs and a major increase in its budget. In 1990, when the local and national economies were stagnant, the MTC undertook its largest-ever capital funds drive.

F

or many upwardly striving business people, membership on the board of directors of an arts institution is perceived as a way to join the company of the rich and famous. Not at the Manhattan Theater Club. The 3 I-member board has some high-net-worth individuals; 'but it -includes neither Fortune 500 chief executives nor headline-grabbing socialites. For example, Coles, 59, is a limited partner at Goldman, Sachs & Company; Kopperl, 58, heads his own corporate financial advisory boutique of Delano & Kopperl; Cohen, 49, is managing general partner of General Atlantic Partners, a small private-investment firm; Spurdle, 54, is a retired managing director of J.P. Morgan & Company. What the theater club offers its board is a chance to help launch the careers of such actors as Holly Hunter and Amanda Plummer and to provide a stage for the work of such playwrights as Alan Ayckbourn, Beth Henley, and Terrence McNally. To a degree that is unusual on most nonprofit boards, the top directors of the MTC board treat that responsibility as a full-time job. It was the board that prodded Lynne Meadow and Barry Grove, the managing director, to confront the theater's longterm economic problems. The MTC's traditional artistic risk taking, the board decided, would now have to be matched by a significant business risk. But the decision was not made quickly or easily. In his soft-spoken way, Kopperl reflects the board's deep concern. "I believe in what we're doing," he says. "I don't think we're being irresponsible. I don't see it as growthjust to be big. I see it as a case of survival." Each season, the MTC presents nine plays at its two theaters in City Center, five of them finished works on Stage I; the

others, on Stage II, sometimes works in progress being rewritten even as they are shown. The theater also sponsors 12 readings a year at the center by novelists and poets. But the soul of the Manhattan Theater Club can be found some three kilometers south of City Center's midtown neighborhood in a rundown area of the Chelsea district. Up a narrow, dark flight of stairs in what was once a longshoremen's hiring hall are the administrative offices and rehearsal rooms. The linoleum-tiled hallway is crowded with actors. Some are headed for rehearsals, others mumble their lines as they wait to audition. From behind a closed door comes the clickety-clack of tap dancers; in the ladies' room a singer practices her scales. In cluttered offices, desks are piled high with scripts. The walls are papered with photos of theater greats-actors such as Glenn Close, Tim Curry, Colleen Dewhurst, and Sam Waterston who have graced the MTC stages. In part, the lure has been the theater's reputation for producing challenging, quality plays-Statements After an Arrest Under the Immorality Act, Athol Fugard's 1977 anti-apartheid work, for example, or the 1986 revival of Loot, Joe Orton's farce that lacerates the church, the police, and the medical and legal professions. The other attraction has been 45-year-old Lynne Meadow. She has been selecting the theater's plays for 20 of the MTC's 22 years, and she is well known in theatrical circles for her willingness to take chances and for her perfectionism. In one case, unhappy with the director's work, she stepped in and restructured a play the night before it was to open. Her opposite number, Barry Grove, 40, has run the business side since 1975. An incisive, logical man who favors conservative attire, he stands in marked contrast to the flamboyant Meadow, but they have maintained what is probably the theater world's longest-running amicable partnership. "Barry anticipates," says Meadow, grinning at Grove as she sums up their relationship. "I worry." The MTC started in 1970 as a neighborhood group that offered after-dinner play readings in the Upper East Side living . rooms of its members. By 1971 it had grown large enough to have its own space, a complex of rooms at the National Bohemian Hall where the company began to win local and then national recognition. In 1985, after much dispute with the hall's owners, in and out of the courts, the MTC completed the¡ relocation of its theater operations to City Center and its headquarters to Chelsea. That same year, the board asked Meadow to map out her vision of the theater's artistic future-"as if," Grove says, "the restraints of money were taken away." The boardfound her ambitions financially sobering: The MTC had been sliding in and out of an operating deficit from one year to the next. Clearly, it was time for the board of directors to think hard about reorganizing the theater.

Meadow, a drink in hand, looks on approvingly as her board members chat with a handful of actors and directors. On this


September evening, the board is gathered for its first social event of the season in a Fifth A venue art gallery owned by a fellow member, Edward R. Roberts, a limited partner at Goldman, Sachs. "They love this sort of thing," Meadow says. Board members attend readings and rehearsals; they dine with playwrights and actors. "There is an obligation," says Jim G. Kilpatric, a senior vice president at AT&T, "to keep yourself conversant with the theater and to have ideas." Meadow recalls talking to Kilpatric about a play in rehearsal. There were rough spots in the early version of the script, says Meadow, "and Jim had the most insightful, intelligent, and radical idea of how to make it better." Says Meadow, laughing, "Some of the people on the board who you think should have the most conservative tastes in theater are the funkiest." Ed Cohen scouts out new writers, and recommends scripts to Meadow that are often very daring; Meadow produced one that was, she says, "a very difficult play"-in other words, a box-office flop. Paul Kopperl has been known to attend some shows as many as eight times. During one board meetirtg, Meadow was discussing the rehearsal of a well-known playwright's work when Coles interrupted. "He said it very innocently, but he asked how many rewrites the playwright had done," she says. "What he wanted to know was whether I was being as tough on an established writer as I would be on a new one." The commitment of the board's leaders to the MTC's mission was dramatically tested recently when some corporate donors, uncomfortable with the content of a proposed theater club show, refused to back it. The play, The Art of Success, by Nick Dear, dealt in graphic detail and language with the debauched life and controversial art of 18th-century artist, William Hogarth. Coles, Roberts, and Cohen took out their checkbooks and underwrote a large part of the production. The Art of Success opened to critical acclaim.

The theater club's move to City Center in 1985 had catapulted the MTC onto a bigger stage. As the businesspeople on the board thought about reorganizing the theater, they turned for help in a familiar direction. In 1987, the management consulting firm of McKinsey & Company began to study the theater on a pro bono basis. According to a McKinsey partner, "We told them you can't just admire your pretty baby anymore; it's now a growing child." Among the consultants' recommendations: Cutbacks in staff, increased computerization, the appointment of marketing specialists to the board, and the expansion of the board to include some heavyweight corporate executives with good contacts. The recommendations were approved by the board in June 1988, with one notable exception. Most of the directors were deeply concerned that the addition of prominent executives could alter the chemistry, destroying the teamwork developed over the years. Although the proposal to expand the board was

defeated, the issue would later come back to haunt them. The consultants also urged that the MTC develop a longterm strategic plan. The board soon called in Meadow for another look into the future. This time, though, it was not to be just a wish list but a detailed report on where the theater should go and how to get there. The draft that emerged painted a dreary picture. Promising playwrights were being lost to television and movies, and so were budding actors. The number of Broadway producers willing to invest in risky plays was shrinking rapidly, leaving more and more of the burden for producing serious shows on the backs of nonprofit theaters in general and MTC in particular.

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here was more. About 60 percent of the $5 million operating budget was covered by ticket sales, mainly among the 13,000 people who buy season subscriptions. Now that market was saturated: The MTC had reached "maximum subscription potential." Meanwhile, government support for the arts was at a low ebb and corporations were hunkering down for a recession. If these trends continued, the theater could face an earning gap of $2 million by 1994. The assumption was that the MTC's major donors would hold fast-institutions such as the Shubert Foundation and the Eleanor Naylor Dana Charitable Trust, corporations such as Philip Morris and AT&T. But these patrons were not likely to make up the looming shortfall; new sources of income would have to be found or the scope and mission of the theater would have to be curtailed. It was a familiar dilemma for a business under pressure: Cut costs or boost revenues. Meadow and Grove had no doubt about which of the two routes to follow, b.ut their ideas for- boosting revenues carried big price tags. For example, they asked for a $405,000 "artistic safety net" to cover the losses on risky plays. To strengthen the MTC's "product," they also sought money to beefup the script deparrment and additional funds to option important new works and commission plays. To create the MTC's future audience, they proposed an education program that would bring high school students into the theater. To nurture new acting talent, they proposed setting up internships and master classes at the theater. One $600,000 item in the plan called for a fund to finance the transfer of successful MTC plays to other theaters in New York and around the country. Because of its tight production schedule, the theater cannot extend the run ofa hit play by more than a week. If a play is picked up by another producer, the MTC may receive a royalty ranging from 0.5 percent to five percent of the weekly gross. But if the MTC finances the move, the theater club winds up with the lion's share of the profitsor losses. When the board began to review the draft of the MeadowGrove long-range proposal in the spring of 1989, the leadership was enthusiastic about many of the ideas. Several board members, for example, welcomed the idea of a safety net for risky plays. "I am not a proponent of comfortable theater,"


says Roberts. The option of cutting costs to solve the theater's fiscal problems was not seriously entertained; the board members felt they had cut as much as they could after the McKinsey report.

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s the directors tested the numbers against economic projections and devised a time frame for raising funds, they looked for ways to give Meadow what she asked for. "We didn't sit around and say, 'You guys are out of your minds'-the way you would in a business budget meeting," recalls Spurdle. "Bond traders are replaceable. The Lynne Meadows are not." Herbert Weissenstein, a consultant to nonprofit groups who has helped design the MTC's fund-raising campaign, talks about the "magical balance" on arts boards between the business members' impulse to apply tough financial standards and their recognition that too much intrusiveness will backfire. "You have very little grasp over the product," he says. "The art belongs to the artist. It would be like telling an orchestra that was losing money: Cut your string section in half, get rid of three flutes and two oboes-and just play louder." Throughout April and May 1990, Kopperl, Coles, Grove, Meadow, and Weissenstein met with small groups of board members over breakfast at the Princeton Club to discuss the draft of the long-range plan, and its financial consequences. Finally, on a June morning, the full board met in a conference room at Chase Manhattan Bank's Park Avenue offices to vote on the package. What the members of the board had before them was a proposal for a four-year campaign to raise a total of $9.8 million-$3.4 million of that would represent the initiatives of the long-range plan, while the rest would fund programs already in existence. Before the vote, Coles warned his colleagues- that approval would require that each of them donate a substantial, additional sum of money. The vote in favor was unanimous. Board member Gary Knisely, 49, who is managing director of Johnson Smith & Knisely, an executive search firm, recalls: "When I came home that night and told my wife, she said: 'What did you do?!' " The members of the Manhattan Theater Club board are expected to give, or to get from other sources, a minimum donation of $15,000 a year. What Knisely and his colleagues had "done" was to commit themselves to at least another $2,500 a year over the next four years. But that extra $2,500 a year would be the bare minimum. "If everybody gave that, we'd be in trouble," says Coles. At the June meeting, he announced that the leadership of the board had pledged "northward" of $500,000 to the campaign. The five leaders were Coles, Cohen, Kopperl, Roberts, and Bonnie Sacerdote (an arts consultant and chairperson of the membership committee whose husband, Peter, is a partner at Goldman, Sachs). During the following months, those five, long the club's biggest individual donors, solicited pledges from the other

members of the board, armed with an estimate of how much money each member could afford to give. Their manner was delicate, but also direct. "I asked for a number," says Coles. "I said I may have asked for too much. But I may also have asked for too little, in which case, I hope you'll remedy that." They hope to raise $250,000 from their peers. In addition, the MTC has applied for a three-to-one. challenge grant from the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA). Under the grant, the NEA would give the theater $750,000 over the next four years on the condition that the MTC attracted new or increased contributions of $2.25 million. "Raising the rest of the money is going to be tough," says Roberts. "It's bad times." The MTC has some novel ideas, including asking individual donors to commission plays. Subscribers now donate a total of about $200,000 a year,- but the MTC wants more; Coles, for example, is hoping to organize post-performance cocktail parties to knit subscribers into fundraising teams. The capital campaign has also re-ignited an earlier debate: Does the new MTC require a more powerful and socially prominent set of directors-people such as James D. Wolfensohn and Sanford I. Weill, the two well-connected investment bankers who helped put Carnegie Hall's 1985 campaign over the top? Or would such heavyweight donors overwhelm the board and interfere in artistic decisions? "I think we'd love to be seen as a high-profile prestige board to be on," Coles says, "but it might mean a fundamental change in who we are." Coles would never think of changing the theater's artistic director, for example; the board's association with her, he says, "has the mark of a very personal relationship as opposed to an i!1stitutional one." Knisely, on the other hand, says, "At some point we will have to be able to be in a position to tell Lynne to leave. Not because she isn't doing a great job, but because that is what the board of a major institution should be able to do." The board has already asked Knisely's firm to conduct a pro bono search for new board candidates. For some board members, such developments can be disconcerting. "We've all taken a big gulp," says one of them, who suspects that some of the things she loves most about the theater and its board may soon pass. Knisely talks openly about the possibility that a prominent new board member might take over Kopperl's role as the more active of the two cochairpersons. Generally speaking, Lynne Meadow contemplates the prospect of change philosophically, recalling the ups and downs of the Manhattan Theater Club's progress from living room readings to star billing as one of the most important companies in the United States. "Every year we've lost something," she' says, and then adds, with a smile: "Take the day I stopped 0 pouring drinks at the bar to help pay the rent." About the Author: Suzanna business and culture.

Andrews is a New York-based

writer on


r

Is There an American Acting St,le! The controversy about American acting is one of style versus content, of individualism versus venerable European traditions. The author contends that actors such as Gary Cooper (above right, in the 1952 hit High Noon), by being themselves, evoked a sense of authenticity missing in European acting.

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cting is essentially communicating. An actor communicates with the other actors on stage, and, through them, to each person in the audience. He communicates the text that the playwright has constructed, and he communicates the subtext. The subtext consists of all the emotional and psychological powers of the actor's expression, which reinforce, but do not detract from, the playwright's point. Acting is a series of moments from which the character's lifetime can be inferred." Thus Robert Prosky, teacher and veteran of 20 years of stage, TV, and film acting, expresses the essence of his art in terms that most American actors can affirm. But nearly

anything else that can be said about acting in the United States is subject [0 argument. The controversy about American acting is one of style versus content, of individualism versus venerable European traditions. An American playwright recently quipped, "A good American' actor can make the phone book sound like Hamiel, and make Hamiel sound like the phone book." In fact, the American actor began as an anomaly on the world theater scene, where he became known for his drive, enthusiastic energy, and flouting of tradition. In 1836, Edwin Forrest suffered severe criticism during a guest appearance in London for his "spir-

ited but undisciplined acting." So began the argument about what the American actor should be. Should he emulate the established British model, which accen'tuates external technique of exact posture, voice control, and precise gesture, or should he concentrate on internal truth and energy in pursuit of a stronger emotional reality? Should he avoid the classics altogether and stick to naturalistic American plays? American acting was born in the reign of 19th-century melodrama, when lilythroated good guys flung themselves across the stage to match sneering villains in histrionics. This energetic, hypertheatricality had little room to grow


until it was given artistic direction by the Stanislavsky system of acting, which swept the American theater scene in the early part of this century. Declamatory portrayal and exaggerated gestures gave way to natural movement and studied demeanor, as the American actor struggled to find a uniquely American expressIon. In 1928, Lee Strasberg, Robert Lewis, Stella Adler, Sonia Moore, and others formed the Group Theatre in New York to explore a native acting style with concentrated intensity. It was there, working on new American plays, that Strasberg began to mold his acting "Method," which has become the watchword for American acting style (see SPAN, July 1981). The late Strasberg believed that his Method could be successfully applied to the changing demands being made on actors by film, television, musical theater, comedies, epic, absurd, and other avantgarde plays. Nevertheless, he felt that American acting did not gain world status until the movie era. "In the movies, the acting gives some authentic image of reality," Strasberg said. "Our movie actors are themselves, and that takes a great deal of skill. Joan Crawford, Clark Gable, Spencer Tracy, and Gary Cooper. ..were highly admired because they gave a sense of authenticity missing in European acting. They have the fundamental aspect of being human. They would not say anything they wouldn't say. They wouldn't behave in any way they wouldn't behave. "Internal truth is an [American] actor's way of working; he doesn't approach a role from the point of view of his own personal truth. He uses his personal truth to convincingly create what the character has to be going through." For an example of internal truth, consider the role of the almost pathologically shy Laura in Tennessee Williams's The Glass Menagerie. While very few actors could bring a palette of actual experience to the role that would facilitate a characterization, everyone has had a moment when he or she was afraid of being terribly embarrassed in front of another

person. That feeling is what Strasberg called internal truth. To play Laura, the actor must locate that internal truth and project the specific isolated fear onto every possible social situation. If an actor can convincingly portray a person who is always inhibited by the fear of being utterly embarrassed, that actor can play the part, according to the Method. Internal truth need not embody exactly what the character is feeling, as long as it enables the actor to express exactly what the character is feeling. The notion of internal truth is the point of American acting about which much of the controversy swirls. Robert Lewis eventually broke with Strasberg for what he saw as excesses in the use of internal truth. Lewis says, "The question that actors used to ask [according to the Method] was, 'What would r do if I were in that situation?' We have to throw that out and ask, 'What would I do if I were that character in that play in that period in that style by that author?' This is what we have to use a sense of truth for-to create a theatrical sense of truth. I don't approach a role by asking what would I do in that situation, because how am r going to identify with every character in literature? Never." Sonia Moore, former director of the American Center for Stanislavsky Theatre Art, also believes that the Method went too far and, in so doing, misinterpreted its Russian forefather. According to Moore, "Stanislavsky said you have to be natural, so actors thought mumbling and slouching was natural. In order to behave naturally in the circumstances of the character, the actor must control his instrument (his body) and be capable of stirring his own resources for the character. It took Stanislavsky 40 years to find what he was really looking for-a means that would allow actors to be spontaneous." For Moore, the distinction between form and content on stage is really a distinction between good and bad acting. "Good acting-art 011 stag('-is a combination of realism inside, with an external, physical form that projects the content of the play," Moore says. Stella Adler believes that naturalness

has led to a tired image of the American actor. "He has a tendency to imitate the street, which is completely shapeless," she says. "He has a sense that what he sees on the inside is truthful and therefore theatrically valid, and therefore he feels he can neglect his outside qualities." Adler 'believes that the Method not only "overinternalized" actors at the cost of technique, but also left them ill-equipped to experiment with the influx of European plays that required varied playing styles. "It's easier for European actors," she says, "because they have their eSU:lblished traditions; they have their Moliere or their Strindberg. They're forced into their own literature and must develop [an external] technique. Now our actors are slowly catching on that their sense of the most common life truth is not serving them any longer on stage." Adler is encouraged by what she sees as a transitional state of American acting and by the positive effect that new influences will have: "Historically. the arrival of minorities has produced a culture in ¡the American theater: they have bl'ought their culture, which has a dynamism in it. The Italian and the Yiddishspeaking minorities, for instance. had a vitality. And the background and the literature that came through [from those cultures] affccted the American scene." Because of his widely eclectic culture, the American actor, according to Adler, "has a sizable inner truth which is magnificent and important and epic. The American actor has the potential of becoming an


Left: Lee Strasberg (left), whose "Method" became the lI'atcl111'ordfor the American acting style, nurtured the talents of performers rangingfi'om Marilyn Monroe 10 AI Pacino. Above: A scenefi'om Arthur Miller's The Misfitsfeaturing (fi'om left to right) Eli Wallach. Thelma Ritter, Clark Gable, and Marilyn Monroe.

actor unparalleled." A uniquely two-sided view of the differences between American and European acting is offered by Charles Marowitz, who is artistic director of London's Open Space theater, as well as a director of plays in the United States. '"The dominant, almost unimpeachable, style of acting in America is psychological realism," says Marowitz. "It is based on an organization of convenient cliches called 'naturalistic behavior'-in short, the Method. The Method's obsession with 'private moments' and 'subjective truth' narrowed the possibilities of American acting and has been, arguably, the single most negative influence on American acting. "Good acting, when broken down, is little more than an externally fortified manner of deportment. [Good actors] hone [their talents] to a sharp cutting edge; [they] move easily from the broad expressionist gesture of Shakespeare and Schiller to the intellectually limpid essays of Brecht, to the surrealist evocations of Becket, Ionesco, and Genet; [good actors] realize that the secret of every successful performance is discovering that kernel of

style buried deep at the center of every work of art and then bringing it to fruition in a performance so clearly defined, so kinetically exact, that every inner vibration summons an appropriate external expressIon. "I n England and on the Continent, an actor starts from the premise that the 'role' is something he has to reach for, the 'character' is something to be attained. Because of Method ideology, the American actor is led to believe that the 'character' is already within and that it's simply a matter of burrowing down deep enough to discover it. As a result, he is constantly recycling limited personal resources . Marowitz continues: "At its worse, the Method persuades actor and audience that the truth of any situation is identical to the expression of its psychologically based social reality. By doing this, it ignores the whole notion of an art form attempting to deal with human experience on a metaphysical level. Shakespeare, Marlowe, the Jacobeans, and the Greek classics are all grist for the' Method's mill. There is no character so towering that a Method actor cannot drag it down to his level.... "The paradox is 'that the American actor has more passion, more expressive physicality, more subtlety than all of the English acting profession put together. But his sights are too low. There will never be an array of great American performers unless they are [trained to] express the size and subtlety of characters such as Hamlet, Lady Macbeth, Coriolanus, Antigone, Richard II, etc." John Houseman, an Academy Awardwinning actor who died in 1988, was a widely known master acting teacher. In his view, it was most fruitful to compare acting styles by what they have in common, rather than accentuating the extremes from which they were derived. "I don't really think there is a

peculiarly American acting style anymore," Houseman said a few years ago. "There's always been the very high energy in American acting, and that remains characteristic of American actors." But Houseman doubted that anyone was practicing an orthodox version of the Method anymore because of the availability of first-rate instruction for actors all over the United States. There are many fine universities and conservatories producing actors who are more competent artists than actors of the past. They force them to take acting seriously, to understand that it is an art that requires a great deal of preparation. "Our best actors," Houseman said, "are capable of playing almost anything. And we're all the better for it." Hume Cronyn, who with his wife, Jessica Tandy, has acted on both sides of the Atlantic for more than 50 years, believes that the differences in acting styles should never be visible on stage. "I can remember being very young and caught up with the thrill of acting:' says Cronyn, "when a famous actor told me, 'This business') Making faces!' Well. the faces (the finished product) are what the audience cares about-the rest is process. My wife and I are prime examples. She starts on the inside and works out, while I start on the outside and work in. For the first couple of weeks of rehearsal we don't connect a lot. Yet by the time the show opens, you can't tell that wereceived our training in different places. But [no matter what the process is], it takes a lot of hard work-researching, understanding, probing parts. Once I get into a part, I find myself thinking about it all the time. It can become a kind of nightmare. Actors have no social life. To go on being an actor, you need sheer animal energy. If you can't restock your energy, you have to hide your lack of it." Tandy sums up ju'st why so many actors make so considerable a sacrifice: "I can't conceive of doing anything else. It's still, after all these years, terribly exci ti ng." 0 About the Author: Steven Stosny is a playwright andfi'ee-Iance writer living in Arlington, Virginia.


Rebecca, New Mexico, platinum print, 9.4 x 12 em.

1931,

~RealerThan Real' For more than a year selected American galleries and museums have been celebrating the 100th birth anniversary of Paul Strand (1890-1976), who played a crucial role in the development of photography as art. The National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C., organized a Strand retrospective in connection with its own 50th anniversary and displayed it from December 1990 through February 1991. It has since visited several other American cities. In August the Strand retrospective will move on to the Victoria and Albert Museum in London for a two-month showing. The 150 photographs in the exhibition include 61 important works

that form the core of the National Galler.y's Paul Strand Collection. Many of them are being shown in public for the first time; some were discovered under the beds of Strand and his wife, Rebecca, after their deaths. The National Gallery's focus on-Strand is an indicator of his standing in the pantheon of photographers. So far only five photographers have been "allowed," as The Washington Post put it, to enter the gallery's permanent collection: Alfred Stieglitz (one of Strand's mentors), Ansel Adams, Walker Evans, Robert Frank, and now Paul Strand. Born in New York City, Strand had a privileged childhood.


1. The White Fence, 1916,

2. Wild Iris, Maine, 1927,

gelatin silver print, 1920s,

gelatin silver print,

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24.6 x 32.5 em.

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At 14, he was sent to the city's expensive Ethical Culture School, where he first studied photography. His teacher was noted documentary photographer Lewis Hine, who introduced Strand to Stieglitz. As a gallery director and a champion of photography and progressive modern art, Stieglitz influenced Strand by molding his talent and giving it public exposure. He made Strand forsake the mushiness that was then the hallmark of photography: Out-of-focus shots that "pretended to be paintings," to quote art critic Paul Richard. Stieglitz's Gallery 291 held Strand's first one-man exhibition in 1916. Strand's new style, more crisp and straight, resulted in some of "the most innovative work made in any medium in America at that time." The devastation caused by World War I influenced Strand, as it did America in general. There was a turning away from European culture and a determination to explore the American experience with work that would, writes Richard, "sing the American worker, the American land, and language." Strand wanted to portray what he called "the new beauty" of the American scene.

Strand's next influence came from his involvement in the political and social issues of the 1930s. The National Gallery folder on Strand notes: " ... the tone, intent, and meaning of his art changed. Adopting the approach of a sociologist, he sought revelations not so much in significant forms as in the relationships of objects, people, and the larger whole of society." In 1950 Strand moved to Europe, where he lived until his death in 1976. His last series of photographs were made in the garden of his home in Orgeval, France. The photographs in the retrospective cover all stages of his life. Writes Hank Burchard in The Washington Post, luminous and almost unrejJroducible photo"Strand's graphs ... have had a commanding influence on virtually every photographer. ... After a lifetime of looking at photographs it takes a little time to learn how to see a Paul Strand photograph. [It] is realer than real; you feel as though you could reach through the frame and touch, not just the object itself, but the idea of it. Strand called this 'respect for the object'; we can only call it greatness." 0


4. Midi-Libre, France, gelatin silver pril1/, II.7x

1951.

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Italy.

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6. Toward the Sugar House. Vermont, 1944. gelatin sil\'er print, 24.1 x 19.3 em. 7. Bell Rope, 1945, gelatin silt'eJ' print, 24.4 x 19.2 em.


FOCUS India witnessed two major book fairs last month-the biennial World Book Fair in New Delhi, which was held from February 1 through February 9, and the annual Book Fair in Calcutta, January 29 through February 9. The World Book Fair in Delhi, which has become a prestigious international event, attracted more than 700 Indian and 62 foreign publishing houses and book distributors. Among the American exhibitors were Tata McGraw-Hili, Simon & Schuster, John Wiley, Penguin, Macmillan, and the U.S. Information Service (USIS). The USIS pavilion featured book exhibits on "Business Management, USA" and "Environmentallssues: Global Challenges," which were especially imported from the United States; American books on a variety of subjects reprinted in India under the Indo-American Cooperative Publishing Program; video programs; and a SPAN sales booth.

USIA DIRECTOR IN INDIA Ambassador Henry E. Catto, director of the United States Information Agency (USIA), which administers information, cultural, and educational programs overseas, paid a sixRK SHARMA day official visit to India last month. Ambassador Catto (seen here with SPAN Photo Editor Avinash Pasricha, center, and Managing Editor Krishan Gabrani) held discussions on matters of mutual interest with External Affairs Minister Madhavsinh Solanki and other officials. He also visited Bombay and Agra. A native of Texas, Ambassador Catto, 61, has held high offices in the administrations of four U.S. Presidents. In 1969, President Richard Nixon appointed him the U.S. deputy representative to the Organization of American States. Two years later, the President made him America's ambassador to EI Salvador. During the presidency of Gerald Ford, Catto first served as chief of protocol for the White House and the Department of State and later as the U.S. representative to the European Office of the United Nations. Catto returned to private life in 1977, and became chairman of the IBIS Corporation, a Washington, D.C., consulting firm. He also published the Washington Journalism Review from 1979 to 1987, and served as director of the Houston Post and the Galveston News, two Texas newspapers. In 1981 President Ronald Reagan appointed Catto assistant secretary for public affairs at the Department of Defense. In 1989 President George Bush appointed him U.S.ambassador to Great Britain and Northern Ireland, a post he held until he became director of USIA in May 1991. At a meeting of U.S. Information Service employees in New Delhi, Catto said, "1, am happy to be in India at a time when relations between our two countries are very good and there is a convergence of perceptions on various in.ternational issues."

The pavilion attracted some 83,000 visitors. Minister for Human Resource Development Arjun Singh (center), who inaugurated the book fair, also visited the pavilion where he was welcomed by U.S. Ambassador William Clark, Jr. (left). The USIS exhibit at the Calcutta Book Fair, which has come to symbolize the Bengalis' passion for books, drew still bigger attendance-188,000-including Chief Minister Joyti Basu. The pavilion also won a special prize for excellence in design, decoration, and display of books.

One shining example of the people-to-people bonds that exist between the United States and India is the sister-city relationship, under the aegis of Sister Cities International (SCI), between Loma Linda in California and Manipal in Karnataka. Each c'ity dedicates a day of celebration in honor of its "sister," with festivities that include exchange of visits between their citizens. At Loma Linda's Manipal Day celebrations last year, the guest of honor was Dr. Ramdas Pai, medical director of Kasturba Medical College (KMC) in Manipal. He was presented with a key to the city and a plaque by Mayor Milford Harrison (below). As part of the sister-city relationship, Loma Linda University and KMC share close bonds. Since 1984, when the two institutions agreed to work together for academic advancement, about 30 faculty members from KMC and some 20 from Loma Linda University have exchanged visits. At the 1991 Manipal.Day celebrations, Dr. B. Lyn Behrens, president of Loma Linda University said, "The common bond between our two institutions is the commitment of service to others. We look forward to the future--a future of collaboration, a future of learning and sharing, of enriching the educational programs on two continents." Pai, on whose initiative the sister-city relationship was established in the 1980s, said, "We celebrate today the tradition of academic cordiality and personal friendship that has developed between us over the past few years." SCI, a voluntary, nonprofit organization Based in Washington, D.C., promotes international understanding and friendship through personal contacts. About 800 American cities are linked with an equal number of cities in other countries, including India.


Battery Dance Company, an innovative and enduring force in the cultural life of New York and the United States since 1976, began its maiden dance tour of India last month with performances in Baroda, Ahmedabad, Tirupati, Vijayawada, and Hyderabad. Beginning March 5, the six-mem~er troupe will give several performances in Bombay, including one at the National Centre for the Performing Arts on March 10. Battery was founded in 1976 by Jonathan Hollander, a master choreographer who did his apprenticeship with some of America's top modern dancers and choreographers-Eugene Loring, Merce Cunningham, and Twyla Tharp. Hollander has choreographed more than 40 works for his company, which includes some of

America's exceptionally gifted and famous dancers. In 1982, Hollander launched the annual Downtown Dance Festival, which has since presented dance of almost every style and description to the downtown public of New York in 90 free noontime concerts. More than 50 dance companies from around the United States and England have performed at the festival. In 1985, Battery began yet another program in which its dancers give indepth instruction, lecture-demonstrations, and performances at New York City's public schools. The aim of these two programs, says Hollander, is to qring dance to those who cannot afford to pay for it. Other members of the company are Noelle Braynard, Olivier Heuts, Susan Christensen, Paul Santy, and Robin Hastings.

On February 21, Ambassador William Clark, Jr., and Kulwant Rai, chairman of Usha Rectifier Corporation, signed an agreement under which the Indian company will receive a grant of $250,000 from the U.S.Trade and Development Program (TOP) to conduct a feasibility study for the establishment of a steel plant utilizing sponge iron-a porous form of crude iron-as feedstock. The study will initially assess the various techno-economic alternatives for steel making (including conventional AC electric furnaces, DC electric furnaces, the induction melting of sponge iron, and other processes), as well as alternative methods for feeding sponge iron. The second stage will involve the preparation of conceptual designs, estimates, and operating costs, along with a proposed project financing plan. Usha Rectifier is currently setting up a gas-based sponge iron project near Jagdishpur, Uttar Pradesh, with a capacity of 880,000 tons per year, The technology and detailed engineering for this plant are being provided by Midrex Corporation of the United States. The TOP-aided feasibility study will help to determine how the hot sponge iron from Usha Rectifier's Jagdishpur plant might be used

in a new steel-making venture. This could, it is hoped, result in an estimated saving in energy and production costs of about Rs. 350 per ton of finished steel. The US. Trade and Development Program provides funding for feasibility studies for major projects with American consultants. To date, the TOP has made grants aggregating more than $7 million to a broad cross section of Indian public and private sector companies, giving them easier access to state-of-the-art U.S. technologies.


SPEEDING AHEAD The gospel of speed is spreading fast in corporate America. To stay ahead of the competition, companies are accelerating their operations and improving the quality of what they make and do. "If you knew Time as well as I do," said the Mad Hatter, "you wouldn't talk about wasting it." -Alice in Wonderland The numbers are nearly incredible. General Electric (GE) used to take three weeks after an order to deliver a custommade industrial circuit-breaker box. Now it takes three days. AT&T used to need two years to design a new phone. Now it can do the job in one. Motorola used to turn out electronic pagers three weeks after the factory got the order. Now it takes two hours. Speed is catching on fast. A recent survey of 50 major U.S. companies by Kaiser Associates, a Vienna, Virginia, consulting firm, found that practically all put timebased strategy, as the new approach is called, at the top of their priority lists. Why? Because speed kills the competition. Quickly developing, making, and distributing products or services brings important, sometimes surprising competitive benefits. Market share grows because customers love getting their orders now. Inventories of finished goods shrink because they are not necessary to ensure quick delivery; the fastest manufacturers can make and ship an order the day it is received. For this and other reasons, costs fall. Many employees become more satisfied because they are working for a more

responsive, more successful company and because speeding operations requires giving them more flexibility and responsibility .... Even quality improves. Explains Hewlett-Packard Chief Executive John Young, a leading apostle of speed: "Doing it fast forces you to do it right the first time." By placing speed at the heart of his strategy, Young has enabled his company to turn out computer terminals at lower cost than [makers of clone terminals can]. In Fortune's seventh annual survey of corporate reputations ...computer executives and security analysts ranked Hewlett-Packard the most admired company in its industry-displacing perennial champ IBM. Speed often pays off in product development even if it means going over budget. An economic model developed by the McKinsey & Co. management-consulting tirm shows that high-tech products that come to market six months late but on budget will earn 33 percent less profit over five years. In contrast, coming out on time and 50 percent over budget cuts profits only four percent. Little wonder that corporate speed is becoming a principal topic of study among management consultants and businessschool professors. It has the conceptual heft to influence virtually every operation in every company ...."Thinkingin terms of

time," says Rudyard Istvan, a senior .vice president at Boston Consulting Group, "gets all...activities working together for'a common purpose." For example, Young declared recently that Hewlett-Packard's break-even time, or the interval between a new product's conception and profitability, including ...all development costs, must be cut in half across the entire corporation. That can be done in many ways, but faster product development is one of the best. Faced with such a simple yet staggering goal, employees are forced to begin pulling in the same direction and deciding which management tools-just-in-time inventory, quality circles, new worker incentives-would best help meet it. A company can generally find thousands of ways to speed operations, but masters of the game emphasize a few major tactics. Among them: Start From Scratch. Practically everyone agrees that the worst way to speed up a company is by trying to make it do things just as it does, only faster. The machinery-and certainly the workers-will simply burn out. Instead, smart executives announce a breathtakingly ambitious goal, like¡ Young's target of halving break-even time. No one can get there just by stepping on the gas, although some try. "The gut reaction," says Steven Wheelwright, a professor at the


General Electric reduced delivery time for circuit-breaker boxes from three weeks to three days by automating its factory in Salisbury, North Carolina, and giving workers greater responsibility.

Harvard Business School in Cambridge, Massachusetts, "is, let's cut six months out. It's not, let's do the analysis and rethinking that will allow us to cut six months out." But that's what it takes. Example: General Electric's rescue of its old and stagnant circuit-breaker business. Says William Sheeran, a GE general manager, "We had to speed up or die." GE's $I,OOO-million-a-year electrical distribution and control division in Plainville, Connecticut, makes, among other things, circuit-breaker boxes for commercial buildings. When threatened in the early 1980s by the market's slow growth and tough competitors like Siemens and Westinghouse, GE assembled a team of manufacturing, design, and marketing experts that focused on overhauling its

manufacturing process. The goal, suitably daunting, was to cut the time between a customer's order and delivery from three weeks to three days. Time for radical thinking. GE was producing circuit-breaker boxes in six plants around the United States. Who needs six? The team decided that one plant would be more efficient, so in 1985 it consolidated its operations and focused on automating its factory in Salisbury, North Carolina. But the team didn't want to automate operations as they were. In the old system, engineers custom-designed each box, a job that took a week. They chose from 28,000 unique parts to create the boxes .... Setting up an automated system to handle that many parts would have been a nightmare. So the design team made most parts interchangeable, reducing their number to 1,275 while still leaving customers a choice of 40,000 different sizes, shapes, and configurations of boxes. The team also devised a way to cut out

the engineers, replacing them with a computer. Now when a salesman enters specifications for a circuit breaker into a computer at GE's main office in Connecticut, the order flows to a computer at Salisbury, which automatically programs the factory machines to make circuitbreaker boxes with minimum waste of material. Impressive advances, but the team still had to conquer another source of delaysolving problems and making decisions on the factory floor. The solution was to get rid of all line supervisors and quality inspectors, reducing the organizational layers between worker and plant manager from three to one. Everything those middle managers used to handle-vacation scheduling, quality, work rules-became the responsibility of the 129 workers on the floor, who are divided into teams of 15 to 20 .... The more responsibility GE gave the workers, the faster problems got solved and decisions made. Today the Salisbury plant basically runs itself at a rapid clip. On the factory


Above: An employee of Brunswick, a sporting-goods company, tests a new outboard motor at its plant in Stillwater, Oklahoma. Brunswick cut its product development time by 25 to 30 percent by reducing the number of managers, increasing spending authority for divisional heads, and giving more responsibility to plant workers. Below: AT&T brought this telephone answering machine to market in just nine months by setting tough deadlines and delegating authority.

wall a giant electron'c sign hung eight meters off the ground ashes in red letters, letting workers kn<Dwhow long it is taking them to make eac circuit-breaker box, how many boxes they have to make that day, and how many t ey have made so far. The sign lets employees pace themselves and make their ow scheduling decisions. Says Dottie Barringer, an ebullient woman who has worked at the plant for 12 years, "I like to be my own boss. I don't like to be told what to do. 1know if I can't get it done in eight hours, 1can do it in ten without getting permission for overtime. We're behind right now. No one has to tell us we have to work Saturday." Results: The plant, which used to have a two-month backlog of orders, now works with a two-day backlog. Productivity has increased 20 percent over the past year. Manufacturing costs have dropped 30 percent, or $5.5 million a year, and return on investment is running at over 20 percent. The speed of delivery has shrunk from three weeks to three days for a higher-quality product with more features. GE is gaining share in a flat market. Sheeran sa):'s, "We'd be out of business if we hadn't done it." Wipe Out Approvals. Consultants recommend that managers take a hard look at the number of times a product or service requires some sort of internal approval before reaching the customer. Philip Thomas, president of Thomas Group, a Dallas, Texas, consulting firm specializing in speed, says that manufacturing typically takes only five to ten percent of the total time between an order and getting a product to market; the rest is administrative. He says, "Most people don't know how their own company works. Make a flow chart of your administrative process to show what's really happening out there. It usually shows that getting a product to market takes longer than people think." Jack Reichert, chief executive officer of Brunswick, the $3,000-million-a-year sporting-goods company, decided in the mid-1980s that developing new products-outboard motors, automatic bowling scorecards, fishing reels-took too


long .... Reichert cut the layers of management between him and the shop worker from ten to five. He says, "If you want to know how to do a job right, ask the people who are doing it; don't have some corporate bureaucracy tell them how to do it." Reichert also bumped up spending authority for division heads from $25,000 to $250,000. At headquarters in Skokie, Tllinois, he gets only a weekly one-page report from each division chief. "Those reports," says Reichert, "tell me what they need." Reichert estimates that Brunswick can now develop new outboard motors, for example, 25 to 30 percent faster. ... Try Teams. Like GE in its circuitbreaker business, nearly all the fastest companies form multidepartment teams. AT&T is applying that approach to product development with resounding success, giving its teams tough deadlines and lots of authority to make the decisions required to meet them. AT&T used to take two years designing a new telephone. But, says John Hanley, an AT&T vice president of product development, "We came to the realization that if you get to market sooner with new technology, you can charge a premium until the others follow." AT&T began developing a new cordless phone for the home called the 4200 in early 1988. Hanley faced a rigid AT&T bureaucracy and was skeptical about his chances of cutting time out of the development process. Rather than trying to save ten percent in time here and five percent there, Hanley aimed to reduce e development cycle by 50 percent. He says, "It made us change the way we id everything." In the past, AT &T product development worked like a relay race, with the engineering department handin a design over to ma ufacturing, whi handed the finished product over 0 marketing to sell. For the 4200, Hanl y considered setting up a ... product-deve opment lab offpremises where engineers could work relatively free of bureaucra y. He soon rejected that idea, figurin that if his J>e9ple couldn't develop a AT&T they wouldn't

and permanent change. Instead, Hanley formed teams of six to 12, including engineers, manufacturers, and marketers, with authority to make every decision on how the product would work, look, be made, and cost. The key was to set rigid speed requirementssix weeks, say, for freezing all design specifications. Because the team didn't need to send each decision up the line for approval, it could meet these strict deadlines. With this new approach AT&T cut development time for the 4200 phone from two years to just a year while lowering costs and increasing quality. Some companies make suppliers part of the team. Navistar, the Chicago, Tllinois, truckmaker, landed a major contract in 1987 with V-Haul, [a company that rents trucks and trailers to the public for moving household goods], by promising to deliver a new van fast. It was a stiff challenge. To make loading easier, the truck bed had to be only 61 centimeters off the ground, compared with the standard 122 centimeters. That required an entirely new chassis design and a novel type of pneumatic suspension that lowered the truck bed ten centimeters at the flick of a switch. Says Neil Springer, chief of Navistar's truck-building subsidiary, "We realized we couldn't deliver the truck fast enough in the traditional way. It had to be done in teams, with everybody,

suppliers includ~d, working simultaneously." The approach succeeded and produced a bonus. The Dana Corporation, a supplier that makes frames and axles, suggested a way to help lower the bed by redesigning the axle, a suggestion that would not have been heard until perhaps a year later under normal procedures. Taking advantage of it would have caused considerable delay while manufacturing retooled. Instead engineering got Dana's -suggestion into the original specifications. Worship the Schedule. Managers must make clear that nothing short of disaster is a valid excuse for delay. In 1988, Motorola designed a new electronic pager and an automated factory to build it in an unheard-of 18 months rather than the standard three years. The first step to achieving that goal was setting clear deadlines. After that came discipline. "When you're dealing on the edge of the envelope, when you're flying blind, there's always the temptation to take a little more time," says Scott Shamlin, a director of manufacturing at Motorola. "But we hold to schedule as a religion." Faced with competition, Navistar, a Chicago truckmaker, designed and built an improved truck for U-Haul in record time. The new ground-hugging truck (right) is easier to load than a standard truck (left).


ous

Motorola designed this new electronic pager-and an automated factory to build it-in 18 months instead of the usual three years. A pager beeps when its assigned telephone number is dialed; the wearer responds by calling the number displayed on the watch face when the button is pressed.

Motorola's automated factory in Florida can build and ship an electronic pager some two hours after it receives an order. The job used to take three weeks. Motorola leads the U.S. pager market over Asian rivals. Remember Distribution. Even the world's fastest factory won't offer much competitive advantage if everything it produces gets snagged in the distribution chain, a lesson Benetton, the Italian sportswear company, has knit in its heart. Located in Ponzano, Italy, Benetton makes and distributes 50 million pieces of clothing worldwide each year, mostly sweaters, slacks, and dresses. Benetton found that the fastest way to run a distribution system is to create an electronic loop linking sales agent, factory, and warehouse. If, say, a saleswoman in oneof Benetton's Los Angeles, California, shops finds that she is starting to run out of a best-selling red sweater

in early October, she calls one of Benetton's 80 sales agents, who enters the order in his personal computer, which sends it to a mainframe in Italy. Because the red sweater was originally created on a computer-aided design system, the mainframe has all its measurements on hand in digital code, which can be transmitted to a knitting machine. The machine makes the sweaters, which factory workers put in a box with a bar code label containing the address of the Los Angeles store, and the box goes into the warehouse. That's right-one warehouse serves Benetton's 5,000 stores in 60 countries around the world. It cost $30 million, but this distribution center, run by only eight persons, moves 230,000 pieces of clothing a day. Once the red sweaters are sitting snugly in one of 300,000 slots in the warehouse, a computer sends a robot flying. By reading the bar codes, the robot finds the right box and any other boxes being shipped to the Los Angeles store, picks them up, and loads them into a truck. Including manufacturing time, Benetton can get the order to Los Angeles in four weeks. If the company already has red sweaters in stock, it takes one week. That's quite a performance in the notori-

hardly anyone else wi !her with reorders. And if 1Jenetton suddenly realizes that it did not make any. say. black cardigans and purple blouses this year and they are hot. it can manufacture and ship a "flash collection" of black cardigans and purple blouses in huge quantities in a few weeks. Put Speed in the Culture •... Domino's Pizza ...has become America's second-largest pizza chain ...by promising customers a $3 discount on any pie that takes longer than 30 minutes to arrive at their home. Chief Executive Officer Tom Monaghan ... has modeled Domino's on a professional sports league, with regional divisions competing to make the best pizza, deliver it faster, and sell more than the next region. Like [football coaches], Domino's pizza makers watch films of the fastest pizza makers in the country [to learn winning techniques. For example, a delivery person, whose uniform includes track shoes, runs from delivery truck to a customer's house or apartment], taking stairs two at a time--elevators are forbidden because they take longer-carrying a pizza in his arms .... Domino's franchisee in Washington, D.C., takes managers out every Monday for a ten-kilometer jog. Says Monaghan: "Our whole business is built on speed." The advantages of speed are undeniably impressive. But why should that be surprising? Why all the hoopla among management theorists? After all, it's not exactly a new precept that time is money. True enough. What is new is a realization that time is an awful lot of mone/far more than most executives understood. Warns Istvan of Boston Consulting Group: "If you come up against one of these fast corporations and you're not prepared, you're history." Those who grasp the new calculus, who appreciate the unprecedented advantages of getting new products to market sooner and orders to customers faster, may well hold the principal tool for achieving competitive preeminence in coming years. 0 About the Author: Brian Dumaine is an associate' editor of Fortune.


CloserTogether in a Shrinking World Advances in information technology, democracy, and market economies are bringing the global community closer together, but nuclear proliferation could wipe out all gains. The flow orIndo-U.S. intellectual, commercial, and personal interchange-ties that span more than two centuries-has gathered enormous momentum in the past decade. As students and teachers, colleagues and business partners, and friends and relatives, our peoples have always talked openly and warmly to each other. Now-perhaps to the astonishment of some-our governments are doing the same. It's a new world out there, one that is shrinking in many ways. And as this globe gets smaller, India and the United States are happily moving closer together. Much of this can be ascribed to the casting offby so many nations oftheir Cold War moorings, finding a common interest in pursuing security through collective action. Without question, Indo-American political, economic, commercial, and military relations have seen more warmth and unity of purpose in the past year than anyone can remember. My government has been particularly struck by India's moral leadership role and clear-eyed actions as a member of the U.N. Security Council. A good part of this "shrinking globe" phenomenon is a consequence of spectacular advances in information technology. The telecommunications revolution has made it easier for all of us on the planet to talk with one another. On the other side of that coin, satellite broadcasting has made it harder for us to ignore what others are saying to us-and about us. And the computer revolution, spawning new generations with dizzying rapidity, makes available to us endless reams of data about each other at faster and faster speeds. Is this healthy? Is this good for India and America, and good for the human race? I think the answer is a resounding yes. At our most basic level, we are social, communicating animals. We have a hard-wired compulsion to share information-news, ideas, and emotions-with our families and communities. One idea that has prospered particularly well oflate, in great part thanks to the information revolution, is that of democracy. Governments can no longer tell their citizens that tyranny is good for them and expect them to believe it-because people Editor's Note: This article is adaptedfrom Ambassador Clark's inaugural address at the 26th Annual Conference of the Indian Association of American SlUdies at the M.S. University of Baroda, Gujarat, on February 22, 1992.

now know better, or can readily find out what is better, despite the best efforts of some governments to keep them deaf, dumb, and blind. Within functioning democracies such as ours, information is the most potent weapon we possess to safeguard our rights and to help our families and communities thrive. Another clear result of this improved ability to communicate with each other is the increasingly widespread appeal of the market economy. Money has long been the most flexible medium of commercial exchange. Willie Sutton, a legendary thief, was once asked why he robbed banks; he answered, simply, "Because that's where the money is." Well, people and nations are drawn to market economies for the same reason. Citizens in a democracy may surrender to government part of their freedom to earn and spend money in order to prevent abuses by the few, and provide for the less fortunate; but that is a license granted to the government, not by the government. Like the idea of democracy, the idea of the market economy has been racing around the globe as fast as electronic circuits can carry it. The shrinking of our global community, despite the mental jostling and pressures on privacy it implies, has improved our chances for survival as individuals and nations by giving us the information we need to live-and compete-as equals. However, there is one facet of a smaller globe that can literally wipe out all of the other positive features I've mentioned: Nuclear proliferation. The same expansions in the availability and flow of information that have improved our security have also made it much more difficult to keep the nuclear genie under control in as few bottles as possible. The winds of openness and change that transformed what was once the Soviet Union have had disquieting consequences. The birth of democracy there also saw a rebirth of national spirit and identity, raising fears there would be four new nuclear states-Russia, Ukraine, Belarus, and Kazakhstan-where there once had been only one. The introduction of a market economy to replace the failed Soviet command economy has


brought with it economic uncertainty and disruption-leading to worries that unemployed nuclear scientists may sell their services to the highest bidder. Many of these fears are unfounded. The former Soviet republics that now make up the Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS) have agreed to maintain all their strategic nuclear weapons under unified Russian command and control. Regarding tactical weapons, which are more difficult to iocate and inventory, President Yeltsin expects to have the last of them moved out of the other republics and into Russian depots by July 1. The painful transition to a market economy in the former Soviet Union continues to be the subject of daily headlines. The United States, Germany, and other concerned nations have moved to provide short-term emergency aid, as well as longterm assistance to structural reform planners in the CIS. We have also been working hard with Russia and other states to ensure that their nuclear scientists can be employed in ways that will make us all feel more (rather than less) secure. One of the brightest notes of hope the world has heard in 45 years was sounded by Presidents Bush and Yeltsin in quick succession in late January. After decades of competing to build more nuclear weapons-successively more powerful and accurate-the United States and Russia are now engaged in earnest in a disarmament race. As President Bush observed in his State of the Union address on January 29, the Cold War didn't just "end"-it took hard work. The slow, incremental pace of nuclear arms control agreements tha t began in the early 1960s picked up speed in the ensuing decades. Some of the treaty acronyms-LTBT, NPT, SALT, and INF-have entered our language. However, the truly startling breakthroughs-those that seem to have once and for all broken the back of the nuclear spiral-have taken place only in the last year. The Strategic Arms Reduction Talks (START) agreement signed by George Bush and Mikhail Gorbachev last July lays down the basic verification provisions and system-elimination rules under which both sides can reduce their strategic offensive forces. START, for the first time in the history of arms control, will achieve substantial legally binding reductions in strategic nuclear forces. The treaty emphasizes reductions in the most destabilizing and threatening systems, and encourages each side to restructure its strategic forces to make them less threatening. Most critically, it includes a wide variety of unprecedented and demanding verification measures. Then, on September 27,1991, President Bush announced an initiative intended to fundamentally change the nuclear postures of the United States and the former Soviet Union by dramatically reducing the size and nature of U.S. nuclear deployments worldwide. And the CIS has been matching us cut for cut: • The United States is withdrawing from abroad and destroying all ground-launched theater nuclear weapons. In response, the CIS is withdrawing and eliminating all nuclear mines, as well as nuclear warheads on tactical artillery and air defense missiles.

• All American tactical nuclear weapons are being removed from American surface ships, submarines, and land-based naval aircraft. So are those of the former Soviet Union. • President Bush took all U.S. strategic bombers off their day-to-day alert status; stood down from alert all ICBMs scheduled for deactivation under START; and terminated several missile development and modernization programs. Former President Gorbachev and President Yeltsin have taken similar measures. The world breathed a sigh of relief. The disarmament race was well and truly launched. And on January 29, in his State of the Union address, President Bush upped the ante by focusing on increasing the stability of offensive strategic forces. In rapid succession, he announced the shutdown in production of B-2 bombers, of new warheads for sea-based ballistic missiles, and of Peacekeeper missiles; the cancellation of the small ICBM program; and the end of purchases of advanced cruise missiles. It would be hard to overestimate the importance of these steps-taken, as President Bush said, "on our own-because they are the right thing to do." Their effect will be to halt U.S. production of nuclear warheads for the firsttime since it began. The President didn't stop there. He challenged the Commonwealth of Independent States to eliminate all land-based multiple warhead ballistic missiles. In return, he promised 'to eliminate all Peacekeeper missiles; reduce Minuteman missiles to single-warhead status; reduce the number of sea-based missile warheads by about one-third; and convert a substantial portion of American strategic bombers to primarily conventional use. Just hours after President Bush made his announcement, President Yeltsin responded by taking some 600 strategic nuclear missiles off alert status and sharply curbing the production of long-range nuclear bombers. He also proposed that Russia and the United States reduce their strategic arsenals by 80 percent. Both presidents' ideas-which go significantly beyond the numbers in the START agreement-were seriously discussed by them at Camp David at the beginning of February, and were then more deeply explored by Secretary of State James Baker in his subsequent vislts to Russia and the other CIS republics. With President Yeltsin's planned visit to the United States in July, further progress can be expected. You don't have to be a gambler to recognize a bidding war in progress. Fortunately for all of us, it is a war no one can lose. President Bush has called this "a dramatic and deeply promising time in our history, and in the history of man on Earth." We must not lose sight of the second part of that statement; the disarmament race currently underway affects not only the peoples of the United States and the former Soviet Union, but the whole of the human race. Its effects are both real and symbolic-not just an enormous easing of security and economic burdens, but also a real lightening of the psychic pressures generated by four-and-a-half decades of pondering "mutual assured destruction." I referred earlier to the "hard work" over the course of decades that has led to this race to disarm. But we and others the world over have always recognized that this hard work had


President George Bush and Prime Minister Narasimha Rao discussed bilateral relations and nuclear non-proliferation issues Il'hen both lI'ere in Nell' York City at the end of January for a summit meeting of the United Nations Security Council.

to proceed down two tracks-one dealing with nuclear weapons states already in existence, and a second trying to prevent the further spread of nuclear weapons. It was to address the latter threat to global security that the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT) was fashioned in 1968. Originally signed by 62 nations-including three nuclear weapons states-the NPT has now come to be accepted as a fundamental document by 145 countries. It is the most widely accepted arms control treaty in the history of mankind. Much has been written in India questioning the morality and effectiveness of the NPT, and I don't intend to burden you with refutations of all of the objections to it that have been raised. But I would like to stress two things the NPT is not: It is not an attempt by the signatories to maintain indefinitely an exclusive "nuclear club." As we have all seen, the United States, the CIS, and other nations are in fact actively working to reduce dramatically the nuclear arsenals of those who signed the NPT as nuclear powers. Secondly, it is not a blueprint for eliminating nuclear weapons from the face of the Earth-nor was it ever meant to be. Although Article Six of the NPT states that the signatories pledge to work toward universal nuclear disarmament, it is widely recognized that trying to keep the nuclear genie from multiplying further requires a very different set of measures-

and, realistically, a very different time frame-than trying to obliterate it completely. There is one more thing the NPT is not-it is not, alas, universal. Although 145 countries have either signed it or signaled their intention to do so, there are a few significant states with nuclear or near-nuclear capability that remain reluctant to adhere to it. And two of these-India and Pakistan-are neighbors with a history of tension between them. Notwithstanding its objections to the NPT, I believe India in fact stands precisely for what the treaty intends to achieve-preventing the further spread of nuclear weapons, fostering peaceful nuclear cooperation, and encouraging negotiations to end the nuclear arms race with a view to general and complete disarmament. Rajiv Gandhi's disarmament proposals at the United Nations a few years ago declared the same end goals. Ifwe disagree, it is over means; we agree on ends. I believe the nations of the world are moving inexorably toward nuclear disarmament-and preventing the further spread of nuclear weapons is an integral part of that movement. The United States still supports universal adherence to the NPT as the best means o.f reaching that goal. Some nations that are not prepared to sign the NPT -such as Brazil and Argentinahave nevertheless agreed to bilateral or regional agreements that will have the same effect as the treaty in promoting transparency, safeguards, and confidence among the signatories. It is critical for us to remember to focus on our wider goals; and any non-proliferation agreement that increases stability and confidence among its adherents is a welcome advance toward those goals. India has always prided itself on a moral and principled approach to international relations. As other nations progress toward a saner and more secure non-proliferation environment, India can continue to stand in the wings. Or, India can lead, as it has in the past, by bringing forward proposals to help make a workable non-proliferation regime-whether on a regional basis, or on a wider scale-a reality. With India's shoulder to the non-proliferation wheel, the pace will quicken; the spirit will grow. It bears repeating: The world is shrinking. India and the United States are steadily moving closer together, and I fully expect this process will continue to astonish us all. But we must remember that-more than ever before-this makes us not only our brothers' keepers, but our brothers' children's keepers. Let us work together to move their world further away from the nuclear nightmare, and closer to sanity. 0


America in a ChangingWorld T by INAM

RAHMAN

he great achievement of American history has been to bring peoples together-people from all social classes, continents, nations. Yet, time and again, America's international outlook has been interrupted by periods in which a mood of relative isolationism has prevailed. The international outlook itself has reflected two distinct points of view, one advocating greater international cooperation, the other urging that the United States assert its supremacy in the community of nations. These sentiments have produced a lively debate on the prospects ofa new world order and America's role in bringing it about. Making the world safe for democracy was the stated American objective during and since World War I. Now that this objective has been largely achieved, it is indeed timely to consider just what roles America should now play. Western civilization and the Founding Fathers supplied the original vision for American society. This vision-a "new order of the ages," as interpreted anew for each succeeding generation by America's leaders-has been a strong factor in defining the role of the United States in worW affairs. When the Puritans landed on the New England coast in 1620, they were already imbued with a sense of destiny. John Winthrop reminded them before landing: "Wee shall be as a citty upon a Hill, the eies of all people are uppon us .... " This sense of destiny combined with a sense of obligation toward the oppressed of mankind. At no time were these feelings shared by all citizens, but there have always been Americans who have demanded that the United States pursue no less than the cause of humanity. Essentially two elements in the early American experience gave rise to this sense of mission, namely, the providential advantage offered by the New World and the political ideology of the American Revolution. The United States was the first nation in the modern world to make intellectual principles the foundation of its existence. The American Revolution expressed the longing for a total reform of political culture; and the noblest ideas of Americansfreedom, equality, constitutionalism, and the well-being of ordinary people-all came out of the Revolutionary Era. For 30 years the Founding Fathers had been engaged in what Bernard Bailyn has called "this spirit of pragmatic idealism"-the creative adjustment of ideas to reality. The Revolution was thus an integral part of the great transforming process that carried America into modernity. "The line from the social revolution of the I770s," writes Robert Nisbet, "to the civil rights revolution of the 1960s is a direct one. It is a line that passes through the Civil War (see SPAN, February 1992)-itself not without revolutionary implication-and through a host of changes in the status of Americans of all races, beliefs, and classes." Editor's Note: This article is based on a speech fhatthe author delivered last year afthe

State University of New York at Binghamton.

It is significant that between 1776 and 1789 American leaders were interested less in the ideology than in the practical aspects of self-governance. George Washington warned his countrymen against entanglements in conflicts among European powers, and advised them to consult no more than the permanent interests Of their new nation. Idealist leaders such as Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, Henry Clay, and Abraham Lincoln were more concerned with creating a new society in America than with involvement in revolutions abroad. But they also possessed the continental vision of an "empire of liberty," a vision that,. for instance, inspired Jefferson's purchase of the Louisiana territory and his planning of western expeditions. Commercial interest and concern for territorial integrity were blended with Revolutionary idealism to form the basis for American thinking about its role in world affairs. In short, the idealism of early leaders was fully matched by a strong sense of practical considerations. From the latter part of the 19th century, however, conduct of American diplomacy became a complex affair in which ideology and emotion came into play. Many American leaders since then have felt tempted to engage in rhetoric and abstract principles that have not always been in consonance with international reality. Woodrow Wilson's idealism was in many respects a continuation of the older dream, but he imparted a new meaning to the American mission. Earlier expressions of idealism had focused only on the good that freedom would bring to others. For Wilson that idealism would serve as the foundation of a new international order-an order that would guarantee peace, and with it the highest interests of the United States. These hopes for a new era of peace received a setback with Wilson's inability to bring the United States into the League of Nations, and they were shattered by the aggressions of the 1930s. The United States emerged from World War IT as a superpower, with capabilities without parallel in history. Franklin Roosevelt and other American leaders dreamt, like Wilson, of a new world order that included the eradication of evil, abolition of spheres of influence, institutionalization of international cooperation for peaceful purposes, and the triumph of liberal democracy the world over. However, the Soviet Union's refusal to accept America's vision of the postwar world served as the primary catalyst for America's global involvements. The chief lesson of World War II, as interpreted by most American leaders, was the importance of power. In the past, they argued, American diplomacy had relied too much on moral principles and good intentions. The ultimate guarantee of a just cause, they now felt, was an adequate military force and the will to use it. Power, as American diplomat Henry Morgenthau saw it, must be the central foundation of national interest and criterion of foreign policy. This concern flowed naturally from the American colonial and national experience.


A former Indian diplomat examines the challenges and opportunities that face America as worn out concepts give way to new realities in a changing world. Inam Rahman is engaged in studies on the dynamics of leadership and change in contemporary societies. His career in public service included assignments as Ambassador and Permanent Representative of India to UNESCO in Paris, Minister in the Embassy of India in Washington, D.C., and Secretary General of the Indian Councilfor Cultural Relations.

Alexander Hamilton, writing in the Federalist, was emphatic that basic American interests in the I790s demanded coercive force to sustain adequate relations with other countries. To influence the international order, early American leaders had employed a popular democratic ideology, economic and military power, and a diplomacy that took advantage of the country's geography. How these four elements were actually used in foreign policy has determined the character and quality of the American experience as a nation among nations. America saw communism and growing communist power as the greatest danger to international stability and democratic values. This perception gave rise to the strategy of containment, not only for limiting the area of Soviet intluence but for creating a stable world order under American auspices. Harry Truman made this clear in announcing the Truman Doctrine. The task of helping others, Truman said, "is no more than a frank recognition that totalitarian regimes imposed on free peoples, by direct and indirect aggression, undermine the foundations of internatipnal peace and hence the security of the United States. " Thus globalism, anticommunism, containment, military might, and interventionism became the definitive aspects of the postwar pattern of American foreign policy. At the same time, the national quest for a balance between idealism and realism, between commitments and capabilities, between what is desirable and what is possible, found other expressions as well. For instance, the American foreign aid programs-the Marshall Plan, Food for Peace, and numerous others-were most timely, imaginative, and generous. They were also prudent, reflecting the highest standards of enlightened national interest. In the early I960s, the torch was passed to a new generation of Americans--eonfident, conscious of a historic mission, and mobilized for the great task of carrying it out. Those were the years of affluence, idealism, and belief in the capacity of Americans to solve problems and to improve the lives of vulnerable citizens. John F. Kennedy's New Frontier embraced

all these themes. Hjs principal success was in projecting to the world the image of a forward-looking creative leader who espoused the Alliance for Progress, who was an eloquent champion ofliberty and a forceful advocate of movement away from Cold War rigidities. Lyndon Johnson succeeded in compiling an astonishing record of far-reaching legislative measures and governmental actions in pursuit of his war on poverty and discrimination. But¡ Vietnam shattered his dreams for the Great Society, and taught the lesson that the power to destroy is not the power to control. The Nixon Administration envisaged an international system in which the United States, the Soviet Union, Western Europe, Japan, and China would be the principal actors. A central element of the Nixon doctrine was a triangular strategic-political relationship encompassing the United States, China, and the Soviet Union; and a trilateral economic relationship that comprised the United States. Japan, and Western Europe. The fresh relations with China and the Soviet Union initiated by Richard Nixon were thus part of a much broader reorientation of American diplomacy. Despite these changes in orientation the United States continued to prefer firmly anticommunist regimes as its allies. Nevertheless, the American diplomatic initiatives of that time started a process that was to change the context of international relations. In the 1970s, Americans faced several intractable problems, foreign and domestic. A series of unpredictable events overwhelmed the Carter Administration-a rise in international terrorism, seizure of American hostages in Iran, Soviet intervention in Afghanistan, and the hike in oil prices in the international market. These events caused widespread resentment and also a feeling of powerlessness among the people. In this mood, few cared to take pride in the positive record of the Carter presidency, such as his deep concern for human rights and the Camp David Middle East accords. The shocking realization of the limits of America's capacity to shape the world became a turning point in the attitude of the peopk. Feelings of frustration gave way to anger and a more aggressive stance. Americans were not going to be pushed around. Calls for strong leadership were never more strident. The call was answered by Ronald Reagan, whose vision of America's role in the world was radically different from those of his predecessors. Reagan, in the words of Leslie Gelb and Anthony Lake, "reversed the logic: Washington policies should not have to adjust to the world-a strong reassertive America could make the world adjust to Washington." Globalism, anticommunism, containment, military might, and interventionism remained the central themes of American foreign policy, but the Reagan presidency infused them with new meaning. Thus globalism, which earlier meant internationalism and multilateralism, now meant unilateralism. Having been the chief architect and supporter of the United Nations system, the


United States became its most outspoken critic. International institutions, at least on a selective basis, were now perceived to be obstacles to the promotion of American foreign policy goals unless they fell in line with the wishes of the U.S. policymakers.

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various stages in history different societies have served as a catalyst for change by stimulating imitation and adaptation in others. Currently it is the American society that is playing this role, and with unparalleled success. What makes America unique is not only that it is in the forefront of creating and experiencing the new and the unusual, but also because of the range and reach of its infl uence, which has no precedent. The modern world is being transformed by two epochmaking developments-the technological revolution and the democratic movement. These developments are closely linked' with political changes in the global power structure and they are interrelated. The impact of modern technology on society is so pervasive that it defies any objective assessment, but we can already see and experience how recent advances in communications and transportation are rapidly changing the ways people live, work, think, and interact with each other. Science and technology have a profound effect on the values and institutions of society as a whole and therefore on the processes and patterns of decision making. The new burgeoning class of research scientists, engineers, technicians, and professional managers has evolved a new definition of rationality, a new mode of thought. America has played the leading role in creating and shaping this new worldwide community-the Republic of Technology, as historian Daniel Boorstin calls it. A more visible impact of technology is in the area of mass consumerism. By producing more goods at less cost, and a never-ending stream of new goods, it has been largely instrumental in raising the living standards of Americans to a level that is the envy of the world. But technology is also totally egalitarian. It transcends differences in time, place, people; and therein lies the hope for all mankind. The rising tide of democracy that is inundating the countries of East Europe and the former Soviet Union is making daily headlines. Considering the unexpectedly sudden collapse of their regimes and the larger significance of the unfolding events there, the excitement is understandable. But we will do well to recognize that these developments are the most spectacular manifestations of a phenomenon that is truly global in scope. There are new powerful forces actively promoting democratization. They include the media of mass communications, growth of knowledge, spread of education, improved health and living standards, rising aspirations. No wonder governments everywhere are finding it harder to control the direction of change within their own societies. They find it harder to prevent new voices from speaking out and demanding a role in policymaking. Authoritarian regimes are under increasing pressure to defend their legitimacy. The debate on the concepts of liberty. equality, and justice----eentral political issues in all democracies-has become worldwide. And democratic movements

around the world have been inspired by the American example. Within the United States, the free movement of people and ideas, abundance of consumer goods and services, and the vibrancy of the various civil rights movements provide persuasive evidence ofa healthy, democratic society. But there is one aspect of democracy in America that in my view deserves greater recognition than it has so far received. And that is the democratization of educational opportunity. For long Americans have believed that "education is the rock on which America must build her political salvation." National leaders such as Abraham Lincoln viewed education as "the most important subject which we, as a people, can be engaged in." The question of the meaning of equality was therefore nowhere more sharply posed than in education. Two uniquely American inventions-the free public school and the landgrapt college-supplied the answer in a substantial measure. Thanks to ceaseless debate, experimentation, and innovation, the school and college in America has been gradually transformed from an institution providing specialized learning to a few into an opportunity for all to strive toward growth and selfrealization as responsible members of the community. The "common bounty" of higher education in America is being shared by an increasingly large number of students from other lands too.

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he universal fascination for the United States of America is inspired not only by its superpower status but even more by the fact that it has become a strong symbol of freedom. democracy, opportunity, and achievement. Contemporary America is widely perceived both as a model to emulate and as the social laboratory of the world. For several years there was considerable speculation about America's decline. The disintegration of communist ideology and the folly perpetrated by Sad dam Hussein put an end to this dubious activity. The Gulfwar highlighted the U.S. leadership role and seemed to give a boost to American self-esteem. Undoubtedly a new era has begun. And in this new era, the United States finds itself in an unchallenged position of influence in world affairs. Will America seize this all too rare opportunity to provide wise leadership in shaping a brighter future for its own people and for mankind as a whole? Or will America decide that it has had enough of the world's problems? The answer depends on the perceptions of American leaders about the emerging world structure and the nation's capacity to shape events to its own advantage. On both counts we can be confident of a positive response. At this stage. any forecast about the new form the world structure would take is hazardous. Nonetheless. there can hardly be any dispute about its main features which may be summarized as follows: • The United States as the superpower, especially in political and military affairs. • The emergence of a multipolar world with several centers of economic power including the United States, the European Economic Community (EEC), and Japan. • Growing importance of technological power.


• More attention to the issues of collective security, arms control, human rights, environment, and sustainable economic development. This outline should leave us in no doubt about America's stakes, heavy as they are, in the emerging world order; nor is there any reason to be skeptical about the country's capacity to shape events. The formidable clout that America has in military and political affairs, including naturally its diplomacy, is so obvious that we need not dwell on this point. What about the U.S. economy and other sources of national power? Until about a decade ago, the power and the prestige of the United States to fashion international trade and monetary policies were supreme. The shortsighted policies of the 1980s, based on the "low tax, high spending" ideology resulted in "an economy of debt unrivaled in American history," according to historian Gordon S. Wood. This coincided with the emergence of new centers of economic power in the world. The United States still has a strong leverage in this respect but it has now to compete. as well as cooperate, with the EEC, Japan, and other economic powers. Be that as it may, national economic power for the United States is and will continue to be a most potent instrument in foreign policy. Any assessment of national power today is an extremely complex affair. For it must take into account not only the classic components-economic and military power, geography, population, raw materials-but also a variety of new or

The United States is now well placed for the leading role in strengthening the existing structures of international cooperation and in creating new institutions where needed.

improved sources of power such as education and skills, advanced technology, information gathering, and disseminating capabilities. In this context, we can hardly overlook the attraction of the American ideals of freedom, equality, rule of law, personal well-being-or. for that matter, of American popular culture, which enjoys immense following around the world. A rather elusive element is the perception of power, which has become as important as power itself. Notice, for instance. how the media cover world events. Their tendency to present many of the events in quick. intense images puts enormous emphasis on the appearance of power, especially military and technological power. The United States commands all these sources of power to a degree that arouses admiration in some, apprehension and envy in others. The question is how they might be utilized to the ma?,imum advantage of the United States and the world? This question assumes special importance in view of the perceived ambiguity in American attitude toward the use of power in international affairs. According to political scientist John Spanier, "The perception of power as simply the raw material of international politics-its use as an instrument of compromise, conciliation, and moderation of interstate politics, its

discriminating application towar9 achievement of specific and less-than-total objectives-was clearly antithetical to the American understanding of power." One may not fully endorse this view, but it does go a considerable way toward defining the American moral dilemnia and explaining the shifts in attitudes from one extreme to the other, from isolationism to interventionism, from withdrawal to crusading and massive retaliation. It comes as no surprise to a foreign, observer that quite a few influential Americans should be advocating that the United States lay down all the rules of the new world order. The question is not whether it can, but whether it should do so. It does seem to me that the experience of the past four decades has given the United States a good understanding of the uses and abuses, as well as of the limitations, of power and that the enhanced stature of the United States will itselfbe a moderating influence in any future exercise of its coercive powers on the international scene. One of the many definitions of power is the ability to get others to do what you want done or what they otherwise would not do. America can play its leadership role more effectively by mobilizing a multilateral initiative and response, as recent events have shown. The obstacles that had stood in the way of the fulfillment of Woodrow Wilson's and Franklin Roosevelt's dreams ofcollective international action do not exist today. This is not to say that the United Nations as presently constituted is adequately equipped for the tasks ahead. Far from it. In regard to collective security, for instance, the United Nations on its own is in no position to give any guarantees. let alone to ensure their enforcement. The United States now has the opportunity to provide persuasive leadership for strengthening the collective security arrangements under U.N. auspices. In the crucial area of arms control it is difficult to visualize a time more opportune for the military powers to decide in favor of voluntary reductions in their lethal arsenals. It will be most appropriate for the United States to take the initiative in this respect. The advantages of doing so are obvious. Apart from affirming the U.S. role as a responsible and responsive leader, an initiative of this nature is bound to improve the prospects for more meaningful discussions and actions to curb the use and proliferation of nuclear, biological, and chemical weapons. We see that in other matters too, the United Nations is effective only as long as its most powerful members agree among themselves and get their way. Should we not try to evolve a different but equally effective arrangement that avoids the tyranny of the powerful minority as much as it overcomes the tyranny of the weak majority? Given the will, such an arrangement should not be beyond human ingenuity. A concerted effort to build international law and conventions may well provide the answer. A fine example of what can be achieved through cooperation and determination. inspired by a realistic vision of the future, is the Law of the Sea Treaty. In successfully using the umbrella of the United Nations to lead the punitive action against Iraq, the United States rightly decided to abandon its unilateral stance of the last decade. The United States is now well placed for the leading role in strengthening the existing structures of international coopera-


tion and in creating new institutions where needed. . This brings me to the U.S. decision, regrettably taken in 1984, to withdraw from the United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO). I do not see any valid reason for the United States to continue to stay away from an international organization that is primarily concerned with the growth of knowledge and sharing of ideas, an organization that earlier the United States did so much to create and develop. Surely the time has come for a review of the U.S. position in respect of the only organization charged with building the defenses of peace in the minds of men. Besides questions of war and peace, there are several other global issues confronting us that call for concerted action by the international community as a whole. Among them are human rights and fundamental freedoms, environmental hazards, population pressures, trafficking in drugs, and assertion of separate identities based on ethnicity, race, and religion. These are enough to give an idea of the vast range of problems demanding urgent attention. But the international agenda is likely to be dominated by economic issues, and for reasons that are apparent. Much of the national power of developed countries springs from their economy and technology. Growing economic integration and interdependence are creating a situation of intense competition among major economic powers. At the same time there is increasing realization of the need for collective strategies and regional groupings. Thus we have the Group of Seven, the EEC, the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN), etc. Open market economy and protectionism are learning to coexist. Multinational corporations are playing a more influential role in the global economy than ever before. The other side of the coin is the unenviable situation of the less developed countries. Poverty is the main obstacle to economic development and social change. Economic growth thus becomes an essential condition for democracy. Indeed, democratic governments seem to acquit themselves best in conditions of economic prosperity. Political intolerance, social injustice, environmental neglect will continue to characterize life in developing countries as long as the majority of their people languish in the cycle of poverty, illiteracy, rapid population growth, and deprivation. Such countries are desperately in need of help to break through the vicious circle. The worldwide democratic movement may create an environment conducive to democratization, but it alone cannot produce the economic and social conditions necessary for democratization within a particular country or group of countries. There is a real danger that at least some of the smaller countries, driven by economic or nationalistic compulsions, might opt out of democratic institutions if the international community fails to come to their help soon and in adequate measure. Here again the U.S. lead will make the crucial difference. As far as India is concerned, democracy has stood the test of time, and it is in no imrriinent danger. But then nowhere can democracy be taken for granted. And it is unfortunate, but undeniable, that India is passing through particularly trying

times. But India is changing despite some cultural obstacles to change. However, the dominant attitudes all favor rapid change and there is already a good infrastructure in place for this purpose. National integrity and sustainable economic development in a democratic system remain the highest priorities for India. The most pressing question now facing India is: What can be done to release the economy from the present constraints, and with it the creative impulses of the people? There does not seem to be any alternative to a much more open, innovative, and efficient economic policy coupled with a significant international collaborative effort. Only this combination could enable India to restore its economy and set it soaring to new heights. It is not too much to expect that the United States would be in the forefront of international cooperation in this venture. he real challenge for the United States today is how to replace the worn out concepts of balance of power and dominance with the new realities and opportunities of the changing global situation. The new world order cannot be a mere rearrangement of the old. For, as we have noted, it is being molded by new forces active in world politics as never before. Also there are limits to collective security and economic integration that must be recognized and respected. Nation states are not yet ready to willingly compromise their sovereignty. Wise leadership can do more to enhance America's image and the degree of its international influence than aggressive display of military or economic power. Less reliance on military might and coercion, more on powers of persuasion and standard setting in international discourse, should be the guiding principles. The great enemy of any civilization is its rigidity, the great strength its flexibility and openness. America has shown that social change, technical progress, economic power structures, and divergent class and ethnic groups could all be contained within "a society flexible enough to allow for dynamism without tyranny," as historian Max Lerner said. Lately a disconcerting tendency has grown in many parts of the world to take to heart Spanish¡ writer and diplomat Salvador de Madariaga's ironic remark: "The trouble with the world is that there are so many foreigners in it." The concept of the open society is today of great relevance to the world. America's role as an exemplar of this vital concept may well stimulate new arrangements and experiments in federalism. This could become a crucial element in the evolution of a new world order. President George Bush described the new world order as "not a blueprint that will govern the conduct of nations," but as "new ways of working with other nations to deter aggression and to achieve prosperity and, above all, to achieve peace." Finding new ways of working with other nations and developing relations of mutual respect and satisfaction with them to achieve shared goals-that indeed is the heart of the matter. Former Israeli Foreign Minister Abba Eban is reported to have said, "Men and nations do the sensible thing only after they have exhausted the other options." "Liberty's nation" need not feel bound by this dictum. 0

T


Right: A group of schoolchildren welcome the train on its arrival in Chainpur, Bihar, with colored paper flags.

O

n September 2, 1991, ll-yearold Sunil Kumar of Madanpur village in Aurangabad got a

new lease on life. Sunil was struck by polio at birth. When he was about seven, doctors of a Jain charitable trust in Dhanbad, Bihar,

performed surgery on his leg. His father, Ram Parvesh, was told to bring Sunil back to the hospital in three years for follow-up treatment. But when the time came, Ram Parvesh could not afford a journey to Dhanbad, and young Sunil was condemned to lead a crippled life. Then, early last year, came a glimmer of hope. A government official advised Ram Parvesh to "try his luck" with the Lifeline Express. The world's first hospital on wheels, the Lifeline Express 'arrived at Chainpur in West Bokaro, Bihar, on August 26, 1991.

The world's first hospital train, the Lifeline Express is a unique experiment to bring the benefits of modern surgery to people living in remote parts of India.

HOSPITAL ON WHEELS


On September I, the doctors examined Sunil, and the following day they performed surgery on his leg and placed it in a plaster cast. Two-and-a-half weeks later, they removed the plaster, examined the leg, and fitted him with a caliper. Sunil can now walk. His despair-to-hope story is just one of hundreds that were witnessed on the Lifeline Express. The Lifeline Express-or the Jeevan Rekha Express-is a dream project of

IMPACT India, part of a New Yorkbased international voluntary organization sponsored by several United Nations agencies-UNDP, UNICEF, and WHO. The genesis for the hospital train lay in two earlier projects of IMPACT India, which is devoted to fighting disease and disability. Around the mid-1980s, it initiated a child immunization program in the slums of Bombay and Madras, which led to a significant decline in the incidence of

polio cases in these areas. Later it established Cure on Wheels-mobile vans equipped with surgical facilities reaching out to places with no hospitals-which put scores of polio-afflicted children on their feet. Buoyed by the success of these two projects, IMPACT India decided to launch the ambitious Lifeline Express to bring the benefits of modern medicine, free of cost, to millions of poor villagers living in remote and inaccessible parts of India.


The novel project has been developed with assistance from the Indian Railways and the Ministry of Health, and it is funded by numerous international organizations and Indian companies and individual donors. Among them are the U.S. Agency for International Development, IMPACT UK, Rotary Club, Volkart Foundation, National Institute for Orthopaedic Handicaps, Coal India, Central Coalfields Lim-

Left: In a gesture of thanksgiving, tribalsfrom Khalari, including some whose children had been operatedfor polio andfilled ivith calipers, bade the Lifeline Express farewell with a traditional dance. Top and above: Doctors pelform surgery in the. train's operation theater, which has three operating tables. The only fillings that remain from the original first-class air-conditioned coach are the ceiling fans. Right: Ten-year-old Rohit Kumar Soni of Khalari, crippled by polio since birth, had spent all his life crawling or being carried by his parents-until doctors of the Lifeline Expressfilled him with a caliper and gave him a set of sturdy crutches.


ited, the Tata group of industries, and the Indian Oil Corporation. The Lifeline Express comprises three coaches. One houses an air-conditioned surgery theater with three adjustable operating tables, a sterilization room, a diagnostic center, and lying-in wards. The other two coaches have been converted into living quarters for the medical, paramedical, and technical staff; an administrative office, computer room, pathology lab, pantry, and a utility center forthe air-conditioning units and generators. One thing this gleaming hospital on wheels does not have is its own staff of doctors and nurses. Instead, says Mohan Shukla, IMPACT India representative in Delhi, "Each of our destinations has a sponsoring agency, which provides not only the services of doctors and paramedical personnel, but also undertakes to inform the villagers and to register the patients months in advance of the train's arrival." The Lifeline Express set out from Bombay's Victoria Terminus station on

Above: A nurse helps a youngster tryout his hearing aid. Operations on the Lifeline Express are confined to three areas-polio, cataract, and curable deafness. Right above: Three children, recently fitted with calipers, pose infront of the "magic" train. Right: A Lifeline Express staffer adjusts a young patient's caliper.

June 16, 1991, on its pilot journey to Khalari, a small mining town in Bihar, and then to Chainpur. In the fitness of things, the train was flagged offby a nineyear-old polio-stricken child, Sangeeta Pagdhare, of Navapur village in Maharashtra, who had been a beneficiary of the Cure-on-Wheels project. Speaking at the flagging-off ceremony for the Lifeline Express, A.N. Shukla, general manager of Western Railway, said, "This unique project is the first of its kind in the world. It will cover the expanse of the Indian

Railways' vast network penetrating remote areas where medical facilities are not available." The overwhelming response to the Lifeline at its six-week stopover in Khalari surprised the officials of IMPACT India and the sponsoring company, Coal India. Within hours of its arrival, the railway station was besieged by thousands of patients and their families and friends, hoping to find cure for their ailments. Doctors attended to hundreds of cases


of polio, ear, and eye ailments. Sevenyear-old Bijoy Yadav, a polio victim who had traveled 120 kilometers with his father to get to Khalari, was the first patient to be operated on the Lifeline. Doctors succeeded in restoring movement to his young but infirm legs. "Our main focus at present," says Zelma Lazarus, director of IMPACT India, "is prevention of disablement and restoring sight, hearing, and mobility." The hospital train, she adds, also aims at strengthening child immunization campaigns and health education programs. The Lifeline Express is not geared to treating complicated medical cases. The one-month program in Chain pur, hosted by the Tata Iron and Steel Company, also witnessed enthusiastic response. Sunil was only one of hundreds of patients, many of whom came from places¡ as far away as Uttar Pradesh, Madhya Pradesh, and Maharashtra, who got a new lease on life. Among them were 80-year-old Manohar Ram, who had his cataracts removed; Shanti Devi, 35, who can now see as a result of an intraocular lens transplant; six-year-old poliostricken Binod Gope, who now walks confidently with the help of calipers; and Premi Devi, 35, who gained partial hearing, thanks to a sophisticated hearing aid. In all, doctors at Chainpur treated 719 polio patients, 506 eye patients, and hun-

New Life for an Old Crop Despite its strong position in the global economy, wheat today faces tough natural challenges-new pests and disease strains, climate extremes, environmental dangers. Scientists at the U.S. Agricultural Research Service are working on some 200 projects to grow more and better wheat.

dreds of patients with hearing problems, providing hearing aids to 150 of them. Yet, at both Khalari and Chainpur, many patients went back home disappointed, either because they had ailments that needed the services of a full-fledged hospital-which they were advised to visit-or because they suffered from incurable diseases. One such patient was Vikash, a five-year-old deaf child. His father had brought Vikash to Chain pur hoping that the "magic" train would restore his child's hearing. That was not to be. When the doctors told the father that Vikash suffered from a congenital defect in his ears and he didn't respond to the audiometer and there was no way he could get his hearing restored, he was crestfallen. The father pleaded with the doctors to examine Vikash once more. And, to please him, they did, but to no avail. The doctors advised the father to enroll his son in the Education Audiology Research Centre in Tatanagar for rehabilitation therapy. Said a doctor, "This is not a miracle train." For most patients, however, it was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Not only were they attended to by a dedicated band of doctors and paramedical staff, but they didn't have to pay even a single paisafor operations, calipers, hearing aids, or anything else.

The Lifeline Express is now fully operational. Early this month, under the aegis of the Indian Oil Corporation, it completed a month of medical service to thousands more in Mathura, Uttar Pradesh. The hospital train now is headed to Gauriganj in Amethi district, Uttar Pradesh, where the Rajiv Gandhi Foundation will be its host. The Lifeline Express seems destined to bring hope and health to millions as it crisscrosses the entire length and the breadth of India. This shining example of the power of voluntary service may also affect medical care beyond India's borders. "This type of project will not only prove beneficial to India, but indeed to all developing countries where medical aid does not reach the rural interiors," says Zelma Lazarus. IMPACT India invites individuals and corporations to donate their time and talent 10 the Lifeline Express. For details contact: Zelina Lazarus, IMPACT Time Bank, C/o UNDP, Ravindra Mansion, 2nd floor, Dinsha Vachha Road, Bombay 400020. Telephone: 2029520/ 366328. Or, Mohan Shukla, IMPACT Time Bank, 10 A, Kasturba Gandhi Marg, New Delhi 110001. Telephone: 3327723. About the Author: Glen based writer, is aformer Indian Post. He has also and Afternoon Despatch

D'souza, a Bombaychief reporter of The reportedfor Mid-Day and Courier.

Do-it -Yourself

A History of Advertising

Innovative entrepreneurs have added exciting new dimensions to America's traditional "do-it-yourself" passion by marketing kits for an ever-growing range of itemshomes, automobiles, boats, furniture, and even full-size airplanes.

A look at American advertising in the past two centuries gives interesting glimpses of the country's commercial history, its changing social mores and morals, and, of course, design trends.

Economic Gain and Environmental

Growth

William K. Reilly, administrator of the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency, explains how a healthy environment and a healthy economy reinforce each other.


ON

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C

ornelius Bull's life work is to encourage American possibilities," says Roger Smith, a guidance counselor at students to step outside "the academic lockstep," the Choate-Rosemary Hall in Connecticut. According to Steve Life Dance he mockingly describes like this: "First you Loy, headmaster of the Dunn School in California, "His go to elementary school, then you go to high school, then you go message is basically that time off from school is not time wasted to college, and then you go to graduate school; then you get a if you have a plan. And any plan is a good plan if it's well thought out." job, get married, have three children, retire, and die." Bull would like to free everyone from this particular variation of the Bull's most celebrated former client may be Michael Lewis, Karmic wheel. author of the best-selling expose of Wall Street, Liar's Poker. Bull's vehicle for change is his Cambridge, MassachusettsWhen Lewis took time off from Princeton University, Bull sent based Center for Interim Programs, a service that enables him to London to study music, and to Bloomsbury, New clients to pursue structured alternatives to formal education or Jersey, to work with a cabinet maker. work. For a fee, he matches a person's interests with a One recent client was 20-year-old Will Noonan, whose plan smorgasbord of options-some 4,000 in all-that he has develwas to take a year off and pursue an interim program, while oped during 30 years as a teacher and headmaster. Bull's deferring admission to Connecticut College. "I wasn't sure offerings in so-called "experiential education" can range from what I wanted to do when I got to college," he explains. "I figured I'd spend a little time and go out into the real world and teaching English in Nepal to building furniture in New Jersey to herding sheep in Australia. His clients include high-school get some experience. It seemed like it would be easier to do this before college than after, when seniors seeking a constructive adventure before entering colthere would be pressure to get a job." Under Bull's guidance, lege, college "stop-outs" trying Noonan crafted a program that to sharpen hazy career goals, included studying public policy corporate executives on the and journalism at the Youth edge of burnout, and mothers Policy Institute in Washington, no longer raising children and D.C., working on a farm at the looking for new directions. Heifer Institute in Arkansas, A pewter-haired man with a and remodeling homes for rugged profile, Bull is the kind American Indians on a reservaof "no-nonsense" guy whose tion in Ontario, Canada. car might sport a "Question Noonan got something difFormer teacher and headmaster Cornelius Authority" bumper sticker. Of ferent out of each phase of the American education, he says, Bull (below) designs alternative educational or program. His time at the Youth "We've created this narrow work programs for people seeking Policy Institute influenced his linguistic system that says that new directions and meanings in their lives. decision to study government if you can do left-brain analytiin college. The Heifer r nstitute cal things, you're fine, but any exposed him to rural living. At right-brain intuitive skills are the Frontiers Foundation in of no use .... " On education and northern Ontario, in addition its relationship to schooling: to working with American In"Maybe George Bernard Shaw dians, he experienced the culwas right when he said that 'the ture shock of being the only only time my education was American among a group of interrupted was when I was in Turkish, Chinese, Australian, school.' Schools are very imand Swedish volunteers. "More portant, but are they really than anything else," he emplaces where you get an phasizes, "the program gave education?" me confidence in myself to go Bull makes such points in out and do things. It matured addresses at secondary schools me a lot." throughout the country. "He There are other orgamencourages people to step back zations that provide services and examine the full range of similar to Bull's. The Foundation for Field Research in AlOriginally published in the Princeton Alumni pine, California, for example, Journal. Copyright t 1990 Angelo John Lewis.

Breaking the Academic Mold


I think it is vitally important for human beings to give themselves permission to step out of the mold. We start out life as butterflies and too often end as cocoons. - CORNELIUS BULL

matches volunteers with botanists, archaeologists, primatologists, and other researchers. The Amherst, Massachusetts-based Community Services Volunteers arranges for students to do full-time volunteer work in Britain. However, Bull insists that no organization can match his in the wide variety of options offered. "No one has the resources I have, nor the experience." Bull's belief in experiential learning stems from his own experiences, as a learner and as an educator. The son of a newspaperman, he grew up in Washington, D.C., and attended the Lawrenceville School before entering Princeton University in New Jersey in 1944, graduating six years later (including two years out for Navy service) with a degree in history. As a learner, he recalls being "an indifferent student" who tested poorly qnd who didn't hit his stride intellectually until college. "I was told that I didn't really have much gift for languages because I had flunked Latin. But I eventually learned five languages. I was a very intuitive learner, an aural learner." Following graduation, he taught at Lawrenceville for ten years, then served as headmaster of Roberts College in Istanbul and of the Verde Valley School in Arizona. His first exposure to experiential learning came at Verde Valley, which had a compulsory program that sent half the students to live on an American Indian reservation for three weeks and the other half to live in villages in Mexico. "The school was strongly committed to experiential education, and I saw the impac.t it had on learning." The seed planted, Bull began collecting information on experiential opportunities for young people, and when he moved on to the headmastership of the American International School in Vienna, Austria, he began putting some of his concepts in practice. "A history teacher and I encouraged a group of seniors to create a civilization from scratch, with its own language and artifacts, then to bury everything in the woods. The next year, a group of eighth graders dug everything up and interpreted it. Students started asking their families about archaeology, about why societies did things, and how laws were formed. Suddenly, they could relate the study of history to what was going on in life." Following a briefheadmastership at a school in San Antonio, Texas, Bull settled in Princeton, New Jersey, as a free-lance fund-raiser for several institutions. An experience with his daughter, Holly, provided the impetus for starting the Center for Interim Programs. Holly was on the verge of graduating from Princeton High School, but before entering the University of Virginia in Charlottesville she wanted to spend s(.lme time abroad, study marine biology, and learn another foreign lan-

guage. (She was already fluent in German.) To help fund this prototype interim program, Bull and his wife, Mimi, put up $500, with the stipulation that their daughter would have to earn whatever else she needed. Holly worked at a restaurant before starting a four-month volunteer job at the Oceanic Institute in Kailua, Hawaii. She returned home for nine weeks to earn enough money to allow her to spend a spring term in a Greek island, studying Greek language and literature, followed by a stint living with a farm family in a Greek mountain village. Planning Holly's program-and seeing its results-inspired Bull to make a career shift. "I remember bicycling one day up Mt. Lucas Road from my home to the campus, and three people stopped me to ask if I would put together programs for them." His other children-Sam and Neil, Jr.-eventually did interim programs, too. Bull went full time with the Center for Interim Programs in 1980. In 1988, he changed his base to Cambridge, to be closer to the family farm in New Hampshire and to the New England schools from which he draws many of his clients. He spends much of his time tracking down new options, many of which come to him through his grapevine of friends and former students, or through his talent for networking. Bull says, "Every single person I meet is a resource: People who've just got back from Tonga, or who work in the theater. I just got a postcard from one of myoId students who's in Chad, telling me of a farmer he met there who might host a working"~tudent someday." time. For his Bul: ~;;~mages about 250 clients at anyone service:>; he charges a flat fee of $800, which gives a client access to Bull's time and files for several years. There is "no typical cost" for a program, says Bull. "Academic things like attending a school or going on a field trip obviously cost money, but there are many things such as internships and social service work that cost the client nothing except the price of a bus ticket to get there." Among Bull's clients are older people, especially what he calls "empty-nested mothers" and burned-out executives. He says, "There's a whole group of mothers whose kids are off to college and who are wondering what to do with the rest of their lives. Many of them are well educated, but haven't been career women and now have to start from scratch." He spoke of an executive who has labored for the same company for 25 years: "His children are grown, and he can retire with a nice pension if he could just hang on for another seven years. But he doesn't believe he wants to stay on that long. I want to help him reconceptualize his life. For example, he says he wants to work with his hands, to build a house from scratch. Well, that's easy. There are places where you can do that." For all of his clients, Bull's message is the same: "I think it is vitally important for human beings to give themselves permission to step out of the mold. We start out life as butterflies and too often end as cocoons-it's all backwards." 0 About the Author: Angelo John Lell'is is a sraffll'l'iler(or lhe Office ojDevetopmenl Communicalions, Princelon Universily. Prine'elon, Nell' Jersey.


MAJOR

MODERN

ESSAYISTS

Celebrating the Essay

~l~:, . T

hough the essay as a distinct literary genre has been courted and coveted by some of the greatest writers of the English language, it has never quite attained its rightful place in the community ofletters. While the poem, the novel, and the play walk into the parlor, or mount the podium, as if it is their privilege, the essay is often treated as a poor relation come in from the cold. No wonder, it has en route sought hospitality within the folds of the novel, the memoir, or the autobiography, and led a fairly nomadic, shy, furtive, or vicarious existence. Of course, ever since Frenchman Michel Eyquem de Montaigne, who is still regarded as the essay's putative father, the pure essayists have struggled to keep its special credentials in order, wedded as they are to a vision of the genre's freedom. But for most novelists and poets, the essay has been a by-blow of sorts. Ironically, for that very reason, it has attained a raffish charm. Either way, it has managed to survive despite frequent notices about its impending demise. For, if the essay is "an enactment of the creation of the' self," as O.B. Hardison argues in a recent defense of the embattled genre, then it has a constitutive franchise. or an existential lease. Major Modem Essayists* presents some of the most impressive and eloquent essays of our times. Although meant chiefly for the American college student,

Englewood

edilcd by Gilbert H. Muller. Prentice Hall.

Cliffs. New Jersey.

1991. pp. 476. paperback.

SINGH MAINI

The author recommends this collection of "some of the most ... eloquent essays of our times" to the "essay addict and the cognoscente alike."

~~

• Major Modern £.sslIyisIS.

by DARSHAN

$24.

the collection's appeal extends to the essay addict and the cognoscente alike. It is truly a beautiful house of words, assembled block by block, and furnished with delicate care, taste, and understanding. Tn his preface Professor Gilbert H. Muller, the volume's editor, has set down the parameters of the exercise. The collection reveals a distinctive aesthetic at work in relation to the format and the economy of the enterprise. It confines itself to 20thcentury writers~from Virginia Woolf to Annie Dillard~and offers a rich, varied, and generous fare~"a variety of voices, rhetorical modes, and prose forms." The essays included in this volume come from such diverse areas of study as history, art, literature, ecology, science, medicine, philosophy, linguistics, and sports, thus encompassing almost the entire spectrum of modern life, thought, and aesthetic. The 20 essayists~ten men and ten women~are drawn from Great Britain, the United States, Canada, and Africa, and represent white, black, Hispanic, and American-Chinese cultures. Each is fielded with three to five pieces of prose to bring out the aroma and ambience of his or her work. A very thoughtful and efficient presentation but I was disappointed to find no Indian writer here despite the fact that India produces the third largest volume of literature in English in the world. Even more mystifying is the omission of other Commonwealth writers such as V.S. Naipaul and George Lamming. The kind of colonial experience they represent, and the kind of English they ha ve evolved to

render the agony and irony of their situation, cannot simply be found in other texts and contexts. In a critique of this size and nature, it is not possible to take up each individual essayist. and bring out the virtues of his or her prose in terms of thought, signature, and style. Nor is there any room 'for adequate illustrations. The difficulty is compounded where some pieces and passages, like period wines, yield their taste and flavor in slow, measured sips, and one has to savor long periods of prose to register their presence. I propose, therefore, to touch on some known classics, and on a couple of new American voices that have lifted prose to a level where it pleases and charms, compels and holds. To set Virginia Woolf at the head of the table is to recall appropriately her celebrated (and much misunderstood) statement: "Human nature changed in or about December 1910," which, though formulated in the context of the Parisian Cubists and Surrealists, defined strikingly a certain shift in modern sensibility. and in the ways of appropriating experience for art. The volume under review purports, above all, to show this aspect through some of the profoundest moments of modern prose. Woolfs essays included here~"Professions for Women," "The Death of the Moth," and "Middlebrow"~illustrate the resilience of the domesticated gypsy genre, for the essays in question are in the form of a public address, a series of "dispersed meditations" (Bacon's definition of the essay), and a public letter in that order.


Her style accordingly is, in turn, chatty, witty, and conversational; graphic, vivid, and figurative; puckish, fey, and mocking. Our next port of call is E.B. White, who almost created the modern American essay out of the proven energies and felicities of the American tongue. The Nelt' Yorker style, which he fashioned and honed into an instrument of precision, control, and dry wit, subsuming conversational latencies, has become a modish American model for high-profile magazine writing in English everywhere. As an essayist, White truly divined the purpose of the light essay as an evocation of "the small things of the day, the trivial matters of the heart." That's where the essay and the short story come closest to each other, for each deals, in essence, with "significant insignificances," and each makes a song out of marginalities and memorabilia, even as each seeks to convey some profound truths. In his long and delightful essay, "The Ring of Time," in which White describes the sheer magic of the circus, and the nostalgia of those visits, the reader is, along with the writer, rolling, cavorting, freewheeling, and trapezing over the artifacts of language: The rider's gaze, as she peered straight ahead, seemed to be circular. ..then time itself began running in circles, and so the beginning was where the end was, and the two were the same .... Everything in her movements, her expression, told you that for her the ring of time was perfectly formed, changeless, predictable, without beginning or end, like the ring in which she was traveling at this moment with the horse that wallowed under her. And then I slipped back into my trance, and time was circular again-time, pausing quietly with the rest of us, so as not to disturb the balance of a performer.

For those who can overhear the echoes from T.S. Eliotand recall the metaphor of the ring from 17th-century metaphysical poets, an essay of this kind becomes a treat for the mind. George Orwell, who was something of a secular visionary and the conscience of a troubled race, is represented here by his much anthologized essays such as "A

Hanging," "Shooting an Elephant," "Politics and the English Language," "The Moon under Water," and "Why I Write." These and several similar pieces have come to stay as classic examples of plate glass and reflexive prose. The main features of this prose are a controlled, nervous, and efficient style, a freshness of idiom and metaphor, an organic¡development of thought, a concreteness of detail, a precision of statement, and a strong moral, Protestant vein. And over the whole exercise presides a fine, subtle, and noble imagination-the imagination of "sincerity and authenticity." In employing Lionel Trilling's terms I'm reminded of the fact that the American critic's great admiration for Orwell rested, among other things, upon the Orwellian "No, in Thunder" to all shams and hypocrisies, and all cant and casuistry. No wonder, in Orwell's own words, "the imagination, like certain wild animals, will not breed in captivity." From Orwell to James Baldwin is only a leap from color and continent to a similar sensibility, for despite their different backgrounds and situations and their worldview, each of them was passionately and vigilantly devoted to the idea of truth as he saw it, and to the search for a corresponding rhetoric and style. And this is why each voice, in its own context, rings so truly, so resonantly, and so movingly. Baldwin's prose is today widely recognized as a glorious example of American writing marked by a sense of classical dignity and vitality, and by a rhetoric of thunder", dream, and prophecy. The underlying grid of this rhetoric is fed continually by four distinct, though converging, lines of energy-Shakespeare, the King James Bible, Negro spirituals, and Harlem slang. The themes of his essays include abused childhood and street terrors, racial destiny and existential suffering, problems of identity and alienation, and moral and linguistic imperialism. These themes, to be sure, are About the Author: DW'shan Singh Maini, a Chandigarh-based writer, has been a professor of English at the Punjabi University in Patiala and a visiting professor at New York University.

common to nearly all writers of the Harlem Renaissance, but in Baldwin the issues become invested with a strange visionary force. Baldwin, the novelist, is often a conscious "Jamesian" in his prose, but Baldwin, the essayist, is more Orwellian in the final analysis. From James Baldwin to Martin Luther King, Jr., black American prose follows a path of spiritual and moral polemic which, in some hands, rises to a great song of sorrow in clear Biblical accents. But before I come to King I wish to salute some other talents that make up the matrix of this insightful anthology: Barbara Tuchman, for whom history was a creative art, and the historian an artist in his own domain (see page 39); Lewis Thomas, who writes on American science with such precision, wit, and eloquence; Doris Lessing, whose African-colonial background makes her a white crusager committed to human dignity and heroism; Russell Baker, an American humorist of pure vintage whose essay "The Flag" is a delicious and delicate satire reminiscent of Mark Twain; Richard Selzer, who in "The Pen and the Scalpel" (published in SPAN, July 1989) brings a surgeon's experience to bear upon the craft of writing; Edward Hoagland, who talks of the essay as a wild thing out of the jungle whose surface "generates sparks, like a cat of fur"; Joan Didion, who in the opinion of James Dickey is "the finest woman prose stylist writing in the English language today"; Joyce Carol Oates, who is emerging as America's voice of culture and keeper of conscience; Alice Walker, who at her best represents black feminine aesthetic in America in an idiom of great power; and Annie Dillard, whose essays rise above the din and dust of the native scene to claim her American heritage of respect for life, and for its evocation of the beautiful, the sacred, and the heroic. And, so finally, I come to King-"every inch a king" of poetry and pathos. His living classic, "I Have a Dream," is presented as an example of American prose on the peaks. A most moving and powerful piece, it was written as much out of the solar plexus as out of a politico-religious vision of austere beauty and elegance. Its


repetItIve spoken pattern, its haunting, evangelical rhythm, its urgency and eloquence, its visionary and striking new phrases, among many of its other virtues, help make a prose style that comes closest to being a stilus. The Greek word indicates the lapidary aspect of such a prose, for King uses his rhetoric as an instrument to cut the stones of experi-

ence to proper proportions. Even more powerful in some ways is his long and great "Letter from Birmingham City Jail" to the ever-pliable elders and betters of his church. To conclude, the essay's natural gaiety and inner economy account for its undiminished vitality. As the French word, essai, the Latin exagium, and the

English essay suggest, it is a genre that continually solicits effort and exertions and strivings. To try, to test, to dart forth, to light out-that, in sum, constitutes its being and becoming. The essay, then, is linked to the imagination on the prowl, turning over any small object, place, or person that may, with luck, yield a measure of music. 0

The Historian as Artist I would like to share some good news with you. I recently emotional and intellectual value to a wide public by the difficult came back from skiing at Aspen, where on one occasion I art of literature." Notice "wide public." Trevelyan always shared the double-chair ski lift with an advertising man from stressed writing for the general reader as opposed to writingjust Chicago. He told me he was in charge of all copy for his firm in for fellow scholars because he knew that when you write for the all media: TV, radio, and the printed word. On the strength of public you have to be clear and you have to be interesting and this he assured me-and I quote-that "Writing is coming these are the two criteria that make for good writing. He had no back. Books are coming back." I cannot tell you how pleased I patience with the idea that only imaginative writing is literature. Novels, he pointed out, if they are bad enough, are not was, a.nd I knew you would be too. literature, while even pamphlets, if they are good enough, and Now that we know that the future is safe for writing, I want he cites those of Milton, Swift, and Burke, are. to talk about a particular kind of writer-the HistorianThe "difficult art of literature" is well said. Trevelyan was a not just as historian but as artist; that is, as a creative writer on dirt farmer in that field and' he knew. I may as well admit now the same level as the poet or novelist. What follows will sound that I have always felt like an artist when I less immodest if you will take the word work on a book but I did not think I ought to "artist" in the way I think of it, not as a form Barbara Tuchman (1912-89) was of praise but as a category, like clerk or say so until someone else said it first (it's like once described' as "the most suclaborer or actor. waiting to be proposed to). Now that an cessful practicing historian in the occasional reviewer here and there has made Why is it generally assumed that in writing, United States." She wrote numerous the observation, I feel I can talk about it. I see the creative process is the exclusive property essays and 11 books, two of which of poets and novelists? I would like to suggest no reason why the word should always be Guns won her Pulitzer Prizes-The that the thought applied by the historian to of August (1963) and Stilwell confined to writers of fiction and poetry while his subject matter can be no less creative than and the American Experience in the rest of us are lumped together under that China (1972). the imagination applied by the novelist to despicable term "Nonfiction"-as if we were his. And when it comes to writing as an art, some sort of remainder. I do not feel like a is Gibbon necessarily less of an artist in Nonsomething; I feel quite specific. I wish I words than, let us say, Dickens? Or Winston could think of a name in place of "Nonfic[ion." In the hope of finding an antChurchill less so than William Faulkner or Sinclair Lewis? onym I looked up "Fiction" in Webster and George Macaulay Trevelyan, the late profound it defined as opposed to "Fact, Truth, fessor of modern history at Cambridge and and Reality." I thought for a while of adoptthe great champion of literary as opposed to ing FTR, standing for Fact, Truth, and Rescientific history, said in a famous essay on his ality, as my new term, but it is awkward to use. muse that ideally history should be the ex"Writers of Reality" is the nearest I can come position of facts about the past, "in their full to what I want, but I cannot very well call us "Realtors" because that has been preempted-although as a matter offact I would


like to. "Real Estate," when you come to think of it, is a very fine phrase and it is exactly the sphere that writers of nonfiction deal in: The real estate of man, of human conduct. I wish we could get it back from the dealers in land. Then the categories could be poets, novelists, and realtors. I should add that I do not entirely go along with Webster's statement that fiction is what is distinct from fact, truth, and reality because good fiction (as opposed to junk), even if it has nothing to do with fact, is usually founded on reality and perceives truth-often more truly than some historians. It is exactly this quality of perceiving truth, extracting it from irrelevant surroundings and conveying it to the reader or the viewer of a picture, that distinguishes the artist. What the artist has is an extra vision and an inner vision plus the ability to express it. He supplies a view or an understanding that the viewer or reader would not have gained without the aid of the artist's creative vision. This is what Monet does in one of those shimmering rivers reflecting poplars, or El Greco in the stormy sky over Toledo, or Jane Austen compressing a whole society into Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, Lady Catherine, and Mr. Darcy. We realtors, at least those of us who aspire to write literature, do the same thing. Lytton Strachey perceived a truth about Queen Victoria and the Eminent Victorians, and the style and form that he created to portray what he saw have changed the whole approach to biography since his time. Rachel Carson perceived truth about the seashore or the silent spring, Thoreau about Walden Pond, de Tocqueville and James Bryce about America, Gibbon about Rome, Karl Marx about Capital, Caryle about the French Revolution. Their work is based on study, observation, and accumulation of fact, but does anyone suppose that these realtors did not make use of their imagination? Certainly they did; that is what gave them their extra vision. Trevelyan wrote that the best historian was he who combined knowledge of the evidence with "the largest intellect, the warmest human sympathy, and the highest imaginative powers." The last two qualities are no different than those necessary to a great novelist. They are a necessary part of the historian's equipment because they are what enable him to understand the evidence he has accumulated. Imagination stretches the available facts--extrapolates from them, so to speak, thus often supplying an otherwise missing answer to the "Why" of what happened. Sympathy is essential to the understanding of motive. Without sympathy and imagina tion the historian can copy figures from a tax roll

forever-or count them by computer as they do nowadaysbut he will never know or be able to portray the people who paid the taxes. When I say that r felt like an artist, I mean that I constantly found myself perceiving a historical truth (at least, what I believe to be truth) by seizing UpOD.a suggestion; then, after careful gathering of the evidence, conveying it in turn to the reader, not by piling up a list of all the facts r have collected, which is the way of the PhD, but by exercising the artist's privilege of selection. Actually the idea for The Proud Tower evolved in that way from a number of such perceptions. The initial impulse was a line I quoted in The Guns of August from Belgian Socialist poet Emile Verhaeren. After a lifetime as a pacifist dedicated to the social and humanitarian ideas which were then believed to erase national lines, he found himself filled with hatred of the German invader and disillusioned in all he had formerly believed in. And yet, as he wrote, "Since it seems to me that in this state of hatred my conscience becomes diminished, I dedicate these pages, with emotion, to the man r used to be." I was deeply moved by this. His confession seemed to me so poignant, so evocative ofa time and mood, that it decided me to try to retrieve that vanished era. It led to the last chapter in The Proud Tower on the Socialists, to Jaures as the authentic Socialist, to his prophetic lines, "I summon the living, I mourn the dead," and to his assassination as the perfect and dramatically right ending for the book, both chronologically and symbolically. Then there was Lord Ribblesdale. r owe this to American Heritage, which back in October 1961 published a piece


on Sargent and Whistler with a handsome reproduction of the Ribblesdale portrait. In Sargent's painting Ribblesdale stared out upon the world, as I later wrote in The Proud Tower, "in an attitude of such natural arrogance, elegance and self-confidence as no man of a later day would ever achieve." Here too was a vanished era which came together in my mind with Verhaeren's line, "the man I used to be"-like two globules of mercury making a single mass. From that came the idea for the book. Ribblesdale, of course, was the suggestion that ultimately became the opening chapter on the Patricians. This is the reward of the artist's eye: It always leads you to the right thing. As I see it, there are three parts to the creative process: First, the extra vision with which the artist perceives a truth and conveys it by suggestion. Second, medium of expression: Language for writers, paint for painters, clay or stone for sculptors, sound expressed in musical notes for composers. Third, design or structure. When it comes to language, nothing is more satisfying than to write a good sentence. It is no fun to write lumpishly, dully, in prose the reader must plod through like wet sand. But it is a pleasure to achieve, if one can, a clear running prose that is simple yet full of surprises. This does not just happen. It requires skill, hard work, a good ear, and continued practice, as much as it takes Heifetz to play the violin. The goals, as I have said, are clarity, interest, and aesthetic pleasure. On the first of these I would like to quote Macaulay, a great historian and great writer, who once wrote to a friend, "How little the all important art of making meaning pellucid is studied now! Hardly any popular writer except myself thinks of it." As to structure, my own form is narrative, which is not every historian's, I may say-indeed, it is rather looked down on now by the advanced academics, but I don't mind because no one could possibly persuade me that telling a story is not the most desirable thing a writer can do. Narrative history is neither as simple nor as straightforward as it might seem. It requires arrangement, composition, planning just like a paintingRembrandt's Night Watch, for example. He did not fit in all those figures with certain ones in the foreground and others in back and the light falling on them just so, without much trial and error and innumerable preliminary sketches. It is the same with writing history. Although the finished result may look to the reader natural and inevitable, as if the author had only to follow the sequence of events, it is not that easy. Sometimes, to catch attention, the crucial event and the causative circumstances have to be reversed in order-the event first and the cause afterward, as in The Zimmermann Telegram. One must juggle with time. In The Proud Tower, for instance, the two English chapters were originally conceived as one. I divided them and placed them well apart in order to give a feeling of progression, of forward chronological movement to the book. The story of the Anarchists with their ideas and deeds set in counterpoint to each other was a problem in arrangement. The middle section

of the Hague chapter on the Paris Exposition of 1900 was originally planned as a separate short centerpiece, marking the turn of the century, until I saw it as a bridge linking the two Hague Conferences, where it now seems to belong. Structure is chiefly a problem of selection, an agonizing business because there is always more material than one can use or fit into a story. The problem is how and what to select out of all that happened without, by the very process of selection, giving an over- or under-emphasis which violates truth. One cannot put in everything: The result would be a shapeless mass. The job is to achieve a narrative line without straying from the essential facts or leaving out any essential facts and without twisting the material to suit one's convenience. To do so is a temptation, but if you do it with history you invariably get tripped up by later events. I have been tempted once or twice and I know. The most difficult task of selection I had was in the Dreyfus chapter. To try to skip over the facts about the bordereau and the handwriting and the forgeries-all the elements of the Case as distinct from the Affair-in order to focus instead on what happened to France and yet at the same time give the reader enough background information to enable him to understand what was going on, nearly drove me to despair. My writing slowed down to a trickle until one dreadful day when I went to my study at nine and stayed there all day in a blank coma until five, when I emerged without having written a single word. Anyone who is a writer will know how frightening that was. You feel you have come to the end of your powers; you will not finish the book; you may never write again. There are other problems of structure peculiar to writing history: How to explain background and yet keep the story moving; how to create suspense and sustain interest in a narrative of which the outcome (like who won the war) is, to put it mildly, known. If anyone thinks this does not take creative writing, I can only say, try it. Mr. Capote's In Cold Blood, for example, which deals with real life as does mine, is notable for conscious design. One can see him planning, arranging, composing his material until he achieves his perfectly balanced structure. That is art, although the hand is too obtrusive and the design too contrived to qualify as history. His method of investigation, moreover, is hardly so new as he thinks. He is merely applying to contemporary material what historians have been doing for years. Herodotus started it more than 2,000 years ago, walking all over Asia Minor asking questions. Francis Parkman went to live among the [American] Indians: Hunted, traveled, and ate with them so that his pages would be steeped in understanding; E.A. Freeman, before he wrote The Norman Conquest, visited every spot the Conqueror had set foot on. New to these techniques, Mr. Capote is perhaps naively impressed by them. He uses them in a deliberate effort to raise what might be called "creative" journalism to the level of literature. A great company from . Herodotus to Trevelyan have been doing the same with history for quite some time. 0


A Scientilic

Connection An Interview With PETER HEYDEMANN

Dr. Peter Heydemann has been Counselor for Scientific and Technological Affairs at the American Embassy in New Delhi for the past three-and-a-half years. He was born in Germany in 1928 and immigrated to the United States in 1964. armed with a PhD in physics from the University of Gorringen. He lrent to work for the U.S. National Bureau of Standards (NBS) in Gaithersburg, Maryland, developing physical standards for the measurement of the very high pressures used in such industrial processes as making diamonds. In the early 1970s Heydemann became involved in an N BS collaboration in high pressure research with the Indian Institute of Science and the National Aeronautical Laboratory, hoth in Bangalore. He spent a couple of months in Bangalore teaching a course on pressure and vacuum measurements. While there. he alsofound time to develop the mathematical concept for an entirely nell' manometer, an instrument that measures the pressure of gases. When he returned to NBS he built the world's most accurate manometer, a copy of which is 'installed at the National Physical Laboratory in Delhi. Over the years Heydemann took on positions of increasing responsibility at N BS, and was serving as Deputy Director for Industrial Technology Services and overseeing a budget of $350 million 'I'hen he requested a leave of absence to take the embassy science office post. "I really got hooked on India when lfirst came here, so impressed was I with its distinguished history, archaeology, art, and its people," he says. "Unfortunately, as it has turned out, since I came to Delhi I haven't had much time to study these subjects." Heydemann has found time to lvrite a guide to Delhi's monuments, which he gives to friends and visitors, but, as the following interview indicates. affairs of science dominate his attention.

QUESTION: Political, economic, and consular affairs come quickly to mind when one thinks of the work of an embassy. What does a science office do? PETER HEYDEMANN: A typical science office is charged with two things: One, to keep itself informed about scientific affairs in the host country. Who are the major players? Who develops policy? What are the priorities of the host government? What new technical developments are taking place in government, in industry? The other side of that coin is to present U.S. government policy issues and to persuade the host government to perhaps support our views on various matters-and they cover a wide range-of mutual concern. Currently, for instance, we are seeking the Indian government's support for our position on the problem of drift net fishing, an issue tabled by the United States at the United Nations. Other such issues would be climate change and ozone depletion. But the science office here, which is the largest American Embassy science office anywhere in the world, has an additional

and very large charge-to administer an ex tensive program of scien ti fic colla borations between Indian and American scientists. This is the largest formal collaborative science and technology program that the United States has anywhere. These collaborations started in the I. Dr. Peter Heydemann. science counselor. 2. M.L. Saxena, senior health sciences specialist. 3. Dr. David L. Madden, science attache. 4. Peter A. O'Donohue, science officer. 5. S.K. DUll, senior science specialist. 6. Anu Soni, secretary. 7. Radha Mani, secretary. 8. Renu Kaul, scientific affairs specialist. 9. Kari Masengale, science officer. 10. Alice Pandya, scientific affairs assistant. Ii. Kiran Dhawan, scientific affairs assistant. 12. Jairaj Ambrose, secretary. 13. Lakshmi Kinger, scientific affairs assistant. 14. Sundari Kumar. secretary. 15. Ramona Maximillian, foreign service secretary. (Not in photo: Seetha Ramachandran, data base manager, and V.V. Nanda, senior science specialist.)


early I960s-first in medical and life sciences, then in agriculture. The United States assisted in setting up the Indian agricultural universities. We also cooperated in the establishment of the Indian Institute of Technology at Kanpur. Then there was a major program in TV instruction for remote areas in India, SITE, with the help of an American satellite. This was the forerunner of INSA T, India's own multipurpose communications satellite that now beams TV programs all over the country. Over the years, this program of scientific collaborations branched out wider and wider, and today we are involved in several hundred projects in various stages of planning and implementation. These projects cover an enormously broad range of disciplines. We administer, review, aid, and facilitate these projects for the participating American agencies and universities. This involves handling about 1,000 visitors from the United States each year and, in a good year, sending some 300 to 400 Indians to the United States. We spend around 12 million dollars on these collaborations each year. One-third of this goes to projects in culture and education, and two-thirds to science and technology. What is the source of this funding? In 1987 the U.S. government scooped up all of the leftover PL-480 rupee funds. We put these into interest bearing accounts in banks here in India and, with the approval of the U.S. Congress, made an agreement with the Government of India to establish the United States-India Fund (USIF). We began with 110 million dollars worth of rupees, and it was agreed with the Indian government that we would spend all of this money, capital and interest, on collaborative projects over a ten-year period, ending in February 1997. Is there any difference between these projects and the Science and Technology Initiative that was signed by President Ronald Reagan and Prime Minister Indira Gandhi during her visit to the United States in 1982? Well, there are a number of agreements between India and the United States on scientific collaborations. The oldest one was the work using PL-480 funds. In

parallel with this we had the ReaganGandhi Science and Technology Initiative, which was really formed to give this program a greater political visibility. It was important but never a very large program. Currently we have maybe five or six projects under that program compared to 400 under the United StatesIndia Fund. Another very important project is the Vaccine Action Program between the U.S. Public Health Service and the Indian Ministry of Health. It is aimed at developing vaccines and treatment methodology for endemic diseases in India. We don't have very many cases of thes~ diseases in the United States, in fact so few cases that it is impossible to run a research and development program with them. But a great number of Americans-tourists, students, military, and embassy personnel-are exposed to malaria, kala-azar, and other diseases when they travel overseas. So we have a great deal of interest in this field. We also have a number of memoranda of understanding on various other scientific collaborations. How is progress monitored and effectiveness determined? This is one of the major things that we involve ourselves in. We visit these projects as often as possible to assess the' progress and to determine whether there are any administrative or technical problems that we can help with. Then we have various working groups, workshops, and conferences to evaluate progress. We also keep tabs on the accomplishments of each project-for example, number of papers written in learned journals, PhDs earned, MScs earned, and so forth. Let me add here that one of the things that we pay a great deal of attention to is to help establish capabilities and facilities in India that will endure long after this program has ceased to exist. One prime example is the Wildlife Institute of India in Dehradun, which the Fish and Wildlife Service of the U.S. Department of the Interior and 'the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID) are helping to develop with assistance from our science office. This is a long-term,

fairly large program financed by U.S.India Fund and USAID funds. All of the faculty of this new institution in Dehradun are trained either by American teachers here or in the United States directly. We have also extended expertise to the institute in setting up a teaching syllabus, a long-term plan of how to educate their teachers, and what kind of courses will then be given to Indian officials dealing with wildlife who will all have to go through the Wildlife Institute of India. The Indian Ministry for Environment and Forests believes this is a perfect example of the sort of institutes that India needs. The Wildlife Institute clearly will remain here and be very active and productive long after we have left. But it will continue to have the benefit of many personal contacts between Indian and U.S. scientists that are being set up now as the program is developing. Another major accomplishment is the program that we have with the Ministry of Family Welfare for people with physical handicaps at the village levelevaluating their needs, sending them to a district-level hospital that has a unit dedicated to people with handicaps. They are helped, for example, with implants, artificiallimbs, eye glasses, and hearing aids. This service is now available at the district level. The districts get their technical information assistance from a central unit that we have helped set up in Delhi where all of the technical information is available from the United States, Britain, Italy, and other places. Any case, however difficult, that comes to the district level can be dealt with here at the center in Delhi. We started this in two districts. The Government of India has now decided to expand the program to 100 districts and take over the funding. Eventually this will span the entire country. This program too will stay long after we have left, but I am confident that the contacts between the center and the U.S. National Institute of Disability and Rehabilitation Research, which is very actively involved in this program, will last for many years. We also extended assistance in setting up a job development center where handi-


capped people are trained in whatever job they can do-from computer programming, or just entering data into a computer, to stitching dresses, printing postcards, books, whatever-so they can lead independent, productive lives. How do you identify what projects to support? We really like to leave the initiative to the scientists themselves, either American or Indian scientists. I don't believe in top down planning for scientific activity. We have seen that it doesn't work very well. So, all we can do is perhaps encourage scientists from leading Indian institutions to think about working with their American counterparts on specific projects. Once it is decided to do so, then we do everything we can to facilitate and help write the project proposal. There are areas of great importance to the U.S. government-environment, climate change, ozone depletion, for example. I, or my colleagues, David Madden or Peter O'Donohue, may go to the appropriate Indian institutions to suggest institutions in the United States that are working in these fields with which they could collaborate, but we don't prescribe specific projects. Could some of these bilateral projects lead to the development of useful products or processes? Many of the projects-in physics, chemistry, and engineering-{;ould, in principle, lead to commercial projects. We try to avoid this as much as we can, because if we come up with a commercially viable invention from one of our projects, we couldn't' protect the intellectual property rights of this invention here in India. Therefore this program, from its inception, has tried to avoid all possibilities of developing commercially viable information. That, I think, is a great disadvantage for us, and for India also. But it can't be changed until we have an agreement on how to protect intellectual property rights for inventions coming out of these research projects. One big problem that India faces is in the area of population control. Is there any bilateral research in reproductive biology? Yes. In fact,. we recently had a work-

shop on reproductive physiology at the National Institute of Immunology (NIl) in New Delhi in coordination with the U.S. National Institutes of Health. Our goal-not just in this workshop but in our general collaboration-is to develop a drug that could provide immunization against conception. There is already an experimental drug that Dr. G.P. Talwar-he is a former NIl director and now is Professor of Eminence-has developed and that is undergoing clinical trials. That is part of the program dedicated to population control. The scientific basis is being strengthened, but there has to be a political will to do something about this enormous population growth. Is your office involved in coIlaborations between the two countries in space technology research? Yes, we are. In fact we are just beginning to discuss In'dian participation in the program involving a large new American remote sensing platform. The upper atmosphere research satellite is a part of this program. Over the next ten years we will launch a dozen or more satellites of various types-some purely American and some in collaboration with various European countries and Japan-all directed at remote sensing of the atmosphere and stratosphere. We want to talk with the Government of India about their participation in this program which would give them access to the data from these various satellites. We would, of course, expect the Indian scientists to analyze this data and to share the results with us. About three or four years ago there was talk of India participating in an American program to build the world's largest supercollider in Texas. It was billed as the largest and most ambitious pure science project aimed at understanding what our universe was like microseconds after it was born. What is the status of that project? India very early made a commitment and said that they would contribute $50 million-not in cash, but in kind-to this supercollider project. We have been discussing this with Dr. P.K. Iyengar, chairman of the Indian Atomic Energy Commission, quite frequently. He is an

old friend of mine because we were cochairmen of the Indo-U.S. working group for physical and materials science for ten years or so. So we have worked quite closely on this to define clearly what is it that India can contribute. It is still very early because plans for the supercollider are yet in the initial stages, but we already have a team of Indian scientists at the laboratories and offices in Texas. The major Indian contributions will probably be in particle detectors. Tell us a little bit about the nature and extent of your relations with the Indian scientific community. Also about the state of science training and research here. I first visited India in 1971, and since then I have returned two-three times a year and have worked with various institutions here. There are few leading scientists in India whom I don't know personally. And that was a great help when I arrived in 1988 to assume my duties. It is very fortunate for me that I am known-and treated-in India as a scientist, not just a government official. About the second part of your question, I will emphatically say that I am very bullish on Indian workers-scientists as well as others. Let me start with my own office. I rave 12Indians working for me on my staff, and they all are excellent. I have rarely had a better staff than these 12, and they range from a clerk to a nuclear scientist. They are highly motivated, very well trained. I find the Indian scientists that I know, that I meet, well educated, highly motivated. But these scientists cannot produce anything or do any original work if they don't have the freedom and facilities. That is unfortunately one of the two problems of the Indian science establishment that I see. The Indian government has concentrated all of its research in government laboratories, the Council of Scientific and Industrial Research laboratories, the mission agency laboratories, and in a few centrally funded universities, such as the I1Ts. A number of universities have very little research, and their teaching suffers from that. On the other hand, institutions like the Indian Institute of Science in Bangalore and the IITs produce absolutely outstanding sci-


Our projects have been in operation for 30 years now, and they have touched upon the lives of many people.

entists. Sometimes one is just flabbergasted at how good these kids are. But they are a very small top layer of the enormous mass of people that lives in the country. A large part of that top layer goes out of India. Yes. That is not surprising. A few years ago we looked at the statistics of graduate students from the lIT in Madras who went to the United States and stayed there. We found there were two overwhelming reasons why they stayed back in the United States. One is that her!? in India they encounter very strict hierarchies, and as they enter a hierarchy they start at the bottom and they can calculate where they will be, say, after 25 years. There is almost no possibility to move up faster by merit, which is something that in the United States is almost guaranteed. The other problem is that these young scientists and engineers are not given much responsibility when they join the hierarchy. They have to work under some body's close direction. They are not given an independent task in which they can succeed or fail. There is no challenge. In the American system there is; as an immigrant I know that well. I left Germany for the same reasons. In the United States you move up by merit and you are always given a chance. If you don't succeed, of course, you don't move up. There is yet another reason: There are not many jobs for them to come back to. Now this may change, if the second problem that I see with Indian science changes-that is the almost complete dichotomy between the Indian research establishment and Indian industry. Many Indian scientists work on problems of academic interest. Few work on new industrial products and processes. That is one reason why the rate of innovation in Indian industry is so low.

Indian industries don't have to do any research and development because their markets are protected. India is not going to make any progress on world markets until that situation is changed by exposing Indian industry to world market competition. Then, if Indian industry makes the right moves, they will open R&D laboratories that will want to develop their own new technologies. For that they wil1 need all of these Indian engineers and scientists that are now getting their training elsewhere. That's when the entrepreneur, the Indian scientist overseas, can come and say, "Hey, I can compete with this. I have a new idea." . In the United States the small entrepreneurial companies, per dollar invested, produce more export, more jobs, and more tax base than the large mature companies. These days the big companies expand their technology base by buying up thes.e small companies. That is unlikely to happen in India until there is an open industrial society with full competition. The Government ofIndia is realizing that and its recent economic reforms and new policy initiatives offer hope for the future. You said earlier that the source of funding for these bilateral projects is the U.S.India Fund, which is going to ~nd in 1997. Will that mean the end of scientific collaboration between our two countries? When the rupee fund comes to an end, we know that we won't be able to maintain the same level of collaboration that we now have. Since our countries are more than 10,000 kilometers apart, we need a lot of travel support and this is what we are mostly doing with the U.S.India Fund. The projects that we are combining are largely funded already by the American and the Indian governments. All we are doing is providing some additional funds to mostly bring people together. When funds run out it's quite obvious that we won't be able to handle all these close collaborations. So we will need to look for other funding sources. I think that some of these collaborations, particularly those that quite directly support the American agency mission objectives in the areas of environment, biodiversity, cultural and religious her-

itage sites, etc., will continue. For other subjects we will have to look for new sources of funding. Could you tell us something more about the professionals on your staff! Our office has three divisions. The Life Sciences and Medical Services division is headed by Dr. David Madden, the science attache. He is actually paid by the U.S. Public Health Service for his work here. He works long, long days and weekends; he is indefatigable. The Ecology and Environment division is headed by Peter O'Donohue, our science officer, a very capable and dedicated State Department officer. I technically head the Physical and Materials Science division, but for all practical purposes it is my Indian colleague, S.K. Dutt, who runs that business. Vikram Nanda is the top Indian in Ecology and Environment, and M.L. Saxena is our expert in Life Sciences and Medical Services. All three Indians have been with us for a long time. They know the programs, they know everybody on the Indian and American scenes inside out. Without these fine persons these programs wouldn't have worked as well as they did. How would you sum up the present partnership between the United States and India in science and technology? I think there is one angle that I should mention. Many, many of our projects have been in operation for 30 years now, and they have touched upon the lives of many people. A very large number of people-some of them now senior science administrators in India-were collaborators on our projects at one time or another. We have, directly or indirectly, influenced lots of government officials, opinion leaders, professors, writers, journalists, and the public in general. Therefore, this program of bilateral scientific collaboration is widely recognized and has developed a political weight of its own. Several Indian Prime MinistersIndira Gandhi and Rajiv Gandhi-and American Presidents-Ronald Reagan and George Bush-have confirmed this. They have pointed out that these scientific collaborations between India and the United States are a basis for our political relations. D


Cave Conservation An Indo-U.S. project aims not only to give a face-lift to the Ajanta and Ellora caves but also to preserve their sanctity.

ELLORA Top and above: The current entrance to the Kailash Temple and the entrance as proposed by the U.S. National Park Service team. Above right: The plan for the area around the caves has been designed to enhance their appeal and tourism potential.

Left: P.N. Kamble (right), the superintending archaeologist of the Archaeological Survey of India, discusses the project with Barbara Goodman (left) and Milford Fletcher of the U.S. National Park Service.


VI

e stepped into the sculpted shadows of the Ajanta caves and waited for our eyes to adjust to the darkness. And then there was light-from the colored minerals crushed and painted into thejatakas (scenes from the life of Buddha). Our imaginations filled in the missing limbs and expressions and picked up the petals fallen from centuries-old lotus blossoms. But the work that had brought us to the ancient caves at the villages of Ajanta and Ellora in Aurangabad, Maharashtra, required more down-to-earth imagination. With their designation as World Heritage Sites, the responsibility of conserving the two monuments now lies with the 115 member nations of the United Nations World Heritage Convention. We were part of a team from the U.S. National Park Service (NPS), which is collaborating with the Indian government on a conservation and tourism enhancement plan for the caves. The seven-member team, which was visiting the caves to conduct a site survey preparatory to developing a detailed proposal, comprised team leader Barbara Goodman, Milford Fletcher, Hal Spencer, Don Neubacher, and architects Jane Ruchman and Paul Cloyd. I had come from New Delhi, where I had been working in conservation

AJANTA Left and above: The entrance to one of the Buddhist caves (left) and a close-up (above) of some of the images at the face of the cave. Right: The land use proposal pnvisages extensive regeneration of natural resources to restore the original ecological balance of the area. Right below: A visitor's first view of the Ajanta caves is this horseshoeshaped gorge, which houses 29 Buddhist


C'ave"Conservation through a fellowship from the professional studies prQgram of the University of California in Berkeley. Also from New Delhi were Science Officer Peter O'Donohue and (Indian) Science Specialist Alice Pandya of the science office of the U.S. Embassy. The embassy science office in India administers and assists Indo-U.S. scientific collaborations under the U.S.-India Fund (see story on page 42). In addition to performing the diplomatic footwork that brings together U.S. and Indian agencies such as NPS and the Ministry of Tourism to develop joint projects, they handle the logistics of team visits such as ours. They also visit sites to contribute their insights and local expertise. O'Donohue explained the aim of the project-"to create living history, to bring alive the experience and significance of the ancient sites." Seeing the centuriesold treasured heritage inside the caves is an unforgettable experience-one that deserves to be savored. Which is why it was sad to see tourists rushing in and out, scarcely pausing tb contemplate the wonders before them. Ellora caves surprised us; I suppose they do that to every first-time visitor. We were driving along-and suddenly there they were. The rock face abruptly curves back from the road at this point to expose the adorned facades of the chaityas (meeting halls) and the sculpted columns of the viharas (monasteries). Our first glimpse of the Kailash Temple was perfectly timed-the sun was just setting. The temple is hewn out of solid basalt. The next day we drove north to the Ajanta caves. The bare landscape suddenly ended, leaving us at the edge of a precipice overlooking a horseshoe-shaped gorge containing the community of29 Buddhist caves to which the monks once retreated from the monsoons. Like the British officers who rediscovered the caves

in 1819, we took the trail down from this viewpoint, going across the dry river bed to the caves. It was with a sense of awe that we explored the caves, each carved from solid volcanic rock. Inside every chaitya our first glimpse would be of the Buddha, wrapped in a cocoon of darkness. The surrounding space is shaped like a Roman basilica, with colthe sanctuary umns separating from a side aisle. We walked through the columns, our minds imagining the scenes that must have occurred here centuries earlier. (The oldest caves probably date from the 1st century A.D.) We were not here on a sightseeing trip, so we got down to work. The high-powered Indian team had done the groundwork for us. Dev Mehta, managing director of Maharashtra Tourism Development Corporation (MTDC), had got the Ministry of Tourism and Tata Consultancy Services (TCS) to prepare a preliminary report, which included a survey of tourism, transportation, and environmental issues, as well as a plan for the development of visitor facilities. MTDC had already begun to act on this plan and has purchased about 253 hectares of land around Ajanta. P.N. Kamble, the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) superintending archaeologist, underlined the necessity of viewing the project from a cultural angle, keeping the Indian ethos and sentiments in mind. "If we introduce modernization, the sanctity of the monuments will be lost," said Kamble, expressing the deeply held view that insofar as possible, sites and monuments should be allowed to reflect their original purpose. A site that was created by a religious impulse, for example, should have as much as possible of its religious "mystique" preserved intact. NPS shares this philosophy and its recommendations for any site include suggestions on how the integrity of a monument can

COnl;nued

be preserved. At the same time planners seek to develop a site plan that will include minor landscaping touches, which both bring back to life the original "feel" of the surrounding grounds and provide an educational experience for the tourist. Since tourists must be accommodated, planners try to find ways to tuck visitors' centers, parking lots, restaurants, and shops out of sight and hearing of the monuments themselves. Instructive signs are designed to blend in with the landscape and provide useful information about the cultural, historical, and religious significance of a site. Don Neubacher felt that most visitors did not gain an understanding of the significance of the carved forms in the caves. Neubacher-who has developed methods for such understanding of monuments in the United States-faces the challenge of getting the message across to an Indian audience steeped in the myths and histories of the sites. Jane Ruchman and Paul Cloyd walked almost every inch of the sites, exploring deep into the caves. Dismayed at the brief'time most tourists spend inside the caves, they studied the potential for pedestrian movement through and around the caves in a manner that wOilld give visitors optimum exposure to the caves. Hal Spencer worked on the support system-hotels and restaurants. At present there is one restaurant and a cluster of hawkers. Spencer envisages a development site with a hotel and an array of visitor facilities. After our explorations of the caves, we flew to New Delhi to crystallize our concepts and put them in the form ofa comprehensive report. The consensus was that conservation of the caves' cultural resources has to take precedence over everything else. the This means arresting deterioration of the paintings at Ajanta and using infrared and

ultraviolet photography for documentation, among many other measures. In the centuries since the caves were excavated, tree cutting and massive erosion have dramatically altered the local landscape. To restore some of the aura of the original site, consideration is being given to planting a deciduous forest around the caves that will include teak and other indigenous species that once graced the area. The proposed forest will have no commercial value but will do much to restore the original ecological balance of the site. Some trees growing directly above the caves, whose roots the rock and have penetrated permitted water to enter and damage the paintings, need to be removed. To enhance the visitors' experience of the caves, paths for walkthroughs will be constructed, including a footbridge over the Wagura River. The plan also envisages parking lots, a visitors' center, a museum, and archives in unobtrusive settings that do not interfere with the sanctity of the monument. .The presentation of the NPS proposal at a meeting in New . Delhi drew, among others, M.C. Joshi, director general of the Archaeological Survey of India; Yogesh Chandra, director general in the Ministry of Tourism; Edgar Ribeiro, director of New Delhi's School of Planning and Architecture; and Dev Mehta. This marked stage one of what promises to be an interesting cooperative venture. Various Indian organizations will now study the proposals in detail and do the necessary follow-up studies, Indian experts will visit NPS sites in the United States, and a blue ribbon panel of Indian and American professionals will review and approve the final plan. And then it will be time to give the caves the face-lift they need and deserve. 0



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