Showing posts with label J. K. Bajaj. Show all posts
Showing posts with label J. K. Bajaj. Show all posts

THE RESPONSIBILITY OF THE SCIENTIFIC COMMUNITY

Less than two weeks after the tragic night when the gases from the pesticide plant at Bhopal had leaked to kill over two thousand people, journalists sitting in a club, close to the factory, found the place swarming with flies and mosquitoes. When asked the secret of their survival, white fresh cases of human poisoning were still being reported, the Chief Minister of Madhya Pradesh replied, "It might take months' of scientific study to find an answer". The incident is symbolic of the prevalent faith in the science and technology of today. Consider the case: A high technology plant storing, utilizing and producing extremely' dangerous materials are set up in the heart of a populous old city, with the scientific promise that" the products of the plant shall kill pests and insects to save men from disease and hunger. The technology fails. The toxic gases leak. And, ironically men die, while mosquitoes and flies seem to be flourishing. Faced with the situation the representative of the people not only refers the matter back to the scientists and technologists, but also gives them unlimited time to find out why they failed so tragically. Notwithstanding the much talked about lack of a scientific temper in the people of India, the faith of a nation in the modern science and technology could perhaps never be any stronger.

In fact, those who found themselves responsible for the building up o£ independent India chose science and technology as the medium through which to approach their task. Consequently, we have generated a large science and technology (S&T) community, the third largest in the world. This community, and the huge scientific, technological and industrial establishment that comes with it have been paid for from the scarce resources of India, they form India's investment in modernity. The builders of India have reposed faith in this community with the hope that the S&T community of India shall bring to us the best fruits of modern S&T arid at the same time sufficiently domesticate this S&T to competently save us from all its inherent dangers.

It is true that the people of India do not understand much of what the modern scientists and technologists do, and how they do it. But that is not because of any special lack of the scientific temper in the Indian people. Not many people anywhere in the world understand the scientific jargon, much less the logic and intricacies of modern S&T. The people of India, of course, do not even understand the language of modern S&T. Like modern law, modern medicine, and modern education etc., modern S&T is also conducted in English, a language alien to most of our people. That the builders of India should repose implicit faith in a community whose ways and methods, and even whose language, the people of India do not understand, may be very unwise. It may be especially unwise for those who represent a people like the Indians, a people who till recently did not even accept the Gods unless they came and lived with them, spoke and behaved like them, and accepted all their norms and limitations. The representatives of such a people have perhaps unwisely put their faith in the S&T community. But that is a separate question.

Whether wisely or unwisely modern India has put its faith in modern S&T. And this puts a great responsibility on the S&T community of India. The important question that arises in the context of the Bhopal tragedy is: Has the S&T community become competent enough to fulfill its responsibility? Has it behaved honorably and responsibly in the face of the faith that has been reposed in it? Now that sufficient time has elapsed since the Bhopal tragedy it is possible to take a judicious view of the role and behavior of the S&T community in this crisis. From the available information, it has to be sadly concluded that the S&T community of India has failed in its responsibilities. Its failures have been multiple. In fact, it seems that both the profession of science and the faith reposed in the Indian S&T community have been betrayed.

The first thing that became obvious with the fatal leak was the total ignorance of the Indian scientists and technologists about what is happening in many of the high technology establishments of the country. Once the leak started, none of the highly trained Indian engineers and technicians in the plant seemed to know what to do about it; the gases simply exhausted themselves. The larger S&T community did not know how much of what was being produced in the plant. If what came out of the plant was only methyl-iso-cyanate (MIC) as the plant personnel insisted, the community did not know what the chemistry of this substance was, what were its toxic effects, what were possible antidotes, and what were the ways to neutralize the toxic substance? All this ignorance was eventually admitted' on behalf of the community: It is possible that some of these admissions of ignorance were made in order to minims the responsibility for the tragedy and to make it look like a natural disaster. However, it became obvious from, the events that followed that the Indian scientists and technologists did not really know much about the ways to deal with the substances that were being used and produced in the Bhopal plants.

The essence of being scientific, as every school text teaches, is in being keenly observant of one's surroundings. A specialized scientific community that is so totally unaware of even the major technological activities in its surroundings betrays both the profession of science and the nation that has given it the mandate to be scientific on its behalf. If Bhopal were an isolated instance of the ignorance of the S&T community that may not have mattered much. But there is absolutely no reason to believe that there are not elsewhere in the country plants with equally dangerous potential, about which the Indian S&T community is similarly ignorant.

While this ignorance of the community can be condoned as an act of omission, what happened next did not have even that saving grace, immediately after the leak, various segments of the S&T community openly engaged in suppressing information, spreading misinformation, and sometimes even telling deliberate lies. This game started with the engineers of the Union Carbide plant at Bhopal. On the fateful night of December 2/3 while people of Bhopal were dying in large numbers, senior engineers of the plant were simply denying that anything at all had leaked from their plant. At 1.45 a.m. that night J. Mukund, the Works Manager, told the Additional District Magistrate, "The gas leak just can't be from my plant. Our technology just can't go wrong." In the morning Dr. L. D. Lova of the plant was' telling tried doctors and journalists around that the gas that leaked was only an irritant, which was neither fatal nor lethal.

As we know these statements by the technical and medical staff of the Company were deliberate lies. The Works Manager could not have been unaware of the possibility of a leak, because earlier his technology had indeed failed and his plant had leaked many times. Similarly, though the rest of the S&T community in India may have been ignorant of the toxic effects of MIC, the Company personnel had access to the Company manuals that informed the employees of the hazards of the chemicals used in the plant. Therefore Dr. Lova, the Company doctor, while passing MC off as a benign material, could not have been unaware of its hazards. True that these lies were told by the employees of a multinational plant. But while justly blaming the multinationals for their greed and callousness towards life in the developing countries we must remember that Mukund and Lova are Indian scientists. They are part of the third largest scientific manpower in the world that we are proud of.

The Company personnel were not the only scientists and technologists who lied and suppressed information. Teams of independent government scientists and a CSIR (Council of Scientific and Industrial Research) team headed by the Director General of CSIR, Dr,Varadarajan, reached Bhopal in the immediate wake of the disaster. And immediately a campaign to suppress all information on the tragedy was begun, The veil of secrecy that the scientists, hand in hand with other bureaucrats, imposed was so thick' and so blatant that on December 5, the Additional Director General of Indian Meteorological Department (IMD) Dr.S. Sircar, refused to give information on the wind speed, humidity [and temperature conditions in Bhopal on the tragic night because a judicial enquirer was on. When reminded that IMD was a service organization, Dr. Sircar emphatically declared that IMD was not a service organization, and the information would not be given. In fact, it seems the scientists actually started enjoying their new found sense of power. Thus on December 15, Dr. Varadarajan took some journalists around)the plant after prior warning that anybody straying from the charted path in the plant shall be arrested and he personally grappled with a cameraman who tried to go near the tank that had leaked.

In addition to suppressing information there was continuous misinformation emanating from scientific and technical experts. Within a couple of days of the leak the experts started announcing that the air that the people were breathing was absolutely safe, that there was no trace of any toxic material anywhere. A little later Dr. Bhandari, Superintendent of the Hamidia Hospital, was asserting that there were no long-term effects of the gas on the specious observation that the patients his hospital had treated were not returning with any new complications. By December 10, a WHO expert, sent on the request of Government of India, joined Indian medical experts in asserting that there would be no long-term effects of the gas on the kidneys and livers of the victims, that there would be no damage to pregnant women or the for issues they were carrying, that survivors will suffer only minor eye and respiratory problems.

It is clear now that all these statements and many others emanating from eminent scientists were all false. On the second day of the accident no tests could have shown the air of Bhopal to be free from all toxicity and the long-term effects of the gas could not have been predicted within a week of the exposure. In any case, fresh cases of poisoning were being reported till December 24 and previously treated cases with greater complications were returning to the Hamidia Hospital in large numbers.

Ironically, while scientists were telling the public about the absence of all long-term effects, they were also cornering large amounts of public funds to undertake long-term projects to study the effects of the gas. The ICMR (Indian Council of Medical Research) on December 11 reported its plans of undertaking a major epidemiological survey to see the effect, of the gas on kidneys and immune systems of the victims. Food Toxicological Research Institute, Hyderabad, Institute of Occupational Health, Ahmadabad, Cancer Research Institute, Bombay, Institute of Genetics and Hospital for Genetic Diseases, Hyderabad, all got various projects to study the phenomenon of MIC leak and its effect on human beings. Even foreign scientists, specialists in chemical warfare, arrived on the scene to see whether the gas could be used to kill, efficiently and when their presence was brought to the notice of Mr. Arjun Singh, then Chief Minister of Madhya Pradesh, he declared that though no fishing around might be allowed, the Government would assist everyone in making enquirers into the subject. He wouldn't have liked to be seen as interfering with the 'scientific' investigation of a rare phenomenon. Yet at the same time he was so keen to keep all information away from the lay public that his government went to the Jabalpur High Court repeatedly to seek permission to destroy samples of the gas that the High Court had insisted must be kept in order to make independent investigation possible.

This campaign of misinformation and suppression of information reached its peak on the question of the presence of phosgene in the leaking gases; and on the question of presence of cyanide in the systems of the poisoning victims. Answers to both questions were vital for the treatment of patients and right from the beginning there were reasonable doubts that both were present. Yet it was decided to deny outright their presence. The Union Carbide insisted that what leaked was nothing but MIC. 'It was MIC, declared Dr. Awashia of [the parent Union Carbide Corporation. And Indian scientists took up the refrain. On December 7 itself IARI (Indian Agricultural Research Institute) was making public results of tests carried out on plant samples, to assert that the gas that leaked was not phosgene and Dr. Varadarajan declared in Bhopal on December 10 that scientists from defense laboratories had found no trace of ' phosgene in Bhopal. Yet on December 21, under intense questioning, Dr. Varadarajan admitted (that there was a small quantity of phosgene in the MIC. Now it was revealed (that its presence was essential for the safe-keeping of MIC, though Dr. Varadarajan also hinted that the phosgene present in the MIC that leaked from Bhopal might have' been more than what was absolutely essential. By January 4 in the Lucknow Science Congress, he was admitting that he and his team had [no available chemical method for quantifying phosgene. This time this admission of lack of preparedness was an excuse for choosing to convert the remaining MIC to the commercially usable pesticide Seven, as the Company had desired, rather than using some other non-commercial mode of neutralization. All this is an example of scientific honesty and commitment to truth of our S & T community.

The case of the possibility of formation of the cyanide compounds in the gas victims' bodies was even f more curious. It seems sodium – thiosulphate is a known antidote for cyanide poisoning. Dr. Awashia of Union Carbide, in his initial message on the line of treatment had suggested the use of this antidote, and at least some doctors in the Hamidia Hospital had used it in the early days of the tragedy even on themselves and had found it effective. But soon it was decided that any connection of MIC with cyanide was not to be suggested; doctors of the Union Carbide and their Indian counterparts in the Government started insisting that MIC could not cause cyanide poisoning, and in an unusual 'unscientific' step, the Director of Madhya Pradesh Health Services issued an official letter on December 11 banning the use of sodium thiosulphate. The ban was lifted only on February 3 when overwhelming evidence of cyanide poisoning in the bodies of the victims could not be any more in the activity of suppressing information was indeed, a diabolically ignored. (Thus the flamboyant participation of the scientists and technologists cynical act) It can be argued that this suppression of information and spreading of misinformation was not directly the responsibility of the scientific community. That it was done under pressure from and on behalf of the political / bureaucratic hierarchy. And it does seem that much of this was not a strictly scientific technological, but a public relations job in which scientists were rather prominently involved. Especially, the daily press briefings of Dr. Varadarajan during the so called 'Operation Faith' were nothing more than this since as far as the technical aspects were involved, he himself had admitted that the whole operation was carried out by the factory staff with the help of American experts. The job of Dr. Varadarajan and his team was perhaps only to devise the faith-raising drama of helicopters spraying water, and wet tents covering the area; and to give authoritative ton-by ton briefings to the press on the MIC neutralization and to repeatedly assert that the whole operation was a Zero-risk affair, as if that term had any scientific meaning.

However, accepting the plea that the scientists indulged in this public relations exercise at the behest of other bosses does not reduce their responsibility. It should be remembered that it is only the scientists who in the modern world claim the role of being the guarantors of truth. The politicians or the bureaucrats have never claimed any such role. In fact the near universal acceptance of Modern science is partly based on the idea that the only commitment of science, and the scientists in their professional capacity, is to truth and to nothing else. This idea may not be entirely correct. Yet by telling blatant lies the scientists of India have degraded the idea of science and have betrayed their profession. What is even more alarming is the possibility that if they have told lies in this case, they may also be telling lies about mush else in the S&T establishments which may be equally hazardous.

Finally, we come to the most intriguing aspect of the behavior of the S&T community during the Bhopal crisis. What was so important about the presence of phosgene in the gases that leaked and about the presence of cyanide compounds in the bodies of the victims that the scientific community should try to suppress this information? One possible explanation is that while a term like MIC was little known to people, phosgene, the dreaded war gas and cyanide's, the dreaded poisons, are better known terms and people would have known how to react to these. Insistence, that there were no cyanide's and no phosgene involved and that what did the killing was some totally unknown substance called MIC, then seems to be an attempt, by the S&T community to control the reactions of the people and to make them dependent on itself for all information.

However it seems that more was involved in this exercise than merely the engineering of the reactions and responses of the people. It seems that phosgene and cyanide compounds being better known are better regulated in law. Presence of these substances enhanced the legal culpability of the Union Carbide, and suppression of information on these' was an attempt to reduce the culpability of the company. If this is the case, then effectively the Indian S&T personnel have colluded with the foreign company and thereby they have lowered the dignity of the S&T profession in India. Even otherwise, by their inability to handle the technical aspects of the situation themselves, by their total reliance on foreign doctors in the treatment of patients, by requesting the company officials to analyze the various samples (even for the sake of investigation into the company's responsibility) by heaving the process of neutralization of the gases to the company management and American experts of the company, and in general by showing their complete inability to tackle' the crisis without foreign help and guidance, the Indian S&T community has dishonored itself. It is only because the Indian scientists and technologists behaved so incompetently that the foreigners acquired the boldness to suggest that it was the involvement of the Indians with the plant that caused the disaster. Wall Street Journal suggested it in mid-January and later in the month, Dr. Brown, an American Noble laureate in chemistry, made the same insulting J reference, while on a visit to India as a guest of the Indian Council of Scientific and Industrial Research (CSIR). Now of course the parent American company, in its report, has squarely laid the entire blame on the Indians operating the plant at Bhopal.

It is true that the scientists were not the only ones who behaved in a way that lowered the dignity of their profession. For instance, the Indian government itself panicked at the arrest of Mr. Warren Anderson, the Union Carbide chairman in Bhopal, sought his immediate release, and flew him in a state aircraft to Delhi; and the foreign secretary of India granted audience to the chairman of a multinational that by it callousness had just caused a major disaster. That arrest may or may not have been decent or civilized, as spokesman of the Government and many leading newspapers of the country suggested, but the later panicky behavior was definitely below the dignity of a sovereign government allegedly run by competent professionals. The legal profession also joined in this exhibition of general lack of dignity and self-respect by the various professional groups of- India. While the local lawyers competed with each other in acting as agents of American legal firms, the Advocate General of India himself rushed to the U.S.A. to find ways of seeking Justice from the American courts, instead of attending to the business of getting the culprits to the courts in India.

Thus it seems that the S&T community of India was not the only professional community that during the Bhopal crisis proved itself to be incompetent in handling the crisis without foreign help, and showed a singular lack of professional pride and honor. It seems 'that the failure is shared by the entire professional groups that modern India has evolved. But the failure of the S&T community is the most glaring. This is not only because it was basically the responsibility of the S&t community to avert and to handle disasters of the type that occurred in Bhopal, but also because much more has been expected of the S&T community compared to other professional groups. Indian nation has sought to become a modern, powerful, independent nation through the medium of modern S&T. If after almost four decades of concerted development, the Indian S&T establishment finds, during a technological crisis let loose by a foreign company, that it does not have the know-how and the capability even to ascertain what exactly where the substances that came out of the plant to cause the disaster, that it does not have the confidence to deal with the aftermath of the crisis, and that it has to seek help from the foreign culprits to handle the situation, then we can no longer remain so smug and sure about the basic assumptions regarding modern S&T that have been made in modern India., Intact, the failure of the S&T community seems highly alarming because out of all the modern professional groups and structures that. Independent India sought to develop the science and technology establishment seemed the most logical and essential because of the supposed universality of modern S&T.

Perhaps, the problem is with this idea of the universality of modern S&T. Firmly believing in the universal truth of modern science and universal applicability of modern technology, the builders of modern India have generated an S&T community that finds all its "sources of inspiration and standards of competence placed outside the country Forced to work in fields in which all the data and all the theories get generated abroad and in which the center of activity always lays outside India, the Indian scientists and technologists fail to evolve the confidence to deal with Indian problems, in India with Indian resources. Used to the idea of seeing the foreigners as the leaders of activity in their particular fields of endeavor, the Indian S&T personnel fail to evolve a proper professional pride in their own community. Infect, given the role and behavior of the Indian S&T community during the Bhopal crisis, it seems that the Indian scientists and technologists, working as they largely do with observations made elsewhere and theories proposed and judged by other groups, have even failed to evolve the usual scientific discipline of being keen observers of their surroundings, and of being a community with professional honesty. At the same time, with their foreign orientation, the Indian S&T personnel" seem to have developed callousness towards life in India that is typical of the outsider. What else can explain the phenomenon, that during the discussion on Bhopal in the Lucknow Science Congress, held in the wake of the tragedy, even lay members of the community went about reading inane papers on topics like the survival or otherwise of roses in Bhopal, copying the flamboyant style of their peers.

Of course, there are many amongst Indian scientists and technologists who prove themselves to be extremely competent even by the Western standards. However, these bright ones, having found recognition in a community outside India, quickly get alienated not only from the Indian people, but also from the Indian S&T community. Many of them go abroad, many others become recluses working on esoteric problems that have relevance to some group working abroad and to experiments being done elsewhere, others get frustrated. The leadership of the S&T community in India thus falls in the hands of those who are basically only good managers. In the case of a crisis, these leaders can, as in Bhopal provide the necessary managerial skills, while the actual scientific and technological problems are left to the foreign experts.

How can the situation be remedied? How can India have a S&T community that is confident of itself, and confident of handling the technological problems of India on its own? How can there be an Indian S&T community that is imbued with a healthy pride in itself and is conscious of its professional dignity? This confidence, pride and dignity cannot perhaps be expected from a community that sees itself merely as an extension of the S&T endeavor of the West,a community that is perpetually conscious of being a poor relative of an external group. What is needed is perhaps a scientific and technological endeavor that seriously seeks to establish a genuinely Indian tradition of S&T, a tradition that solves the S&T problems of India through Indian resources, using the Indian genius for science and technology.. Any such Indian tradition of S&T today will, in some sense, have to relate itself to the older Indian S&T traditions. In our obsession with the idea of the universality of modern S&T, we have often denied the existence of any meaningful and valid S&T traditions in the history of India. However, now that the futility of all our efforts at building a dignified and competent S&T community on the basis of alien traditions is becoming increasingly clear we should be willing to undertake a more serious search for our traditions.This perhaps is the most important lesson that needs to be learn from the Bhopal tragedy.



Author: J. K. Bajaj


TOWARDS A NON-WESTERN PERSPECTIVE ON SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE

The available studies on the phenomenon and institution of science suffer from a curious limitation. It is as if all those who analyze the subject were overawed by the grandeur of modern science, and their studies were in the nature of tributes laid at the feet of this great savior. All analysis starts from the assumption that modern science is a set of value free theories that uniquely explain reality. After the scientists in the early 20th century started overhauling their theories in a big way, it was granted that the value free theories of science that explain reality may do so only partially at a given time, but as science progresses, its theories explain more and more of reality and the process converges towards the 'ultimate', 'unique' law that explains everything. Committed to this idealist picture of a unique value free science, the philosophy of science is reduced to a set of attempts at finding the epistemological criterion, internal to science, that allows the scientists, unencumbered by any extraneous considerations, to choose the true theory out of a competing set; the sociology of science is reduced to writing down the set of social norms, self imposed by the scientific community, which ensure that the technical criterion that guarantees the selection of the 'true' theory is strictly adhered to; and the historiography of science is reduced to writing a catalogue of the achievements of modern science, discovering the contributions made by more ancient sciences to the modern science and, more recently, discovering why some of the ancient sciences did not evolve into the modern true science. Thus the task of philosophy, sociology and historiography; of science gets reduced to providing a set of self consistent theories that reinforce the original assumption about the modern science being a set of value free theories that uniquely explain reality. Before describing the serious consequences of this type of analysis in inhibiting the development of a proper philosophical, sociological and historical perspective on science, let us first describe the limitations of this analysis in greater detail by looking at the present day status of the philosophy, sociology and historiography of science.

  1. Philosophy of Science: The present day work on the philosophy of science is essentially a debate between the followers of Popper and those of Kuhn. However, the real difference between the two positions in this debate is rather marginal. Popper insists that the purpose of the philosophy of science is to search for a criterion that makes science 'real, certain, indubitable and demonstrable knowledge' (Popper 1963, p. 93)' of the world; and excludes such pseudo knowledge' as is enshrined in, say, Marxism, Psychoanalysis and Astrology from the pale of science. Popper finds that criterion in the concept of falsifiability. Kuhn agrees with Popper as to the purpose of the philosophy of science, but proposes a different criterion, that of a puzzle solving tradition—which also achieves the purpose of establishing modern science as the only scientific formulation of reality, and incidentally, also proves Marxism, Psycho—analysis and Astrology to .be non science (Kuhn 1970 p. 7). Both criteria fail to fit the history of even modern science. So Lakatos amalgamates Kuhnian and Peppering positions and produces the concept of 'research programmers, which support puzzle—solving traditions and are subject to falsifiability as a whole. The history still does not fall in. And the philosophers finally decide that the only way to arrive at the correct understanding of science is to forget about fitting the history of science with any chosen criterion; and instead to define, by fiat, the correct epistemological criterion to be the one that best allows the fulfillment of the Bacon—Descartes ideals of science as the set of theories that provide the 'ultimate’s explanation of 'truths' ('London School of Economics Position', Watkins 1978). At this stage, then, the philosophy of science gives up even the pretension of being an (enquiry into science, and frankly becomes an apology for the claim of modern science to ‘ultimate’, ‘unique’ knowledge.

  2. Sociology of Science: The founding fathers of the sociology of knowledge treated natural science, as a special case, beyond the scope of a thoroughgoing sociological analysis. For example, Mannheim declared: "The historical p and social genesis of an idea would only be irrelevant to its ultimate validity if the temporal and social conditions of its emergence had no effect on its content and 'form. If this were the case, any two periods in the history of human knowledge would only! be distinguished from one another by the fact that in the earlier period certain things were still unknown and certain errors still existed which, through later knowledge were completely corrected. This simple relationship ... may to a large extent be appropriate for the exact sciences ..." (Mannheim 1936, p. 271).

    The historical and social genesis' of scientific 'truth' thus being declared irrelevant to their 'ultimate validity', the sociologists could deal only with the effects of the scientific knowledge on the rest of the society, or at most try to specify the social conditions which: help or hinder the development of scientific knowledge. And sociology of science, till recently, has remained true to the limits imposed by its founders. Most of the sociological analysis is limited to finding the appropriate normative structure of the social institution of science that will ensure that the ultimate goal of science, that of achieving knowledge, which is 'closely and increasingly isomorphic to the structure of reality', (Merton 1957) is implemented. The analysis goes on to isolate the social and political conditions that allow the existence of such a normative structure, and thus finds the social conditions that help or hinder the progress of science. The analysis has repeatedly failed; noideal community of open—minded, disinterested, impartial, independent self—critical scientists has ever been found. But inspite of these failures the sociology of science remains in its preestablished grooves.


  3. Historiography of Science : Taking modern science to be the unique description of reality, the historians of science had only to catalogue the theories and concepts of modern science and trace their development from the Greek, past onwards (e.g., See, Sarton). When later it became obvious that there were other 'scientific theories'—scientific by the criteria evolved by the modern sociologists and philosophers themselves—in other cultures, which over centuries of development showed no signs of becoming identical with modern science, the historians acquired a new task. Since modern science is axiomatically the unique knowledge about reality, if other 'scientific theories' did not evolve into modern science, then there must be some external causes which stopped them in their 'natural evolution', The new task of the historian was to find these external causes. Thus Chattopa dhyaya after listing the impressive theoretical and practical achievements of Ayurveda states: 'It is impossible for the historian of science in its restricted sense and i even for the historian of ideas in general to ignore the significance of a number of theoretical achievements of the ancient physicians. But it is equally impossible for the historians to overlook the basic fact that the promises of science remain unfulfilled in ancient and medieval India. ' These do not lead to the creation of science in the modern sense, as expected in the normal course of their development. Evidently there is also something in ancient India which inhibits or injures science..." (Chattopadhyaya 1977, p. 212; emphasis added). Notice that the objection against Indian medicine is not that it did not work, or that it did not flourish, but that it did not become modern science (as it should have done in the 'normal course'). And then the historian goes on to document the cultural aspects that differed from the 'Western liberal' ideal, and therefore did not allow Indian medicine to take the 'norma' course'. Needham had earlier done a similar, though much more extensive, job on Chinese science and society. Thus this painstaking analysis of the historians into the non Western sciences and cultures, instead of becoming a study of the social historical genesis of scientific theories, becomes an indictment of these cultures for not having been identical with the 'Western liberal' culture and, therefore, having failed to produce modern science.

We have seen that the conventional analysis of science takes it for granted that modern science is the ultimate knowledge of reality and constructs philosophical, sociological and historiographies theories which 'prove' that modern science t could not be anything but the 'ultimate knowledge of reality'. This type of analysis is no different than, and no worse than, the analysis found in all social sciences which are busy creating theories of the given sociopolitical economic reality without going into the genesis of such reality. However, such analysis becomes highly dangerous and misleading when applied to the natural sciences, because of the Predominant position occupied by science in modern culture. Philosophers, having first established a criterion that excludes anything but modern science from being' called 'science', take this construction as a 'proof that no other culture ever had any reliable knowledge of the world. Sociologists, having written down the set of norms that supposedly prevail in the scientific communities of the West, take this as a 'proof. That no other socio-political organization is compatible with the development of certified knowledge about the world. And historians, having shown that the sciences of other cultures were not (and did not evolve into) modern science, take it as a 'proof that no other culture could have had anything scientific to [say about the world. Such one dimensional analysis devoid of any socio-historical perspective of the object being analyzed, of course does not prove anything. However, when all intellectuals working on science repeat that only the Western culture could produce genuine knowledge of reality (in modern science), the noise combined with the fact that the Western world actually 'dominates the rest of the world today, becomes a powerful ideological argument for the continuation of this domination. These intellectuals seem to be inviting the non Western world to castigate their cultures because these cultures did not and could not produce modern science—the only true knowledge of the world.

It is this ideological force of the present day social, philosophical and historical analysis of science which makes it imperative that a more proper view of science be evolved. It is imperative that social, philosophical and historical enquiry into scientific knowledge be carried out without preconceptions about the uniqueness and ultimate truth of modern science. Such an enquiry will involve a comparative analysis of the scientific knowledge of various cultures and various epochs in terms of the social-cultural reality of those cultures and those times. It shall try to answer questions like, "Why Indian medicine is different from modern medicine?" rather than asking, "Why Indian medicine did not become modern medicine ?" In short such an analysis will endeavor to bring modern science to the purview of serious analysis and subject it in all its ramifications—not only the consequences it has en the rest of the society, but also the consequences the rest of social reality has on its content and form—to a proper philosophical, sociological and histories! enquiry.

We are aware that even in the West some philosophical, sociological and historical work outside the dominant tradition sketched above has been done. But this work, bound as it is to the Western paradigm, fails to evolve an alternative perspective. Thus Feyerabend, while strongly disagreeing with the London School of Economics (LSE) position (Watkins 1978, quoted earlier), has to invoke—just for the sake of scoring a point, as it were—Aristotle an Science as an example of * an alternative knowledge system consistent with the LSE position (Feyerabend 1978).
Again Mulkay, a modern sociologist of science, does make a strong case for a sociological analysis of the content and form of science: "There is nothing in the physical world which uniquely determines the conclusions of that (the modern scientific) community. There seems every reason to explore how far and in what ways scientific knowledge is conditioned by its social milieu" (Mulkay 1979-P. 61). Yet he has to be content with carrying this exploration within the frame work of modern Western intellectual tradition, and end up merely establishing the need for studying the process of 'social negotiation' in the scientific community. The seems that even if the effort is made to rid the analysis of the Western preconceptions (about modern science being the absolute value free transcript of reality), yet it remains difficult to evolve a proper perspective on science unless a full sociological and historical analysis of science outside the Western tradition is undertaken. If one wants to look at science as being conditioned by social milieu, one must look at scientific knowledge, produced in different Social milieus. This, even the heretic tradition of the West fails to do. Outside the Western, tradition, we are aware of just one attempt—inspired by the recent historical data on Indian and Chinese technologies, generated especially by Dharampa (1971) and Needham respectively—at an analysis of different technological systems in terms of their social milieus (Alvares 1979).

The problem of arriving at a comprehensive non Western perspective on scientific knowledge has to be tackled at two levels. One, to clearly articulate the Western view of science. Two, to explicate the view of scientific knowledge exhibited by scientific systems other than the Western science. For the first objective it may be useful to start by re examine the early philosophers of modern science (e.g. Bacon, Hobbes, Descartes, Locke, etc.) and to search for the historical genesis outside the theological circles, of the ideal of a knowledge system, that is the 'ultimate', 'unique' and 'value free transcription of reality. It may be interesting to look for the socio political values cherished by the philosophers that first generated this ideal. Such an analysis would lay: bare the hidden values in the supposedly value free modern science. Indeed it is to be expected that the early philosophers of science would have been much more explicit about the values they cherished and the social functions they wanted' the modern science to perform.

A clear articulation of the Western view of science is indeed found in the very writings of. Francis Bacon. He is generally recognized as the first philosopher of the industrial society. Writing during the late sixteenth and early seventeenth century, he seems to have given compendious expression to the project Western society launched around that time. Modern science was to be an essential component of this project. And the knowledge that was to be called modern science had two aspects. Firstly, it was, to be a, study of nature, and man as a component of nature, with a view to reduce both to controllable entities. Secondly, this knowledge of control was not to be regarded as any merely human acquisition, but as the absolute truth) of nature and man, in fact as a transcript of the mind of whoever created the universe. Francis Bacon gave clear expression to both these aspects of the new understanding of scientific knowledge. He in his Advancement of Learning laid down detailed plans for the orientation of learning towards knowledge that was to be sheer power. And in his Novum Organum he constructed an epistemology to indicate how this knowledge could be seen as a peep into the 'divine mind.

This view of science as1 a search for power that was also at the same time a search for absolute truth had explosive political potential. It at once provided the means of total control, and also a total justification of such control in the name of divine truth. It is clear from Bacon's writings and his actions—he was a considerable exponent of the art of exercising power "over other people and other nations—that such politics is what he was aiming at through this new orientation of learning. This Baconian project was perhaps not entirely new for the Western society. Perhaps the idea of absolute control in the name of absolute truth has always been (inherent in Western society, and it may be possible to trace it back to the Greek philosophers. But around the time of Bacon a new articulation of the Western project in the form of modern science was begun. The fact that what Bacon was saying was essentially an articulation of the Western project is obvious from the actual history of Western domination of the world through and in the name of modern science. In fact Hobbes, a onetime secretary to Bacon, gave blatant expression to this politics of absolute control that necessarily followed from the Baconian view of knowledge, in his Leviathan. And even in J. S. Mill, the renowned Liberal philosopher and democrat, we find the same adherence to the idea of control in the narrate of truth though considerably whitewashed with the later liberal terminology.

At the level of epistemology, as is well known. Bacon was much less successful. However, this lack of success did not mean that his ideal of epistemology as an attempt to prove the unique claim to truth of modern science was given up in the West. It is | possible to record the history of philosophy of science since Bacon to show that the Baconian ideal was indeed taken very seriously. It is even more revealing to' look at the modern Western critics of science, the critics who have seemingly despaired with the attempt to rigorously prove the uniqueness of Western science. Even in these critics the Baconian ideal seems to remain intact. In fact be it Husserl or Heidegger, Kuhn on Needham, or any of the most enlightened and accepted critics of modern science and the philosophy and history of it, all of them tend to take seriously the Baconian ideal of proving the unique claim to truth of modern science, and having failed to do this at the level of epistemology, they take the attempt to the level of history and ontology.

The most important step in our endeavor to evolve a non Western perspective on science would be the explication of the view on scientific knowledge exhibited by the scientific systems other than the modern we stern science. For this we need to pick up various scientific disciplines from other cultures, compare them with modern science. Tracing the development of different theories and different categories in. different cultures, we expect to get a clear idea of the influence of the social political cultural values on the content and form of science.

However, once the claim of Western science to unique truth is rejected, it becomes important to first explicate the idea of science in general; because, once the relativity of different sciences is accepted seriously, neither the content nor the methodology of modern science can be taken as the standard for determining the scientificity or otherwise of any other knowledge system. In that case, what standard does one have for calling any knowledge system as a 'science? Or, does one still need the concept of ‘science’ as distinguished from other knowledge systems?

For our purposes, having granted the relativity of sciences, the problem is no longer one of looking for a strict exclusive criterion that includes modern science alone into the domain of scientific knowledge systems. We have to look for criteria that allow us to mark a set of knowledge systems as 'science' and therefore comparable among themselves and with modern science.

While searching for such criteria we need only to bear in mind that the Western conception of science (say as enunciated in Bacon) associates two distinct features with the term. Science is seen as the body of absolute truths (or best approximations to the absolute truths) about nature. And, it is seen as the body of knowledge necessary for living in the world. Once we allow the possibility of alternative sciences, association of any science with the absolute truths must necessarily be dropped. However, the property of being a body of systematic knowledge necessary for competently living in the world must remain a necessary feature of any system of scientific knowledge. In fact it is this feature that makes it worthwhile to retain the notion of 'science' as distinct from other knowledge systems, say with exclusive spiritual or aesthetic orientations, which exist in a society and are related to the other pursuits in the society. This then we may take as a defining criterion for the 'scientificity' of a knowledge system. What we look for in a system of scientific knowledge is therefore an orientation towards this world, and institutional and theoretical structures that make this orientation successful.

It seems that within the Indian tradition, there are any numbers of knowledge systems that exhibit this characteristic of a successful orientation towards the world. For instance, if we study the texts of Ayurveda we find a marked 'this worldly' orientation. The texts explicitly define the project of Ayurveda to be the maintenance of the health and curing of the sickness of the man in the world, through the study and appropriate use of everything that is in the world. And the Ayurvedic physicians depicted in the texts evolve a detailed institutional framework for putting this project through. We find the texts laying down elaborate rules for admission into the community of physicians and for training as a physician. The texts also prescribe modes of communication within the community and codes of conduct for members of" the" community, adding up to an impressive institutionalization of the science of Ayurveda. The Ayurvedic literature evolves an. extensive theoretical framework to facilitate the gathering of data about the world, and to help systematize these data and their use in therapy. The Ayurvedic texts spread over centuries, provide conclusive evidence of the success of this institutional and theoretical apparatus in carrying through the Ayurvedic project of knowing about the. World in order to use this knowledge for the health of the man in the world. All these features go to! Make, Ayurveda a system of scientific knowledge. However what is important, about the Ayurvedic texts is that while they are 'scientific' in the sense: described, above, the science they evolve is qualitatively different from modern science. Even in. a. cursory study of Ayurveda, one would find that the texts are talking about a different approach to the world. The differences are multifarious. However, one characteristic that seems to clearly differentiate Ayurveda from Western science is the" Ayurvedic attitude towards theoretical formulations. The texts make it explicit that in the Ayurvedic view of knowledge and reality, truth always belongs to the concrete particular, and all theoretical generalizations are cataloguing devices for apprehending and systematizing the concrete The texts are emphatic in their declarations that truth does not reside in the theoretic generalization, and that the particular can and. does always transcend it. This explicitly stated attitude towards knowledge implicitly pervades all the Ayurvedic literature. It can be seen in the very organization of the texts, and in the way the texts continuously transgress their own theoretical categories. It can be seen in the approach of; the Ayurvedic physicians to" therapy, and their acute consciousness of the limits of therapy. Best of all' it can be seen in the attempt of the texts to incorporate folk wisdom and to accept current morality and current ethics, even at the cost of their own stated theoretical' and professional principles.

This attitude towards theoretical knowledge sharply separates Ayurveda from Western science. For the Hatter a theoretical generalization is always an idealization of the contaminated concrete' particular, an idealization that takes one nearer the absolute truth of nature. If 'we have to find phrases that characterize this distinction then we shall like To call' the Ayurvedic attitude the 'pragmatic systematic' attitude as opposed tothe theoretic absolutist attitude of 'Western science. We suspect that; these differing attitudes are embedded deep into the world-views of the Western and Indian civilizations, and mark everything that these two civilizations attempt to achieve.

In conclusion we should emphasis once again: that the' idea" of modern science1 being the1 unique body of knowledge isomorphic to the structure of reality is a principle that forms an integral part of the Western view of the world. That is why continuous attempts at providing a justification for this belief have although been made in the West. The non-Western societies, who have no reason to be enamored with this Western project, must reject at least the idea of the West being the repository of absolute truth about nature and man. This rejection in fact is a necessary condition for the dignified survival of the non Western world. Further, the non Western Societies must now work out and clearly articulate an alternative to the prevalent Western perspective on the phenomenon and institution of science, which is largely, based upon the assumption that Western science, and that too in its modern phase, is the paradigm for any viable theoretical reflection on science. Such parochialism renders the whole Western standpoint inadequate and un urinating at best, and dishonest and misleading at worst. We have seen how this parochialism is reflected in the philosophical, sociological and historic graphical dimensions of the Western standpoint. We have also tried to expose how this parochialism has rendered any genuine understanding of science impossible, and has essentially served as a handmaid of the cultural imperialism of the West.

What we have tried to emphasize in our discussion is that the Western parochial view on science does not stand the test of any serious comparative analysis of the sciences of the West and those of the none—Western cultures. It is in this connection that we briefly, touched upon an analysis of Indian medicine. What we really look forward to establish from this kind of analysis is that the same phenomenon (that of human health in the case of medicine) is interpreted and explained differently— in terms of different categories and different theories by scientists placed in different cultural contexts; and that all these interpretations of reality are equally valid and equally scientific by any unbiased epistemological and sociological criterion. This analysis will answer the after repeated question, "Why societies other than the Western society did not evolve modern science? We hope to prove that sciences of those other societies (Indian medicine, in particular) had no reason to become identical with modern science, because those sciences were evolved by other societies, which wanted to achieve their own different sociopolitical cultural goals. Their science was just one tool to achieve their own goals, just as modern science is just one of the tools that .modern Western civilization employs to achieve its goals. Once we can establish the validity of different scientific knowledge systems, we can then authentically claim that the non Western cultures are entitled to evolve even now a science commensurate with their needs and relevant to their social cultural historical context—rather than being forced to adopt 'modern culture' in order that they may produce modern science.


Author: J. K. Bajaj

Note:

* For further details on this and other aspects of the work of Bacon, see the article, 'The Roots of Modern Science—An appraisal of the Philosophy of Francis Bacon' in this issue.


ANCIENT INDIAN MEDICINE — THE PROBLEMS OF AN UNBIASED PERSPECTIVE


[A Critical Review of Science and Society in Ancient India by Debiprasad Chattopadhyaya, Research India Publications, Calcutta 1977].

The task of the historian who will search for elements of 'scientific knowledge ' in the knowledge systems of ancient non-western civilizations is a difficult one. All present-day theoretical reflections—sociological, epistemological and historiographical—on science are based on the assumption that western science in its modern phase is the paradigm for a ‘scientific’ knowledge system. If the historian of science in. ancient civilizations is to go by the tradition of this scholarship on science, he must abdicate his task right at the threshold—he is not likely to find 'knowledge systems' identical with the modern western science anywhere in history. All that the historian of science can then, do is to document the evolution of modern science in the western culture from Galileo onwards. And this is precisely what the historians of science did till recently, till Needham, to be precise.

Therefore, if the historian of science in ancient civilizations is at all to take up his task seriously, he must first free himself of the bias of all modern scholarship on science and must first evolve an unbiased criterion for calling a knowledge system ‘scientific’.

Fortunately, evolving such a criterion is not difficult. One can simply turn back to the school-text definition of science: 'Science is the body of knowledge based on observation of phenomena and their classification under a theoretical framework, which itself is tested in observation .' Thus, all that the historian of science in an ancient civilization has to look for is a knowledge system that has the following methodological characteristics:

M1 It is based on a sufficiently large body of observational data.
M2 It has a sufficiently elaborate theoretical framework to classify the data.
M3 The basis of legitimization of theoretical speculation is based in observation.

The above methodology obviously presupposes the epistemological position that :

El The above method is a legitimate method for acquiring knowledge about reality.

E2 The knowledge so acquired is always limited and subject to modification in the light of new data.

Therefore, the historian of science must also search for evidence., explicit or implicit, in favour of the above two epistemological criteria.'

Since the above epistemological-methodological criteria make knowledge an accretional process—ever increasing and changing through the addition and assimilation of new data—acquisition of such knowledge can only be a corporate activity. Therefore, in order to show that in a society a knowledge system based on the above criteria actually flourished, the historian must also show the presence of a community of practitioners. Thus to the above list of methodological-epistemological criteria, the historian must add the sociological criterion that :

S1 ln the society there was a professional community of practitioners of knowledge in the above sense, well governed by some social norms.

If in a knowledge system of an ancient civilisation the historian can find all the above characteristics, he can have no hesitation in calling such a knowledge system 'scientific'—whether that system fits in with the 'modern science' paradigm or not. The current tradition of scholarship on science—obsessed as it is with the ' modern science' being the only 'scientific' knowledge system that mankind has produced—may not agree, with him, but for any unbiased observer such a knowledge system must have all claims to be called 'scientific'.

Debiprasad Chattopadhaya in the first chapter of his book ' Science and Society in Ancient India' marshals enormous amount of data gleaned solely from the text-books of Indian medicine, in fact from the two major texts Caraka-Samhita and Susruta-Samhita alone, to prove that the system of ancient Indian medicine satisfied all the above requirements. To get an idea of the enormity of data collected, the first part of the book deserves to be read in full. Below, we shall endeavour to give some glimpses of the data collected on the above six aspects.

Methodological Criteria

MI Empirical Basis ; The Ayurvedic texts lay great store by empirical observation. The texts give detailed instructions about how to collect data on drugs, on pathological symptoms, and even on anatomy through dissection of corpses. And the data accumulated on all these aspects is stupendous. To take the case of data on drugs alone: Ayurvedic texts mention drugs of vegetable, animal and mineral origin. The number of drug plants mentioned in the three Samhitas (Caraka, Susruta and Ashtanga-hridaya) is somewhere between 600 and 700 and the number of Sanskrit names (excluding their derivatives) of vegetable drugs is about 1900. 'To this it needs to be added that the medical works do not discuss plants as such. What these discuss instead are the effects on our bodies of the different parts and products of the plants. As the Caraka-Samhita explains, "Root, bark, pith, exudation, stalk, juice, sprouts, atkalies, milk, fruit, flower, ash, oils, thorns, leaves, buds, bulbs and off-shoots are the plant products now in medicine.” (p. 85).

As far as the drugs of animal origin are concerned, 'Caraka-Samhita (alone) discusses one hundred and sixty-five varieties of animals. Enumerating the different animal products used for medical purposes, it says, "Honey, milk, bile, fat, marrow, blood, flesh, excrement, urine, skin, semen, bones, sinews, horns, nails, hooves, hair goracana—these are the substances used in medicine from the animal world. " (p.86). Again, Caraka-Samhita mentions 64 main minerals used for drugs. Add to these—600 to 700 drug plants with their different parts forming different drugs, 165 varieties of animals again with different products and parts acting as different drugs; and 64 main minerals—the various pharmacological preparations to which each of these drugs could be subjected, and one can have some idea of the enormity of the pharmacopoeia on which Ayurvedic medicine was based. In fact, 'the Caraka-Samhita itself speaks of “six hundred purgatives and five hundred decoctions", besides the eightyfour varieties of wines...'(p.88).

The respect for empirical observation of the Ayurvedic physicians is so great that Caraka-Samhita states, "The entire world is the teacher of the intelligent physician, as it is the fos of the fool. " (p.63). And both Ciraka- and Susruta-Samhitas declare, "No substance is found in the world which is without relevance for medicine.”

M2 Theoretical Framework to Classify the Empirical Data : The Ayurvedic physicians are clearly aware of the need for a theoretical framework to understand empirical data-in order to go b3yond mere empiricism, '...they feel-that something more than the mere knowledge of substances is required for their purpose. This something is the intellectual discipline or Yukti. Hence they claim, "Yukti (rational application) is the ultimate foundation of (therapeutic) success. A physician accomplished in rational application is always superior to one with the mere empirical knowledge of the substances,” (p.9-10). Or "...No one can claim to have a perfect knowledge of pharmacology by the mere acquaintance with the names or even forms of herbs. If one who knows the uses and action of herbs, though not acquainted with their forms, may be called a pharmacologist, what then need be said of the physician who knows the herbs botanically, pharmacologically and in every other respect ?..."(P- 9).

M3 Basis of Legitimization ; In spite of the fact that the physicians laid so much stress upon a theoretical formulation of the problem of medicine, the physicians always insisted that the final test of any hypothesis lay in practice. One can quote any number of verses from those collected by Debiprasad to support this contention. To quote just a few :

"He is the best of physicians who can in actual practice cure people of diseases. "

(From Caraka : p. 103)


"A learned physician must never try to examine on grounds of pure logic the efficacy of a medicine, which is known by direct observation as having by nature a specific medical action. Thus, for example, even a thousand logical grounds will not make the Atnbastha group of drugs have a purgative function."

(From Susruta : p. 83)


" All this is what we prescribe, because all these are based on what we directly observe (sarnyak upadisamah; samyak pasyamah ca iti.)”

(From Caraka : p. 82)


Epistemological Criteria

It is not essential that a knowledge system in order, to be termed ' scientific' must state its epistemological position explicitly—in no text of modern science will one find statements to that effect, and most of the practitioners of modern science are unlikely to be aware of the epistemological position implied by their science. However, in a society wherein more than one knowledge system is allowed to flourish, explicit statements of the epistemological positions of various knowledge systems are expected and it is interesting to find in the texts of Ayurveda verses stating the positions El and E2 unambiguously.

El Faith in the legitimacy of the Method: Ayurvedic texts are very forceful -in asserting that the method they follow is a legitimate method of acquiring knowledge about human health. Thus Caraka-Samhita declares : "The physician starting medical treatment in time and with proper medical knowledge—inclusive of the knowledge of the difference between the curable and incurable diseases—is absolutely certain to attain success.” (p. 36). Again, "In cases of diseases amenable to medical treatment, medicine can never be ineffective.", (p. 195).' And "As a bowman who is a good marksman and given to constant practice, taking up a bow and releasing an arrow does not fail in hitting a big target that is not far off, and achieves his purpose, so does a physician of accomplishment and means who starts treating a curable disease after full investigation, without fail bestow health on the patient ... “(p. 195).

In fact, the texts go so far as to state that any success achieved without following the correct method is sheer accidental success and is to be discouraged. Thus Caraka-Samhita declares, "Like a man without eyes or like a canoe left at the mercy of winds, the ignorant physician gropes about timidly because of his lack of knowledge. However, when he meets accidental success in someone otherwise assured of life (niyatayusha), the pretentious quack gathers courage with which he hastens the death of many others whose lives are not thus assured (a-niyatayusha)." (p. 204).

E2 Recognition of Limitations : Since the scientific method itself demands continuous accretion of data and continuous checking of the theoretical formulation against this data, it is essential, for a knowledge system based on such a method, to recognise the limitations of the knowledge available at any given time. In the western epistemological tradition these limitations of the scientific knowledge have been recognised to some extent only since early twentieth century. Therefore, it is interesting to find statements in Ayurveda explicitly recognising these limits. They recognise these limits at all levels.

(a) Limits on the domain of applicability of knowledge acquired : The recognition of this is clear in the distinction, made in the above quotations, between curable and incurable diseases. The physicians are willing to recognise that there are diseases which are not curable, and in those cases their medicine will not be effective. Thus Susruta states: "Having made these observations, the physicians will try to cure diseases that are curable, adopt palliative measures in cases where palliation is all that can be offered, and should not take up a case which is beyond all medical treatment ..." '(p. 102).

(b) Limits on the completeness of theoretical apparatus : The physicians not only recognize the limits of applicability of their science, they also recognise the incomple of the theoretical apparatus developed to classify and understand empirical data.

Thus, when they fail to classify all substances and their actions on the basis of their observed qualities alone, they introduce the category of vipaka—that of post-digestive changes in qualities of the substance. And when they still find that some substances agreeing with each other in all the categories developed so far do not agree in their action, they introduce the concept of prabhava. 'Here is what Caraka-Samhita says about –prabhava: "When, in spite of the similarity between taste (rasa), potency (virya) and post-digestive change (vipaka), two substances are actually observed to differ in their actions, such difference is to be accounted for by prabhava" ......But what is meant by prabhava? The Caraka-Samhita comes out with the frank admission that at the stage of knowledge represented by it, prabhava is something beyond the comprehension of doctors : prabhavah acintyah ucyate.’ (pp. 173-4). This willingness to add new theoretical categories in the face of new data, and willingness to admit the incompleteness of the current theoretical apparatus is the very essence of scientific method, and is rarely to be found even in the outlook of modern scientists.

(c) Limits on the domain of applicability of the method: Flourishing in an epoch and a society in which a number of knowledge systems prevailed, Ayurveda seems to admit the possibility of other methodologies in other contexts. Since Debiprasad is not looking for data on this aspect of Ayurveda, we cannot give any direct statement to corroborate this proposition. However, there is sufficient evidence to the effect that the Ayurvedic physicians do conceive of other methodologies in other contexts in the fact that wherever an assertive epistemological or methodological statement appears, it carries the qualification that the assertion holds is the therapeutic context alone. Thus Caraka-Samhita 'declares, "In this discipline (viz. medicine), everything is viewed as made of matter in five forms.(p.66), and Susruta-Samhita adds, "It is claimed that knowledge of matter in its different forms is alone relevant for medicine, because in the therapeutic context it is impermissible to conceive of anything transcending matter." (p. 74) [emphasis added].

This realization, that different contexts may require different' methodologies and categories', and that the scientific methodology is essential for acquiring knowledge specific to certain contexts, is very important—especially today when the undisputed legitimacy of the scientific method in the domain of natural sciences is given as a proof of the illegitimacy of all other knowledge systems devoted to the 'ethical', 'social' etc. contexts.

Sociological Criterion

Even a cursory reading of Debiprasad's book is sufficient to convince oneself that Ayurveda is the product of an active community of physicians that had well-established norms to govern it. Large parts of the texts seem to be accounts of symposia held at various places in which physicians from various schools participated. The fact that there were well-defined norms governing this community is obvious from the fact that the text insists that there are certain rules which are unanimously shared by all schools of medicine : sarva-tantra-siddhanta. For example Caraka - Samhita states, " Among these (conclusions) those are called the unanimously admitted ones which have reputation in each and every treatise on the subject (viz. medicine). Such are : there are causes, there are diseases, there are ways of curing the curable diseases." (p. 22).

How anxious the physicians are to have a professional community is also obvious from the minute care with which both Caraka- and Susrutn-Samhitas describe the qualities of men entitled to seek medical studies. The following about the seeker after medical studies from Caraka-Samhita is worth quoting in full:

"He should be peaceful (prasanta), noble in disposition, incapable of any . mean act (a-kshudra-karman), with straight eyes, face and nose, with slim body, having a clean and red tongue, without distortion of teeth and lips, with clear voice (i.e., with voice neither indistinct nor nasal), persevering, without egotism, intelligent, endowed with powers of reasoning and good memory (vitarka-smriti-sampanna), with broad mind (udara-sattava), inclined to medical study either because of being born in the family of physicians or by natural aptitude, with eagerness to have the knowledge of truth (tattva-abhinivesin), with no deformity of body and no defect of sense-organs, by nature modest and gentle, contemplating on the true nature of things (artha-tattva-bhavaka), without anger and without addiction, endowed with good conduct, cleanliness, good habits, love, skill and courtesy (sila-sauca-anuraga-dakshya-pradakshinya-up apanna), desirous of the welfare of all living beings, devoid of greed and laziness (alubdham analasam sarva-bhutahitaishinam) and having full loyalty and attachment to the teacher." (p.218-9).

In fact, from within the data collected by Debiprasad, one can find evidence for all the four norms for a scientific community—universalism, communism, disinterestedness and organised scepticism—prescribed by Merton.

Universalism implies that truth claims in the community be subject to impersonal, well-defined criteria of validation. As we have seen above, Ayurveda lists the criteria of validation of knowledge In so many words. And even for those who are permitted to pursue medicine as a career, it prescribes clear impersonal qualities as obvious from the verse quoted above. However, unlike the Mertonian analysis, the Ayurvedic physicians do not go further to claim that the impersonal criteria for validation of knowledge established by them in the therapeutic context are the only criteria by which any knowledge in any context can be validated. But that, in any case, is an impermissible and biased extension of the criterion of universality.

Communism essentially means that there be free flow of information amongst the practitioners. In Ayurveda, it is ensured by laying a strong stress on debates within the community. The Caraka-Samhita advises, "A physician must enter into debate with another physician (bhishak bhishaja saha sambhashote).” Explaining the desirability of it, the text adds: "Debate with one belonging to the same discipline contributes in the perfection of one's knowledge and clarifies one's understanding...... Those who are wise, therefore, strongly recommend intra-disciplinary debate." (p. 208)

Disinterestedness : In Ayurveda, disinterestedness in the Mertonian sense of willingness to discard theories that do not face up to the data and willingness to add new categories to the theoretical framework is clearly borne out by the discussion on prabhava given earlier. However, in preaching disinterestedness, Caraka-Samhita goes much further than any present-day scientific community. The Samhita declares: "(Among physicians) he surpasses all who practises medicine neither for the sake of money nor for the sake of sensual gratification in any other form, but is motivated only by the compassion for living beings......One who practises the healing art with compassion for the living beings as the noblest of all duties is .a person who really fulfils his mission and thereby gets entitled to the highest form of happiness." (p. 210).

Organised Scepticism : The Ayurvedic texts are clearly sceptical about any knowledge that is not acquired in pursuance of the scientific method. Thus, in a colloquium described in Caraka-Samhita, when a participant, Rajarshi Varyovida, waxes eloquent abot the importance of Wind (Vayu) in sustaining life quoting the various qualities of the Vayu god, Maricit another participant in the colloquium, leaps to attack : "Even if all these were true, what is the point of saying all this in the medical discipline ? Whatever is said here must be said in accordance with the requirements of medicine." (p. 265).

However, this scepticism, as emphasized earlier, is conscientiously restricted to the medical context, where alone it is relevant to the requirements of science. The physicians show no inclination to state that nothing is sacred in any context. Thus, while analysing the cow in the medical context as to its place in the general zoological
classification of animals', and describing the properties of cow's flesh and other parts as drugs, they find no contradiction in declaring in other contexts that, "One should worship the gods, cows, brahmins, preceptors, spiritual adepts and teachers." (p. 15).

In the above, basing entirely on the data collected by Debiprasad Chattopa-dhayaya in his" book, we have tried to prove how by an unbiased criterion the knowledge system of ancient Indian medicine was entirely 'scientific'. The analysis above is necessarily limited, because, firstly Debiprasad is not using the categories of analysis we have defined above secondly we cannot do full justice to the enormous amount of data 'collected in his book within the format of this review. To get a more complete idea of the scientificity of the ancient Indian medicine, the first chapter of the book must be read in full. However, this recommendation we make with a proviso—a lot of statements that Debiprasad makes and contradictions that he finds must be discounted. This is because Debiprasad is not looking for the 'scientific' in ancient Indian medicine for its own sake, but only to prove that Indian medicine had tendencies which could be called 'proto-scientific' and which, given an alternative (western-liberal) civilization, would have bloomed into modern science. The reasons for and the inadequacies of this position we discuss in the second part of this review.

Having overcome the first bias of modern scholarship on science that modern science is the only scientific knowledge system that mankind ever produced, and having shown the existence of an alternative knowledge system which had claims to be called scientific by any unbiased criterion of 'scientificity', the historian is immediately faced with the question : 'Why did this knowledge system not evolve into modern science?'

An unbiased historian will answer: There is nothing in the criterion for scientificity of a knowledge system which dictates that all scientific knowledge systems must evolve into modern science. Having actually observed a scientific knowledge system that was and remained in its content and form quite different from modern science through centuries of evolution, the unbiased historian will have to conclude that, like all other knowledge, science is also a cultural product, and the content and form of science in different cultures are therefore different. He will then have the interesting task of looking for differing socio-cultural elements in different societies that make their scientific formulation of the same natural phenomena so different. Thus, in answer to the above question, the historian of science will have to make a comparative analysis of the concepts of human health, of social organization, of health-care system etc., in the ancient-Indian and modern-western societies, to see why their scientific formulations of the problem of medicine are so different.

However, taking up such a position will amount to a head-on confrontation with all modern scholarship on science, which insists not only that modern science is the only scientific knowledge system evolved in human history, but also that modern science is the unique formulation of reality. [And incidentally since modern-western culture alone has been able to produce this ' unique formulation of reality', modern-western culture is the model to be followed by other cultures if they want to have any genuine knowledge of reality]. Denying this bias will amount to denying the whole basis of modern cultural-imperialism of the West.. That needs intellectual courage of a high order.

Standing on the shoulders of Needham, Debiprasad takes the first step towards evolving an unbiased view on science: that of allowing that other societies at other times may have produced scientific knowledge systems. But, like Needham, Debiprasad cannot take the next step of allowing that these alternative scientific knowledge systems, flourishing in different cultures, had a right to their independent evolution; and the fact, that these systems in their evolution showed no tendencies of becoming identical with modern science, is no argument to prove that these systems died a natural death. Instead, Debiprasad acquiesces in the current bias that modern science is the unique formulation of reality. All that he wants to claim in favour of the enormous theoretical and empirical knowledge of the ancient physicians is that it was some sort of a proto-science*, which had the potential of evolving into modern science. If it did not do so, it can only be because there must have been elements in the ancient Indian culture which inhibited the evolution of science. And, as if to atone for the sin of having discovered in Chapter 1 a scientific knowledge system in a non-western society, Debiprasad immediately sets for himself the task of finding these elements in the cultural environment of ancient India. Here is what Debiprasad himself has to say about his task in the remainder of the book:

".........it is impossible for the historian of science in its restricted sense—and even for the historian of ideas in general—to ignore the significance of a number of theoretical achievements of the ancient physicians. But it-Ms equally, impossible for the historian to overlook the basic fact that the promises of science remain unfulfilled in ancient and medieval India. These do not lead to the creation of science in the modern sense as expected of the normal course of their development. Evidently there is also something in ancient India which inhibits or injures science, wanting even to destroy what is once achieved by it. Since, as Needham says, the inhibitory processes concern the historian of science as much as the adjuvant ones, an attempt will be made in the present chapter to identify the former." (p. 212).

In this attempt to search for the 'inhibitory processes', Debiprasad collects data from the Indian legal literature in Chapter 2, and from Caraka-Samhita itself in Chapter 3. Before evaluating this data, we wish to remark on a curious feature of this attempt.

When a historian of science undertakes an attempt to find the processes which inhibited the development of a scientific knowledge system, one expects him to first adduce some evidence that, in the period under consideration, the knowledge system was indeed inhibited in a way that it failed to flourish. Debiprasad adduces no such evidence against ancient Indian medicine.-On the contrary, the impression one forms from the data collected by Debiprasad is that of a medical system which continuously flourished during the whole period of about ten centuries covered by his analysis, and which was apparently very efficacious. Let us give some evidence of these two features of ancient Indian medicine—using again the data collected by Debiprasad himself:

(i) Evidence showing that ancient Indian medicine was a flourishing system : According to Debiprasad's testimony, Indian medicine acquired the status of a scientific knowledge system sometime before Buddha. 'Indian medicine takes the step from magi-co-religious therapeutics to rational therapeutics sometime before the Buddha.' (p. 341). And the extant Caraka-Samhita, on which the analysis of Debiprasad is based, is a revised version of the earlier texts, the revisor being Dridhabala about whom 'on a very rough estimate, however, it may be permissible to assume that he belongs to the Gupta period or sometime near the sixth century' (p. 32). In the extant Caraka-Samhita Dridhabala claims that the text he is revising is itself a revised version of an earlier text, the intermediate reviser being Caraka. Then there is the presumption (according to Debiprasad) based on the textual evidence that there are 'eminent ancient authorities through whose hands the compilation passes before reaching its intermediate editor, whom Dridhabala calls Caraka'. (p. 33). The extant Susruta-Samhita seems to have a similar history. Thus over the period of ten centuries, about which the medical compilations offer historical data, the canonical works of Indian medicine are being repeatedly revised, or reconstructed—as Dridhabala prefers to term his revision. Who will imagine this happening in a knowledge system that has failed to flourish?

And what does the reconstruction of these medical compilations involve? Dridhabala, the final reconstructor of the Caraka-Samhita relied upon by Debiprasad, claims to have 'completed this treatise by adding to it seventeen chapters on therapeutics, the Siddhi-Sthana and Kalpa-Sthana...’ (p. 31). Thus, in this one reconstruction, the Caraka-Samhita acquires 41 new chapters out of a total of 120. What are these new /'additions? The first seventeen chapters are added to Cikitsa-Sthana which deals mainly with therapeutics, the newly added Kalpa-Sthana contains '12 brief chapters, evidently supplementing the pharmacopoeia of the earlier books' (p. 21) and Siddhi-Sthana contains '12 Chapters on enema, purgation, urinary diseases etc, mainly supplementing what is discussed in other books (of Caraka-Samhitay (p. 21). Thus the reconstructor is evidently bringing the text up-to-date by adding to it the new information acquired on therapeutics, pharmacology and diseases and techniques since the earlier compilation. Does a science that is becoming decadent generate such a vast amount of new data, requiring a supplement one third as big as the earlier compilation?

(ii) Evidence showing that ancient Indian medicine was an efficacious system :
In favour of this proposition there is, of course, the evidence of the faith in their medicine of the ancient physicians themselves (quoted earlier in the first part of this review). It is difficult to imagine the practitioners of a medicine that did not work stating categorically, 'In cases of diseases amenable to medical treatment, medicine can never be ineffective (na hi bheshaja-sndhyanam vyadhinam bheshajam akaranam bhavati)’ (p. 195). However, this is not the only evidence we find in the book about the efficacy of Indian medicine. Debiprasad quotes Vinaya-Pitaka (a Pali canonical work of Buddhism) describing how Buddha allowed all sorts of freedom to the sick bhikkus in consideration of medical requirements (pp.328-333). According to Vinaya-Pitaka Buddha goes to the extent of saying, 'I allow, oh bhikkus, in the case of a disease not human, the use of raw flesh and the blood.' (p.332). If Buddha with his ethics of non-injury (ahimsa) allows his bhikkus the use of raw flesh and blood, in case of medicinal need, it could only be if the medical practice (had acquired sufficient authenticity through its efficacy. In fact, the general belief in the efficacy of medicine at the Buddhist time seems to be so great that sick lay-men are tempted to join the samgha merely to get entitled to the services of a famous physician, Jivaka Komarbhacca. (p.328). In the end we must add that the Indian legal literature) which according to Debiprasad is frankly anti-science, itself pays a tribute to the efficacy of medicine by recording the story of Asvins—the medical gods—having acquired the right of getting libations drawn for them during the sacrificial ritual, by having repaired the head of the sacrifice (Vedi) which had got severed. And the story is repeated on and on in the various Vedic texts (pp. 242-250). If the medical practice is so efficacious that even gods, who do not like the medical men, can be in need of it, it must have been really efficacious for mere humans.

Thus there is sufficient evidence in Debiprasad's book to show that Indian medicine, in the period considered by him, flourished continuosly and worked effectively. Therefore, it appears that he takes up the task of finding the processes which inhibited the growth of science only because the theoretical formulations of ancient Indian medicine during their evolution did not ' lead to the creation of science, in the modern sense, as expected of the normal course of their development' (p.212). And what are the inhibitory factors that he finds ? Debiprasad collects two types of evidence to show the presence of inhibitory factors. We shall discuss these two separately :

1. Evidence (in Chapter 2) from literary sources—especially from what he calls the Indian legal literature : He shows that in this literature there is intense contempt for the knowledge acquired by observation, and for the rational method. Also, the legal-literature assigns a low-caste status to the physicians, and even the medical gods are not quite at par with other gods.

We are no authorities on Vedic literature to discuss how far this evidence is reliable. So we shall assume that all that is said about the Vedic literature is correct. All that this evidence proves is that in the socio-ethical-religious context the scientific method was not considered suitable ; and that the physicians did not belong to the ruling classes. These two are; just not sufficient to establish that scientific method in the medical context could not have survived.

Then, there is the related question that, as far as historical evidence is available, the-legal literature and the rational-medicine flourished at the same time. Obviously, there must have been sufficient realization of the relevance of alternative systems of knowledge in alternative contexts (as emphasized by the physicians in the canonical texts of medicine themselves) to allow for the simultaneous flourishing of two different knowledge systems. Debiprasad does not accept this hypothesis (pp.273-274). Instead, he seems to propose to explain this historical fact of the simultaneous development of Upanishadic philosophy and rational-therapeutics, by claiming -that the latter developed outside Upanishadic India—the development of the two was spatially separated if not temporally. In support of this he quotes the story of Uddalaka Aruni who is born in Kuru-Pancala but has to go out of his native place to the physician Saunaka, 'who lives in some comparatively unknown place outside the stronghold of Upanishadic culture', in order to pursue his interest in medical questions (pp. 303-304). The hold of Upanishadic literature must have been rather limited to allow the Indian medicine to continuously flourish for ten centuries outside its strongholds!

2. Evidence (in Chapter 3) from Caraka-Samhita : In this section Debiprasad lists evidence from within Caraka-Samhita which goes against its expressed reliance in the scientific method. Debiprasad's hypothesis is that these extra-scientific statements in Caraka-Samhita are in the nature of tributes, paid by the physicians to the dominant anti-scientific ideology, to save their science from being entirely banned. While avoiding going into the merits of this hypothesis, we only wish to point out that most of the extra-scientific statements quoted by Debiprasad from Caraka-Samhita are in the nature of ethical statements. Thus a very large portion of Chapter 3 is devoted to showing how Caraka-Samhita, in spite of taking a very scientific interest in the cow, recommends, at other places, that the cow should be worshipped; and how the text, while giving a very scientific description of alcohol and listing 84 varieties of wines, insists at other places that celibacy (brahmacharya, which includes avoidance of alcohol) is a virtue. It is difficult to see why a scientist, while realizing the importance of a scientific understanding of the cow and alcohol in the medical context, is not allowed to hold the cow worshippable and alcohol obnoxious, ordinarily. If Buddha with all his piety and all his insistence on ahimsa can recognise the medical need of eating flesh and thereby lose nothing of his ethics, why must the scientist recognizing the ethical need of worshipping the cow and avoiding alcohol lose all his science?

Debiprasad believes that the ancient physicians, by taking an interest in the ethical-social questions, stopped ancient medicine from evolving into modern medicine. He may well be correct. But he does not prove that this interest in the social-ethical questions stopped ancient medicine from flourishing, in the period under consideration, or from curing sickness—and that is all that matters.

It is a belief of the modern scholarship on science that recognition of the ethical and social needs in a knowledge system is anti-scientific. Thus, we hear Needham saying about Confucius:

"To neglect man and speculate about Nature was, he (Confucius) believed, to misunderstand the whole universe. And so it was that he struck a blow at science by emphasizing its social context too much and too soon." [The Shorter Science and Civilization in China, abridged by C. A. Ronin, Vol. 1, p. 83].

Debiprasad, by acquiescing in this belief, loses the opportunity of finding how the ethical-social views that the ancient physicians held effected the content and form of their science and made it so different from modern science, whose unstated ethics is the ethics of the market and of unbridled exploitation of both nature and man for the sake of profit.

However, let us state that if this denial of all ethics except the ethics of the market is essential for the development of modern science, as both Needham and 'Debiprasad seem to imply, then let us not have modern science. We shall still have a science, just as the ancient physicians had a medicine, that was scientific, that flourished and that cured.



Author:J. K. Bajaj



GREEN REVOLUTION : A HISTORICAL PERSPECTIVE


The history of modern agriculture in India begins in 1757. In that fateful year, the Indians lost the Battle of Plessey to the East India Company of the British soldier-traders. As a consequence of the defeat, the revenue rights of one district in Bengal—the 24-Pragannahs—had to be ceded to the Company. The foothold thus gained by' the Britishers in the civil and revenue administration of India expanded rapidly. By 1765, large territories of India, particularly En the provinces of Bengal, Bihar and Orissa, had come under the control of the Company—and agriculture in India had become subject to the British administration and its modernizing influences.
Pre-British period

Before this conquest, agriculture in India was a traditional way of life. It was no mere economic activity. In the autonomous Indian villages agriculture was the basic life-activity of the people. Its major function, if an integrated life activity can at all be analyzed in terms of functions, was to fulfil their life-needs. The needs of the Government, of the market, of the industry were all secondary to that major function.

This independence of the traditional agriculture from external political or economic control was achieved through a social organization that left the village largely autonomous. The obligation of the village to the external political authority was limited to the payment of a small proportion of the produce as revenue. On the basis of the revenue records of those times Dharampal (quoted in Claude Alvares, 1979, p. 174-5) estimates that the proportion of the produce payable to the external authority around 1750 was as small as 5 percent. At the time of Jehangir this proportion was even smaller—about 4 percent. Having met this obligation the village was free to organize its own political and economic affairs. In these affairs the- village was so autonomous that who actually ruled at the centre was not of much concern to the villagers. Marx (1853a) quotes an official report of the House of Commons to the effect that:

...The inhabitants [of the village] gave themselves no trouble about the breaking up and division of kingdoms; while the village remains entire, they care not to what power it is. transferred, or to what sovereign it devolves; its internal economy remains unchanged...

Within the autonomous village, the cultivator was quite independent. According to the estimates quoted earlier, the cultivator paid perhaps another 25 percent of his produce towards various heads of revenue. A large part of this 25 percent however,went towards financing the religious, cultural, educational and economic activities of the village. This share of the produce was jn fact, often paid by the cultivator directly to the individuals or institutions responsible for the above-mentioned activities. The political aristocracy and the militia ended up receiving only 1.5 and 6.0 per cent respectively of the gross produce. Having received its share of the produce the aristocracy had no more rights on the land; in particular it had no right to separate the cultivator from his piece of land. Land was not the private property of the aristocracy—a concept yet to arrive in India

The political-economic independence of the village and the cultivator was further secured through the independence of the village from external industrial and market influences. This independence does not mean that in the pre-British India there was no . industry or no trade. In fact for the first hundred years of British contact with India the British traders dealt only in the manufactured goods of India. Up to 1757, they had to actually import silver and gold into India to be able to buy the Indian manufactures—the Britain of that time had no manufactures to exchange with India (Claude Alvares, 1976). Even in 1840, (Montgomery Martin, an early historian of the British Empire could insist before a parliamentary enquiry that, 'I do not agree that India is an agricultural country; India is as much a manufacturing Country as agricultural;... her manufactures of various descriptions have existed for ages, and have never been able to be competed with any nation wherever fair play has been given to them ' (Dutt R. P., 1940,. Yet this vast manufacturing activity did not interfere with the autonomy of the village and the agriculturist. In fact this manufacturing activity was closely coordinated with agriculture. Textile manufacture,- the most important industrial activity of pre-British India, was carried out almost entirely by the agriculturists in their free time. This close coordination between agriculture and manufacture, this 'domestic union of agricultural and manufacturing pursuits', was in fact, as Marx (1853a) noted, the pivot of the village system. It' was this union that ensured the autonomy of the village, by making agriculture free of the demands of an external industry or market. That is why the spinning wheel (charkha) and the handloom—the basic tools of this union—became the symbols of the traditional Indian civilization of independent cultivators and autonomous villages, for both Gandhi and Marx.

Whatever the differing perceptions of Gandhi and Marx about the historical role of the pre-British Indian civilization, for both of them its essential picture was the same. For both of them it was the civilization of independent agriculturists—organized as autonomous villages—cultivating their land to fulfill their needs. These autono- me. villagesorganized their own economic and political institutions, including the manufacturing activities. No external Government, no external industry, no market dictated what they may or may not do or produce. Such was the independent agriculture that moved into British hands through the events following the defeat of 1757

British period

The Britishers had no use for this Indian concept of agriculture as an autonomous 'way of life. In their eyes, the agriculture on which they acquired control was nothing but a source of revenue. And they set about the task of collecting more and more revenue with great zeal. R.P. Dutt (1940) records that, In the last year of administration of the last Indian ruler of Bengal, in 1764-65, the land revenue realized was £8,17,000. In the first year of the Company's administration, in 1765-66, the land revenue realized in Bengal was £ 1,470,000. By 1771-2, it was £2,348,000, and by 1775-6 it was £2,818,000. When Lord Cornwallis fixed the permanent settlement in 1793, he fixed it £ 3,400,000.' (p. 114). With more and more money flowing into the British hands the village and the producer were left with precious little to feed themselves and maintain the various village institutions that catered to their needs-According to Dharampal's estimates, whereas around 1750, for every 1000 units of produce the producer paid 300 as revenue, only 50 of which went out to the central authority, the rest remaining within the village ; by 1830, he had to giveaway 650 units as revenue, 590 of which went straight to the central authority. As a result of this level of revenue collection the cultivators and the villagers both were destroyed. But that was of little concern to the Britishers as long as the agriculture kept on «- performing its new function of filling the British coffers. How far agriculture lost its previous position of being the provider of the life-needs of the people, and became merely the source of British wealth is tellingly brought out by the communication sent by Warren Hastings to the Court of Directors of the Company, on Nov. 3,1772' a year after the great famine in Bengal that killed perhaps 10 million people. Warren Hastings reports :
"Notwithstanding the loss of at least one-third of the inhabitants of the province, and the consequent decrease of the cultivation, the net collections of the year 1771 exceeded even those of 1738.... It was naturally to be expected that the diminution of revenue should have kept an equal pace with the other consequences of so great a calamity. That it did not was owing to its being violently kept up to its former standard."

Before we move onto the British phase of Indian agriculture, we wish to undo one prevalent misconception—that these decentralized village communities were technically inefficient. All available accounts of those times suggest that : the independent cultivators had achieved almost complete perfection in the art of agriculture' producing 'the most abundant crops, the corn standing as thick on the ground as the land could well bear it' (Walker 1820) ; the ecentralized manufacturers were able to produce the finest specimens of not only textiles, but also of steel ; the village institutions had spread education so well that G. L. Prendergast, member, Governor's Council, Bombay remarked in 1821 that, '-.:there is hardly a village, great or small throughout our territories, in which there is not at least one school,-, there is hardly a cultivator or a petty dealer" who is not competent to keep his own accounts with a degree of accuracy...'; this decentralized civilization was able to produce medical practioners, astronomers, philosophers and artists of the highest order. For further details on these aspects of the Indian civilization, see, Dharampal {1971), Claude Alvares (1976), Dutt R. P. (1940), DuttR. C. (1970).

The independent cultivator of yester-years, who cultivated his land to fulfil his needs, now had become a tool to produce revenues that would fuel the Industrial Revolution of England . He would eat only after the demands oft that Revolution were met. And if after meeting those demands, nothing was left to eat, he may as well have died, as many of them did. He was no more important in himself. Latin American and African Civilizations had previously been sacrificed to prepare for this . great event in 'human' history. Now it was the turn of the Indian Civilization to come forward and be carried to the alter.

This change of view of agriculture from a source of life in India to source of 'progress' in England brought in its wake untold misery. Irrigation works fell into dilapidation. Vast tracts of cultivable land decayed into a state of jungle. Industry got uprooted. Education got destroyed. All philosophical, scientific and literary activity came to a standstill, people died and trie culture stagnated. The story of that early plunder by the Britishers and the consequent misery or India is well documented, though not so well known amongst the educated Indians . We shall not repeat that story here. It should be remembered that the important point about that sad chapter of Indian history is not the immediate destruction and misery of that period. There had been plunderers before, and perhaps they had spread an equal amount of misery . Such open plunder could not last long. The Britishers themselves soon realized that the type of destruction let loose by their early administrators in India was likely to kill the goose that laid golden eggs. Therefore, some semblance of order had X. to be restored. Cultivation was to reappear in the areas which had reverted to the jungle. Some irrigation facilities were to be provided. Some of the industrial activity, all of which had been moved from the villages to the cities of Lancashire and Manchester in the early British phase, was to return to the Indian cities. Some education was to get reorganized, though only according to the patterns dictated by Macaufay only to produce some lackeys, 'Indian in blood and colour, but English men in tastes, in opinions, in morals and in intellect'. Even some philosophical, scientific and literary activities were to restart, though in the English mould. But, and this is the important 'point about that phase of Indian history, India was never to be the same again. The villages and the agriculturists living there were
never to become autonomous again. Never again would there be independent

cultivators, cultivating their land to fulfil their needs. Those needs would always be subservient to the needs of the state, the industry and the market - all of which were now severed from agriculture. Agriculture was never, again to become a way of life. It had become a mere economic activity. It had been finally 'modernized'

The major instrument of this modernisation, besides the naked force used by 'the early Britishers, was the system of land lordship introduced into India for the first time. Independent cultivators, cultivating their own piece of land, were not likely to put external economic needs before their need to eat and clothe. A landlord, however, assured of his personal well-being, could be relied upon to produce and sell what the industry or the state needed. He could be relied upon to respond to the market. He could be relied upon to divert good food grain land to opium, indigo and soon, while famines stalked the country. By making agriculture responsive to the market and the state the landlord became the modernizing force. Thus, Marx counted landlordism as one of the few regenerative forces introduced into India by the Britishers. 'The Zamindari and ryotwari themselves', declared Marx (1853b) while listing the regenerative forces, 'abominable as they are, involve two distinct forms of private property in land-the great desideratum of Asiatic Society'. Independent cultivators used to grow what they needed to live, rather than producing what was needed to 'progress'. They required the concept of private property in land, personified inthe landlord, to teach them that it is more important to progress, to industrialize, than i to-eat and clothe. The Britishers provided them with the landlord. And modernized them.

How successful were the Britishers in modernizing Indian agriculture—in making it responsive to the needs of the industry and the vicissitudes of the market—can be gauged from the crop output data of the last fifty years of the British rule. The Central Government had started publishing such data by the late nineteenth century. The period before the first World War was marked by a favorable world market in all export crops, and expansion in the domestic manufacturing capacity in textile and jute. Consequently we find Indian agriculture flourishing in this period agricultural out put rising at a rate faster than the growth of population. It is perhaps one of the best periods in British Indian agriculture, with per capita food availability hovering around 540 gms per day throughout this period inspite of substantial exports of rice and wheat. Then came World War I, followed by the Great Economic Depression, and the World War II. Export markets contracted. Prices of agricultural products crashed . And Indian agriculture took a nose-dive. While on-food grain production merely stagnated, the food grain production started showing a declining trend even when population was rising. Per capita food availability for the quinquennium ending 1946 was down to 417 gms per day inspite of some imports. Interestingly the only crop that showed

The general wholesale price index for Calcutta (July 1914 = 100) which stood at 202 in 1920 declined to 173 in 1924 and 141 by 1929 and touched the rock bottom of 87 points in 1933. Indices of cereals, pulses and oilseeds in 1933 stood at 66, 84 and 74 respectively, (Vara Anstey, 1919 ; quoted from NCAR, 1976; Vol. 1, p. 128). Later with the outbreak of the Second World War, food prices increased reflecting general scarcity (NCAR stands for tha Report of the National Commission on Agriculture, 1976).

expansion in this period was sugarcane which was granted protection by imposing new tariffs on import. While famine was on the horizon, the area under this commercially favored crop actually increased by about 40 per cent between 1930-31 and 1938-39.

Thus, in this fifty year period we see the agriculture going up or down with the worldwide [economic forces. These forces, and hot the needs of the people decided how much of what the Indian agriculture would produce. Economics had won, life
had failed.

Post-Independence phase

As noted above, independence came to India at a time when agriculture was passing through a particularly bad phase. Bengal had just passed through a major famine. Per capita food availability was dangerously low (417 gms/day in 1946), Rural indebtedness had been increasing alarmingly - according to the Central Banking Enquiry Committee, rural indebtedness had nearly doubled between 1929 and 1936. Cultivators were finding difficulties meeting their fixed liabilities such as rent, land, revenue, [etc. Many agriculturists were turning into landless labourers (NCAR, Vol. 1, p. 199). I Partition of the country worsened the situation further, and the country was facing art acute shortage of both the commercial crops and the food crops (NCAR, Vol. 1, p! 219). Something needed to be done immediately to improve agriculture.

An obvious line of action was to concentrate on improving irrigation facilities that had been severely depleted with partition (only 19.7% of the net sown area within the Indian Union was irrigated), and to take steps- to put the cultivators back on the land and reduce rural indebtedness through land reforms. Some sort of land reforms had in fact become a political necessity, given the aspirations that people associated with independence. Action on both these fronts was started immediately after independence. Between! 1947-48 and 1949-50 the net irrigated area increased from 18.9 Mha to 20.2 Mha-most of the increase coming from increase in the area irrigated by wells and other minor sources (NCAR, Vol. 1, p. 221). Irrigation facilities kept on increasing at roughly the same pace—achieving an annual rate of increases of 0.67 Mha !of gross irrigated area for the period 1950-51 to 1968-69 {NCAR, Vol. V, p. 43). 'Land reforms were initiated by most states by 1950. These envisaged abolition of r Zemindari, security of tenure for tenant cultivators and fixative of reasonable rents; later some ceilings on land holdings were also introduced. Though carried out in a half-hearted manner, these land reform measures continued to provide some relief to the cultivators right through the fifties and early sixties.

Agricultural production responded well to the restoration of some just order in land relations and to the slowly increasing irrigation facilities. Aggregate crop-output during the fifties kept on increasing at a rate faster than the population growth. Both-V the 'area under crops' and the yield per hectare of almost every crop showed a rising trend.

For information regarding this period of Indian agriculture see, George Blyn (1966). [Also see NCAR, 1976, Vol. 1, ch. 3.

However, Independent India also wanted to become 'modern' and 'industrialized'. And for the modernizing industrializing India, it was not enough that agricultural output should increase. It was also important that agricultural production should respond to the needs of the market. In particular, it was important that food should 1 come to the market for sale. Because, as the NCAR (Vol. II, p. 14) noted,’ The entire industrial sector depends heavily on the supply of food from the agricultural sector. Since a sizeable part of the wages of the industrial worker is spent on food items, a sustained supply of food from agricultural sector is a necessary condition for stability in the industrial sector...'. But production rising through the expansion of irrigation and land reforms was just not coming to the markets to reach the industrial sector. The National Commission moaned that, 'The unique features of the food situation during the Second Plan period were the increasing demand for food grains and a steady decline in market arrivals despite higher production' (NCAR, Vol. 1, p. 188) . It may be that part of the reason for this phenomenon was 'speculative holding of stocks by the grain trade'. But that does not seem to be the only cause, since various experiments of introducing control in the food trade did not help matters and the urban industrialized sector had to be fed with increasing imports till mid-sixties. It seems more probable that the general improvement in the land relations and irrigation which were the causes of the increased production also improved the lot of the cultivators and they simply ate more. This is what is likely to happen in a situation where the average per capital availability of food was low (around 460gm in 1960-61) and a large proportion of V rural population (around 40% in 1960-61 according to Dandekar and Rath 1971) had insufficient purchasing power to buy the bare minimum of 2,250 calories of food per day. Any increase in production achieved over a wide production base under such circumstances is not likely to reach the market. This tendency was further encouraged by the fact that agricultural production in the fifties and early sixties was by-and large independent of inputs from outside the agricultural sector. As the NCA noticed, production depended largely on the amount of labour the culti vator was able or prepared to put in. All inputs were farm produced (Vol. II, p 9). So the agriculture was becoming independent of the urban sector both on the input side and the output side. To the extent it was being freed from the yoke of landlordism it was once again showing traditional characters of being self-sufficient—the characteristics that the Britishers suppressed precisely through landlordism.

Thus resulted the dilemma of increased production and declining market arrivals along with increasing independence of the agricultural sector from the urban sector. The Indian planners saw the solution—in making the areas which were already surplus in food, more surplus. The idea was to concentrate resources in those areas that were already well-endowed. Such areas being already surplus would have no alternative but to bring their extra production to the market and transfer it to the industrial sector. In this scheme there was no danger of the producers consuming the increased produce as was bound to happen when the resources were allowed to flow to the deficit areas. This line of approach in fact was introduced into Indian agricultural planning rather early. 'Instead of spreading the efforts thin all over the country it was decided in 1950-51 to concentrate such efforts in compact areas called intensive cultivation areas

which possessed assured water supply and fertile soils' (NCAR, Vol.1, p. 143). In 1959, 'the Agricultural Production Team of the Ford Foundation recommended the intensive approach anew', (ibid, p. 149). And with the visible failure in the Second Plan to get the food to the market inspire of increasing production, a new Intensive Agricultural District Programme (1ADP) was launched in the closing years of the Second Plan. The expressed objective of the programme was to concentrate resources and efforts in specially endowed areas to achieve a quick break-through in production. The programme was expanded in 1964 under the name of Intensive Agricultural Area Programme (1AAP) to cover more of the well-endowed areas. 'All along, it was made sure that only areas with adequate production potential in terms of assured water and infrastructural facilities be chosen, and that emphasis be directed towards profitability at the farm level.

The ostensible argument in favor of these 'intensive' approaches was that resources spread thin over a large area are lost leaving no appreciable effect on production ; that only a package of practices involving concentrated doses' of recourses could be technologically effective ; and that increased production achieved in these areas with improved practices would have a 'demonstration' effect in[other areas. The latter argument obviously had no weight—there were just not sufficient resources to [spread such intensive practices elsewhere—especially in areas which were to begin with not 'well endowed'. As for the other argument of technological efficacy of an intensive package the fact is that there were no agricultural technologies in use that could absorb and respond to intensive doses of resources.

Traditional technologies, evolved in a more egalitarian context, evolved in a context where the food needs of cultivators were more important than the needs of surpluses to support 'progress', were just not capable of absorbing more than their due share of resources. And within that context, there was little that the experts of the Ford Foundation could teach the' Indian farmers by way of possible improvements. Long back in 1889, Dr. J. A. Voelcker, deputed by the Secretary of State for India to advise on the application of agricultural chemistry to Indian agriculture had noted this perfection. He reported that:

...it must be remembered that the natives of India were cultivators of wheat centuries before those in England were. It is not likely, therefore, that their practice should be capable of much improvement. What does, however,1 prevent them from growing larger crops is the limited facilities to which they have access, such as the supply of water and manure...' (quoted in Alvares 1979).

Therefore it is not surprising that the efforts of Indian planners to) achieve increased production through 'improved' practices in areas which did have access to facilities like supply of water and manure, should prove abortive. In fact, the

It should be noted that the thrust of the IADP and IAAP was not on introduction of new technologies, but on an intensive application of resources like irrigation, fertilizers, etc.

attempt was a complete failure. According to NCAR {Vol.1, p. 411) rice yields in the 12 rice districts and wheat yields in the 4 wheat districts under the lADP' averaged only 13.3 quintals and 13.5 quintals per hectare compared to the pre-package average of 12.4 and 10.2 quintals. As against these marginal increases in yields, (the added costs of the recommended packages were equivalent to 10 quintals of wheat on the average, and 10 to 12.4 quintals of paddy for most of the districts-The efficiency of the package for other crops was even worse.

Thus the intensive package approach to agricultural development being tried out in India since the fifties had really nothing to do with technological efficacy. The policy in fact only expressed a political wish for a technology that would respond to these measures—a technology that would allow the concentration of resources and production in a few compact already surplus areas. The policy was asking for a technology that would achieve technologically what was achieved by the Britishers politically through thai landlords—namely, responsiveness of agriculture to the needs of the industry and the market in preference to the life-needs of the cultivators. In other words, the developments sought for in the agricultural sector was not one that will primarily meet the needs of the rural population, but one that will provide the resources and capital needed for the industrialization taking place in the urban centers. What was needed was to break the independence of the rural sector and bring it into increasing dependence on the urban sector

make it enter into increasing exchange relations with the latter—the terms of exchange being manipulated to be so unequal as to enable the urban sector to extract the maximum possible surplus from the rural sector. Thus the need was for a certain technology to be introduced into the agricultural sector that would bring about such a transformation. No such technology was available at the time the intensive approach policy was being formulated and implemented. By mid-sixties, however, such a technology became available in the form of new 'miracle seeds that had proved successful in Mexico. These seeds were genetically selected to absorb huge doses of chemical fertilizers. Since these seeds had not evolved under natural conditions, they were susceptible to a number of pests and pathogens and needed to be grown under the protective cover of pesticides. The new seeds also required new sophisticated practices for irrigation, tillage etc. This was just the ideal technology to fit the bill. It would make the policy of concentration of resources economically and technologically viable. At the same time it would make the agriculture critically dependant on industrial inputs like chemical fertilizers and pesticides, and make the cultivator dependent upon the urban expert for the knowledge of the correct agricultural practices, thus removing the "dangerous tendency" of self-sufficiency in the agriculture sector for good. This technology, being so expensive could not possibly be extended over the whole country. But that did not matter. All that was required was to make the surplus areas a little more surplus, so that the urban-industrial sector would be assured of its requirements. However there was a snag. Acceptance of this technology would involve import of large amounts of fertilizer and pesticides, for India did not produce these. D. K. Desai (1969) and Dorris D. Brown (1971) have analyzed the IADP programmes in detail.

In the initial stages even seeds would have to be imported. Providentially, there was a widespread failure of monsoon in 1965 and 1966 in India, as well as over the rest of South Asia and South East Asia. This failure led to the' specter of a major famine—foreign experts predicted doom, some of them suggesting the possibility of one million starvation deaths in Bihar alone (NCAR, Vol.1, p 27 ; Speech of the Chairman, NCAR, Shri C. Subramanian). This situation removed all hesitation about accepting the new seeds even if it involved massive imports. The ever helpful attitude of the Ford Foundation and the Rockefeller Foundation further encouraged the acceptance of the new technology. And in 1966-67 the New strategy of Agricultural Development, with" the programme of introducing the new technology, mainly in the areas covered by IADP and IAAP was launched. Similar programmes were adopted in all of South and South East Asia at around the same time. The programme was declared an immediate success. This success is what came to be known as the Green Revolution. In the following we wish to look at this 'success story' in some detail.

We have given such a long historical introduction to this analysis of Green Revolution, because we feel that, without an appreciation of the continuous conflict of 'tradition' versus 'modernity' in Indian agriculture since the arrival of the Britishers, it is not possible to assess the merits of this revolution. Without knowing this historical urge for modernity in agriculture—for making agriculture responsive to the needs external to the life-needs of the cultivator—it is impossible to see how this event which did not increase the aggregate rates of growth of agricultural output, did not decrease import-dependence of agriculture, did not enhance per capita availability of food, came to be termed a revolution

II. GREEN REVOLUTION—SALIENT FEATURES


The new technology of the .'Miracle seeds' and associated practices was indeed successful in generating high yields, wherever sufficient resources to effectively implement it could be mobilized. For some especially endowed areas, the increase in yield could even be justifiably characterized as revolutionary. This was amply borne out by a number of studies carried out to make a scientifc evolution of the response of different crop's in different areas under the High Yielding Varieties (HYV) Programme . However, our purpose in this article is not an evaluation of the Green

This was how the programme to introduce new technology in certain well endowed i areas was officially styled. The programme was monitored by the Programme Evaluation Organization of the Planning Commission during 1967-69. The relevant 1 results on] the yields of different crops in different areas under the HYVP have been gleaned from the ] various PEO evaluation studies and summarized in Appendix 4.2 of NCAR, Vol 1, by the National Commission on Agriculture. In Appendix 4.3 of NCAR, Vol 1, a summary of a study on the relative economic v returns from HYV and local varieties carried out by the Agro-economic Research ' Centers at various locations in the country in 1968-69 and published by Ram Saran (1972), is also available. From these studies it can be said that HYV wheat faired rather well in almost all areas. The main kharif crop of rice, however, seems to have showed almost no response to HYV cultivation. This incidentally was the fate of the monsoon rice crop all over South and South East Asia. The- studies, also show a wide variation in the response to HYV from area to area.

Revolution technology as a breakthrough in the 'science of agriculture'. We want to evaluate the Green Revolution as an event in the growth of Indian Agriculture. These two ways of looking at this new technology can give quite different results. For an evaluation of the Green Revolution as an event in the history of growth of Indian agriculture, it is not sufficient to assess the success of a few crops in certain localized areas. What we need to look at is the aggregate response of Indian Agriculture to the event of. Green Revolution.

Aggregate rates of growth

In Table 1, we have put together the compound rates of growth of some of the important parameters of agricultural development for the periods before and after the Green Revolution. We have taken the year 1967-68 as the dividing line, when Green Revolution is supposed to have set in. The pre-Green Revolution period considered runs from 1949-50 to 1964-65 and the post-Green Revolution period from 1967-68 to 1977-78, excluding the disastrous years 1965-66 and 1966-67. There is some controversy about the correct dividing line for these two phases of post-Independence agriculture. However, most of the results that we shall notice are quite independent of the variations in the dividing year. For an analysis with a different dividing line we may refer to the paper of George Blyn (1979) where the rates of growth for the period 1949-50 to 1973-74 are studied taking 1960-61 as the dividing year between the new and old phase of India agriculture. We shall often use some of his data.

Looking at Table 1 the first thing we notice is that the rate of growth of aggregate crop-production is lower in the post-Green Revolution phase as compared to the earlier

 

Production

Area

Yield
(percent per annum)

 

(a)

(b)

(a)

(b)

(a)

(b)

Period

 

 

1949-50

to

1964-65

 

1967-68

to

1977-78

 

1949-50

to

1964-65

 

1967-68

to

1977-78

 

1949-50

to

1964-65

 

1967-68

to

1977-78

Crop

           

Foodgrains .

2.98

2.40

1.34

0.38

1.61

1.53

Non-Foodgrains

3.65

2.70

2.52

1.01

1.06

1.15

All Crops

3.20

2.50

1.60

0.55

1.60

1.40

Rice

3.37

2.21

1.26

0.74

2.09

1.46

Wheat

3.07

5.73

2.70

3.10

1.24

2.53

Pulses

1.62

0.20

1.87

0.75

—0.24

—0.42



phase. While total agricultural production rose at a compound rate of 3.20 per cent per annum in the earlier, period, the rate declined to 2.50 per cent per annum in the second period. The decline, was visible in both the food grain output and non-food grain output George-Blyn (1979), covering a slightly shorter period 1949-50 to 1973-74 and dividing it at 1960-61, finds even a sharper decline of the trend rate in the later period. ' Keith Griffin (1979) analyzing the crop-output trends over all of the underdeveloped world finds the trends declining after the Green Revolution (1965 is the dividing year in his. analysis) in all the major regions except the Far East, where the growth rate is found to be practically the same in the pre and post Green Revolution periods (see his Table 1!.1 and 1.2). Thus it can be safely asserted that the compound rate of growth of aggregate agricultural production, as also of total food grains and total non-food grains production was lower in the post Green Revolution phase.

The decline in the rate of growth of agricultural production is often explained away as a consequence of the declining availability of additional area that could be brought under cultivation. In fact there is considerable statistical evidence that the decline in the growth rate of production must be to some extent attributed to the decline in the growth rate of area under the crops. From Table 1 we see that the total area under [all crops grew at a rate of 1.60 per annum during 1949-65 but the rate fell to 0.55 during 1967-73. An interesting aspect of the trend rates of area, that should; be noticed is that throughout the period 1949-78, during which food situation in1 the country remained precarious, area under non-food grain crops rose at a rate much faster than the area under food grains. In the later period the trend rates of area under food grains and non-food grains were 0.38 and 1.01 respectively, a difference of about 3 times.

Though decline in the rate of growth of area does explain part of the decline in the rate of growth of production, it does not explain all of it. In fact, the rate of growth of yield, production per unit area, itself declined. Thus, as shown in Table 1, while the aggregate yield rose at a rate of 1.60% annually during 1949-65, the increase was only 1.40% annually during 1967-78. Interestingly, on disaggregation into food grains and non-food grains, we find that while for food grains there is a slight decline in the rate of growth of yield, non-foodgrains show a slight improvement. Yet HYVP was supposed to have revolutionized foodgrains production I Further disaggregation of foodgrains into the major crop of rice, wheat and pulses shows more interesting features. We find ths rate of growth of rice declining sharply from 2.09 to 1.46, and that of pulses which was already negative going further below, from-0.24 to -0-42. Only wheat shows an improvement in the trend rate. Keith Griffin (1970) notices the same trend of increasing wheat production (except in Africa) and decreasing rice production all over the under-developed world.

The above statements of course refer to the data presented in Table 1, which is gleaned from the statistics put out by the Government (NCAR 1976). There are somewhat different data available elsewhere in the literature (see for example Gail Omwedt (1981),Ranjit Sau (1931), which employ either different sources or different base years etc. But from these data also, the same general trends are obvious : the decline in the rate of growth of aggregate agricultural production ; !no increase in the aggregate agricultural yield; marked decline in the aggregate yield of crops such as rice, pulses, etc.

It is tempting to try to explain the decline in the growth rate of aggregate yields by referring to the law of declining marginal productivity. What it means in simple terms is that with the given technology and resources the productivity during the years before the Green Revolution had reached a saturation level, and without a technological change maintaining the earlier rates of growth would have been impossible. If the new technology had not been introduced, the rates of growth of productivity, which admittedly declined a little after the Green Revolution, would have plummeted. Now to state that this law had started operating around 1964-65, one must show that by that period the possibilities of expanding irrigation and improving land relations, which were responsible for the increasing yields till then had been exhausted in India. At a later stage in this paper we shall examine whether such a situation had actually arisen. For
the present let us only look at the statistical evidence, if any, in favor of the assumption that the Indian Agriculture in 1954-65 had reached the saturation level. If this had happened, we should be able to observe a declining trend in the rates of growth of productivity in the years preceding the Green Revolution. In Table 2, we display the plan-wise rates of growth of agricultural production, area and productivity. What we see there is that during the Third Plan period (1961-62 to 1964-65), i.e., during the period immediately preceding the years when the decision to implement the HYVP was made, the productivity had reached an all time high rate of growth. The rate of growth "of productivity in this period was 2.7% per annum, as compared to the annual growth rate of 1.4% and 1'8% achieved during the First and the Second Plan periods. Thus the productivity graph, far from having reached a plateau, was actually moving upwards in the years before the Green Revolution. During the Fourth Plan (1969-70 to 1973-74), i.e. during the five year period immediately following the introduction of the Green Revolution technology, the rate of growth of productivity, however, touched an ail time
low of 1%. Thus it is obvious that the decline in ;the growth of productivity after the Green Revolution cannot be trivially explained by taking recourse to the law of declining marginal productivity.

Table 2

Plan-wise Compound Rates of Growth of Agricultural Production, Area and Yield



Plan Period


Agricultural

Production


Area Under

Crops

 


Yield

(% per annum)

First Plan

(1951-52 to 1955-56)

 

4.1

 

2.6

 

1:4

Second Plan

(1956-57 to 1960-61)

 

3.1

 

1.3

 

1.8

Third Plan

(1961-62 to 1964-65)

 

3.3

 

0.6

 

2.7

Fourth Plan

(1969-70 to 1973-74)

 

2.2

 

0.8

 

1.0



There is no "way to escape the fact that, notwithstanding highly visible increases in production and yields of a few crops in a few areas, both agricultural production and agricultural productivity in the aggregate showed a lower rate of growth after the Green Revolution technology was introduced. Even if one doubts the statistical significance of small changes in the trend rates; it is still impossible to maintain that there was any improvement in the growth rates of aggregate production and productivity. There definitely was no revolution in the Indian agriculture with the introduction of the new'revolutionary' technology.

It must be admitted that maintaining a growth rate of about 2.5% per annum for aggregate production and above 1% per annum for aggregate productivity over a period of about 3 decades is no mean Achievement, even if the growth rates did decline a little in the later period as compared to the earlier period. If we have pointed out this 'decline it is only to establish that ho revolution occurred in Indian agriculture with the onset of the so-called Green Revolution. What we want to criticize however are the special features associated with the attempt to achieve this growth through the new technology in tire later period. It is to those features that we turn our attention now

Costs of production

The rate of growth of production and productivity of Indian agriculture decline ' with the advent of the new technology. What is worse, however, is the fact that high price had to be paid to achieve even this reduced rate of growth. The HYV technology is known to involve fairly high costs in terms of energy, in terms of
depletion of soil-fertility and deterioration of the environment, and in terms of money.

A lot of data is available on the energy costs of the new technology of agriculture. And it clearly indicates that the HYV technology is energetically inefficient compared to the traditional technologies. If all outputs from and inputs into agriculture are converted into equivalent energy units and output to input ratio is analyzed, then the new [technology invariably turns out to be inferior to the traditional technologies. For the traditional technologies the output/input ratio is often greater than one, indicating that these! technologies are efficiently fixing the freely available solar energy. .For the new technologies this ratio is, however, always less than one. The difference] in the energy efficiencies of the old and new technology can be as large as 50-250times.

A 1968 comparison of the energy efficiency of British . agriculture as a whole with that of shifting rice cultivation carried out by Oyaks and Ibans in Borneo showed that while the efficiency of the former was only 0.20, that of the latter ranged between 14.2 and 18.2 (quoted in Caldwell (1979) p 56). A more relevant comparison is perhaps the one carried out by Lockeretz et al (1977). They compared; two sets of farms in the U.S. corn belt that differed from each other only in the in fact that one set used only organic manures and no inorganic fertilizer or pesticide ' , while the other set used these inputs. They found that while the two sets of farms showed comparable economic efficiency the organic farms used 2.4 to 2.5 times less energy per dollar of output. Incidentally, the organic farms were also able to employ 12% more labour, a commodity plentifully available in India. See, for enauple Reedy 1976

The new agricultural practices are known to have a deleterious effect on the environment and the soil-fertility. Chemical fertilizers change the soil flora and destroy the equilibrium of the soil. Consequently, more and more of chemical inputs become essential to get the same yield from a piece of land under this type of cultivation. This processor increasing chemical inputs year after year can even lead to permanent damage to the soil. Pesticides, an essential component of the new technology, form another component of the ecological costs. These pesticides have a way of being carried from food to man and other living beings, and form an almost permanent health hazard. All these ecological and energy costs of the new technology are important in any evaluation of the Green Revolution. However, in this paper we are mainly concerned with the economic costs of this Green Revolution.

The new technology of agriculture is capital intensive. Since this technology depends critically upon industrial inputs like fertilizers and pesticides, it commits the nation to large investments in these sectors. Thus in nitrogenous fertilizer alone the indigenous capacity had to be increased from 0.37 mT of nutrients in 1967-68 to 2.23 mT in 1979-80 . Generation of 2.23 mT of nutrients capacity means in today's (1980) prices an investment of Rupees 6000 crores. Even such a heavy investment in fertilizers has not been sufficient to meet the fertilizer requirements of the Green Revolution, and in 1979-80, 1.3 mT of nitrogenous nutrients alone had to be imported. Besides production capacity had to be generated for tractors, diesel-sets, etc. In addition to this capital investment in the industrial sector, every farmer adopting the new technology had to invest capital in acquiring the necessary machines. This capital too often came through the public financing agencies. If the idea of introducing the revolutionary new technology was to provide new avenues of-investments . for the industrial sector, and not bother about the cost of food production, the Green Revolution technology has clearly done the job well.

Even more important than the capital costs are the actual unit costs of incremental production obtained through the HYV technology. It is difficult to put a uniform value on these costs since there is a lot of variation from place to place and year to year. Just to have an idea of the costs involved we can look at the evaluation studies of 1967-69 referred to earlier (footnote on page 96). From these studies we find that additional costs per quintal of additional wheat produced through HYV varied between Rs. 25 to Rs. 45. On the average the costs of fertilizer application per hectare alone were around Rs. 230, which at best would have produced an incremental response of 10 quintals. These costs look favorable given the 1968-69 wheat procurement price of Rs. 76 per quintal. However, it should be remembered that the price of wheat in 1968-69 had almost doubled from its pre Green Revolution level, and that most of the inputs were heavily subsidized. These subsidies and price changes, in fact, make any evaluation of These figures are taken from Economic Survey, GOI, 1980-81. Figures for 1979-80 are provisional.

the economic feasibility of the new technology meaningless Once the decision
to implement a technology is made, output prices and input subsidies can always be manipulated to make the new technology economically feasible. The high costs of production through the new technology can however be inferred from the rising prices and the [fact that there is perhaps no country in the world where production I through the new technology can be maintained without subsidies and price supports. In India it is perhaps an indicator of the high costs of HYV production that procurement price of wheat, the major crop to come under HYV, has been rising at a much faster rate than that of paddy, which largely remained under traditional cultivation. And demand for higher paddy prices got some force only when the surplus Green Revolution farmers took to HYV cultivation of Rabi paddy.

External dependencef

It is commonly believed that, the Green Revolution made India self-reliant in
agricultural production. This belief is based on the impression that foodgrain imports after the Green (Revolution substantially declined. In fact, however, the net amount of cereal imports in the decade before the Green Revolution, i. e. between 1956-65, at 43 mT were only slightly more than the net imports of 38 mT in the decade 1968-77 following the Green Revolution. It is true that the imports did not rise with the increasing population. But, as we have seen, the rate of growth of foodgrain production actually decreased after the Green Revolution, while the population growth did not! show a corresponding decline. Under these circumstances, what could the declining cereal imports really mean? Imports of cereals in India have always been resorted to in order! to feed the urban sector. Reducing the imports for this purpose became possible after the Green Revolution because more food started flowing into the Government stocks, not because there was actually more food per capita to go [around. The increased availability of food with the Government was
caused by a lopsided growth of agriculture on which we shall comment in the
next subsection. The important point to remember, however, is that decreased imports of cereals did not imply a decreased foreign dependence of agriculture. What was gained in terms of reduced cereal imports was lost in terms of increased imports of agricultural requisites, especially fertilizer. Before Green Revolution, expenditure on imports of agricultural requisites used to be almost nil. In 1950-51, seven crore rupees were spent on this head, in 1960-61, the expenditure was thirteen crores. In 1970-71, this expenditure rose to 102 crores, and in 1973-74, it doubled to 201 crores. Then came the spurt in fertilizer prices, and in 1974-75,'expenditure on fertilizer import alone stood at 532.5

An idea of the level of subsidies can be obtained form the following : Naphta, the major raw material for the production of nitrogenous fertilizer, is sold to the fertilizer industry at a controlled price of Rs 900/ton while for other users the price is Rs 2350/ton (1980 prices). The fertilizer produced is then further subsidized. While price support and subsidies are legitimate rights of the farmer if they must produce via the new technology, it should be borne in mind that these measures help only a miniscule proportion of Indian farmers, who use the new technology and produce for the market.

crores. Thus the import dependence of Indian agriculture had in fact been rising quite fast. Let us look at this data in a different perspective. The price of nitrogenous fertilizer on a rough average remains around 3 times the price of wheat. In the decade 1967-76, on the average 0.72 mT of nitrogenous fertilizer was imported per annum . This is equivalent to the import of 2 mT of wheat per annum, implying that the equivalent wheat imports in the post Green Revolution decade had actually increased by 50%. And we have not yet counted the imports required to build up indigenous capacity in fertilizers and tractors etc., which should also in fact be counted under this head.

Thus, after the Green Revolution, dependence of the agricultural sector on foreign inputs increased in diverse ways. While earlier food alone had to be imported, now a number of varied inputs had to be brought in. While the Government had to depend on foreign countries for a large proportion of the new requisites of agriculture, the agriculturist had to depend even more on the Government and the industrial sector. There was an increased external dependence all around.

In addition to this dependence for tangibles like fertilizers, pesticides, seeds, etc., of the farmer on the Government and of the Government on foreign suppliers, an intangible, but not any less important, external dependence for knowledge of the agricultural processes appeared. The farmer who till now was the expert on agricultural technology became ignorant in one sweep. He had to look up to the university expert to acquire knowledge of the correct processes. And those experts themselves looked up to the so-called international community of agricultural scientists to learn the latest on the new technology.

Disparities in growth

Vast disparity in growth, from, crop .to crop and from area to area, was an inbuilt feature of the new technology. While a few crops in a few areas showed enormous increase in production and productivity, most of the crops and most of the cultivated areas in the country stagnated, and perhaps actually deteriorated.

(a) Crop to crop disparity :

We have already noticed that of the major foodgrain crops only wheat showed an increased rate of growth of production and productivity after 1967-68. To show this disparity of growth amongst various crops a little more concretely, we have, in Table 3, displayed the absolute figures for the area, production and yield etc., of the three main foodgrain crops of India (viz., rice, wheat land pulses) for every fifth year since 1950-51. In 1950-51, of the total foodgrain production of 52.58 mT, 21.81 mT was rice, 6.34 mT wheat and 8.33 mT pulses. In 1963-64, towards the end of the first phase of post-Independence agriculture, foodgrain production had increased to 83.38 mT. Of this 36.17 mT

Data in this para are taken from NCAR, Vol. 2, p 79 and Economic Survey, GOI, 1980-81. In conventional economics, this increased dependence will appear as development of new 'linkages' showing a positive effect on the overall Economy. But objectively, what is really positive about loss of self-reliance of the agricultural sector was rice, 10.96mT wheat and 11134 mT pulses. The production of the three crops had thus increased at the same pace. - In 1950-51, rice, wheat and pulses formed 41.5, 12.1 and 15.8 per cent respectively of total foodgrains production, in 1963-64, their respective share was 43.4,' 13.1 and 13.6 percent. The relative importance of the three crops in the total foodgrain production of the country remained essentially unaltered, except for a r small decline in the share of pulses. Interestingly, though the area under wheat increased at a faster rate than that under rice, the difference was made up by a higher growth of yield in the latter. In 1970-71, after the Green Revolution, however, we find wheat production jumping from 10.96 mT to 23.44 mT, while rice moved from 36.17 mT to only 41.91 mT, and pulses remained static. The share of wheat in the total foodgrain production rose from a mere 13% in 1963-64 to 22% at the cost of rice, pulses and other crops. While yield of rice and pulses remained almost unchanged, yield of wheat rose by 62%. Of the 6.35 mha of additional area brought under irrigation 4.89 mha went under wheat. [The same trend continued in 1975-76. Of 3.65 mha of additional irrigated area under foodgrains, wheat, accounted for 2.84 mha ; and of 6.41 mT of additional foodgrains wheat accounted for 3.88 mT. Output of pulses remained unchanged, while that of rice increased only slightly. All the benefits of growth thus went to the relatively prosperous wheat areas, while paddy growers, who formed the vast majority of the small cultivators were left to stagnate.

TABLE 3

Area, Production and Yield of various Foodgrain Crops


Year

Rice

Wheat

Pulses

Foodgrains

 

Area

'(It.)

Prod.

(Yield)

. Area

(Irr.)

Prod.

(Yield)

Area

Prod.

(Yield)

Area

(Irr.)

Prod.

(Yield)

1950-51

30.38

21.81

9.66

6.34

19.21

8.33-

97.71

52.58

 

(9.79)

(718)

(3.30)

(656)

 

(434)

(17.91)

(538)

1955-56

31.19

27.00

11,44

8.61

22.29

10.87

109.16

68.23

 

(10.69)

(866)

(4.00)

(753)

 

(488)

(20.26)

(625)

1960-61

34.21

33.97

13.29

11.13

24.21

12.09

116.21

80.47

 

(12.54)

(993)

(4.27)

(837)

 

(499)

(22.11)

(692)

1963-64

35.65

36.17

13.50

10.96

24.11

11.34

117.79

83.38

 

(13.39)

(1015)

(4.75)

(812)

 

(470)

(23.56)

(708)

1970-71

37.68

41.91

18.00

23.44

22.23

11.53

123.50

104.36

 

(14.37)

(1112)

(9.64)

(1302)

 

(518)

(29.91)

(845)

HYV

5.78

 

6.42

 

 

 

14.98

 

1975-76

38.63

43.41

19.79

27.32

23.15

11.47

124.54

110.77

 

(14.83)

(1124)

(12.48)

(1380)

 

(495)

(33.56)

(889)

HYV

13.07

 

12.3

 

 

 

30.93

 



One reason for this imbalanced growth between rice and wheat Is simply that the Western countries, where the new technology evolved, are no rice-producers. Long back in 1820, Alexander Walker, while describing the failure of an experiment to introduce English agricultural technology in an Indian village, had commented, inter alia, '..-It should also be well considered how far our agricultural process is suited to the cultivation of rice, the great crop of India, and of which we have no experience'. The problem is now solved simply by making the great crop of India, the less important.

However, the explanation of the phenomenon of the spurt in wheat production does not He merely in the fact that the countries where the technology was developed are wheat producing countries. It was also convenient to increase wheat production to meet the policy objectives which had in the first place led to the acceptance of this technology. There already were areas, almost surplus in wheat, and well-linked with the urban market economy. By increasing wheat production therefore, it was easier to meet the policy objective of bringing more food to the urban market. Hence it seems no accident that out of the 10mha of additional irrigation potential generated between 1963-64 and 1975-76, 7.73 mha has gone to. wheat areas. What is more, the Government has taken pains to supply a favorable market to the wheat growers. While, the wheat prices were maintained around the international market prices, the price of rice was kept substantially below the international price. For instance, as Keith Griffin (p. 170) notices, in. early 1978, ex-farm price of rice in India was $ 165 a ton, less than half the U. S. price of $ 335 a ton, which also represented the international price, since USA is a major rice exporter. On the other hand ex-farm price of wheat at that time was $ 135 a ton, compared to the US price of $110 a ton. The policy proved extremely successful. In January 1978, the country had 18 mT of surplus stock of wheat while about 300 million people in the country were below the poverty line, not having enough purchasing power to eat the food that was lying surplus.

The decline in the growth of pulses resulted from the same reasons that caused the spurt in wheat. Pulses, grown largely in rain-fed conditions, were not Notice that in 1950-51 total production of wheat in India was only 6.34 mT. Incidentally, wheat is also the major grain traded in the international market. In 1974, under-developed market economy countries imported 31.2 mT of wheat and only 2.0 mT of rice. See Table 6.7 and 6.8 of Keith Griffin (1979). Also see his tables 6.1 & 6.2 to get a profile of the international wheat and rice trade. Incidentally, before the Green Revolution, Asia was a net rice exporter. After the Green Revolution this region had become a net importer. In 1964, 181,100 tons of rice was exported from Asia; in 1970, 1,135,000 tons of rice was imported into Asia. Part of the reason for the higher domestic price of wheat is perhaps to be found in the higher input costs of this crop because of the adoption of the new technology. (See, the section on costs.)commercially viable. And the , countries derived their protein requirements from meat procured through the expensive process of feeding good corn to cattle and pigs . In largely vegetarian India, however, pulses forced the main source of proteins Yet the availability of pulses per head per day continuously declined, from 64.0 gms In 1962, to 58.0 gms in 1964, 48 gms in 1971, 45 gms in 1976 and only 40 grams in 1979 . the solution was seen in trying to teach the Indians to change their food habits and shift to commercially more profitable proteins. Let 'us give an example of the ridiculous extent to which the idea of changing the food-habits of Indians in a commercially favorable direction was carried. The Literacy House in India is a component of World Education Inc., a corporation that had, with the help of World Bank USAip and some other multinational agencies, taken up the, task of preparing the rural masses in the Third World for Green Revolution. This House in 1978 brought out an adult literacy primer, "Aao Charcha Karen". In that primer one finds the explicit message .

Eating just rice has a bad effect on health.

Eat eggs to make up for protein deficiency.

So, Indians were malnourished because they had the silly habit of being vegetarians If a commercializing society fails to produce vegetarian proteins., they should learn to shift to other things.

(b) Area to area disparity

Wheat and rice in India are traditionally grown in different areas. The fact that only wheat increased in production and productivity, already gives an indication that the much vaster rice areas must; have suffered stagnation after the Green Revolution. However, we can form a clearer idea of the type of disparities that arose in HYV and non-HYV areas by looking at Table 3 a little closely.

Let us start with the assumption that all increases in yield in 1970-71 were due to the marginal productivity of HYV and of irrigation at the official yardstick of 0.5 t/har (i.e., irrigating one hectare of land increases the output by 0.5 t),which almost jcertainly is an underestimate. Now after subtracting the contribution of the' marginal productivity of irrigation from the productivities shown in Table 3, we find that from 1963-64to 1970-71 productivity of rice (after subtracting the contribution of irrigation) rose from 827 Kg/ha to 922 Kg/ha and that of wheat from 634 Kg/ha to 1034 Kg/ha. If we assign all this increase in marginal productivity of 1.12 t/ha for HYV wheat and 0.62 t/ha for HYV rice. For wheat this implies that yields per hectare of unirrigated, irrigated and HYV-irrigated land were 634 Kg/ha, 1134 Kg/ha and 2254 Kg/ha, respectively.. The 1968-69 PEO studies based on field data from HYV areas gave average yield of HYV wheat as 2560 Kg/ha (NCAR, Vol. 1, Table 4.4). This means that our estimate of marginal productivity of HYV is a slight underestimate. It seems that the assumption that productivity innon-HYV areas remained unchanged is not entirely correct, it may have slightly declined. Now let us look at the figures for 1975-76 in Table 3. Once again we subtract the contribution of irrigation from the entire production and obtain the productivity of rice and wheat at 932 Kg/ha and 1065 Kg/ha, respectively, interestingly they are not at all different from the corresponding figures of 922 Kg/ha and 1034 Kg/ha in 1970-71. But the area under HYV rice had increased by 7.3 mha and that under HYV-wheat by 5.9 mha, between 1970-71 and 1975-76. Where did all the expected increase in production from these additional HYV areas go ? Some increase in productivity over the 1970-71 figures can be observed if instead of comparing 1970-71 yields with 1975-76 yields, we make the comparison with 1976-77 yields to include an abnormally good year 1977-78 in the average. (Productivity, after subtracting contribution of irrigation of rice and wheat, then comes out to be 1018 Kg/ha and 1106 Kg/ha respectively, with total HYV area under the two crops being 13.77 mha and 14.50 mha). Yet the marginal productivity of additional HYV rice and wheat does not approach anywhere near the earlier figures of 0.62 t/ha and 1.12 t/ha, which themselves seem underestimated. One way to explain this phenomenon is to say that as HYV areas were expanded, all the necessary resources could not be made available, and hence additional HYV areas did not show appreciable response to the new technology. Alternatively, one must assume that productivity in the non-HYV areas had declined to balance the increased productivity in HYV areas. In practice, both these process are likely to have operated. Since bringing an area under HYV involves considerable expenditure it is not likely to be done unless there is some corresponding increase in productivity. What is more, the consumption of nitrogenous fertilizer almost doubled between 1970-71 (1.37 mT) and 1975-76 (2.4 mT) and this increased use. of fertilizer must have produced some response In the HYV areas. If the aggregate productivity still did not show any appreciable improvement, the only plausible explanation seems to be that as more and more resources got diverted to HYV areas, the productivity in non-HYV areas actually declined. Micro-level studies will be required to isolate the detailed causes of this phenomenon, but the aggregate trend of declining productivity in non-HYV areas seems unmistakable. And it is not very surprising. As prices rise all around and even ordinary inputs become expensive, those whose inputs are not protected by subsidies and those who do not gain by the increased prices of the outputs are likely to stagnate and deteriorate,

To conclude this section, then, it is clear that no revolutionary improvement in the production and productivity of Indian Agriculture as a whole occurred with the so-called Green Revolution. If anything happened, it was that the rates of growth of Indian agriculture declined. What looked like a revolution was merely a spurt in the growth of a few commercially important foodgrains in a few areas which were already surplus. This growth too was achieved at a very high cost of resources, and at the cost of an enormously enhanced dependence' of agriculture on external, often imported, inputs. The increased costs pushed up prices all around, and made the subsistence fanners who were not protected by input subsidies and were not helped by higher output prices, since in "any case, they had no surpluses to sell—even more impoverished. The yields in those subsistence farms consequently seem to have declined below the pre Green Revolution levels. From the urban-industrial perspective, however, the change was truly revolutionary. With the growth concentrated in already surplus areas more and more food flowed into the urban market and the Government kitty, and the urban industrial sector became self-sufficient in food, even though large numbers of people still could not generate sufficient resources to get 2400 calories of food. (That is the official poverty line for rural areas and more than 300 million people are still below this line). The improvement in the food availability in the urban-industrial sector was in fact so revolutionary that to-day the leading economists can already advise resistance to the demands of surplus farmers for higher prices on the ground that we do not need more food. It is now being declared that the country has already lost enormously by producing more food than what is necessary, that the prices of foodgrains should now be kept low so that the surplus farmers are forced to more essential commercial crops. (See, the many recent editorials on this issue in the 'Times of India ) 'And this at a time when 300 million people in the country are still hungry ! These are the achievements of this Green Revolution .

Incidentally the salient features of the Green Revolution—decline in the aggregate growth, increased production in localised areas at high costs of often imported fresources, decline of production in less favoured areas and control of production by a small sector etc., are typical features of all modern technologies.! The theory and1 practice of modern science and modern technology was evolved in the seventeenth and eighteenth century Europe, The driving concern of that evolution was as clearly stated by Bacon, the prophet of the Scientific! and Industrial Revolution—simply power, power through control of nature, of production and necessarily of people. Resource efficiency ecological efficiency", distributive justice, etc., were nowhere in the minds of the people 'who' initiated this development. All ethical injunctions ensuring justice were in fact dismissed as obscurantist nonsense which the scientist or the technologist could have nothing' to do. He was to expend all his energies in increasing control—and hence profits. Justice and equality would, it was assured, follow as a result of that single minded search for power and control, [through some inscrutable dialectical process. Resource efficiency, of course, was something, about which the technologists of that era could not have cared much. All ' the resources of the colonies were there to be taken, almost free, till you could devise processes that will consume these resources efficiently or otherwise—within the mother country. It was under such conditions and such considerations that the science and technology that we call modern, emerged and it still carries its birthmarks with it. All the features of the Green Revolution that we have noticed are obvious manifestations of these birthmarks.

III. ALTERNATIVES TO GREEN REVOLUTION


Was there an alternative to Green Revolution The answer to that question depends upon what one expects a revolution in agriculture to achieve. If what is expected to be achieved is only a steady flow of food and resources to the urban market and the Government stocks and industries, then Green Revolution was perhaps the best way to achieve it. The HYV technology, with its high requirement of commercial resources, was designed to be applicable to only those areas which were already surplus in food. By making these surplus areas more surplus, it ensured that al! additional outputs will find their way into the market. If, however; our expectation from a revolution in agriculture is that first of all it enables the millions of subsistence workers living below the poverty line to produce their essential requirements, then of course there would have been no question of even considering the Green Revolution technology. In some form, our subsistence farmers already had an 'alternative' to the Green Revolution technology. Even a cursory, but sympathetic, study of their agriculture (with the above objective in view) would have led to the conclusion that what was needed was not so much new technology but immediate action to remove the various resource constraints which were putting tremendous pressure on their agriculture resources such as wood (fuel), manure, water, fodder and of course land. However, any step in providing 'free' access to such locally available resources to our cultivators, would have meant reversing the policy of achieving 'progress', (the policy initiated by the British administration), the policy of appropriating all the resources our people for the 'industrial revolutions' in the international and national metropolises. Let us consider, !for instance, two of the major requirements for traditional agriculture : access to water and access of labour to land. As we shall see below, India had, and still has, a vast untapped potential of these resources.

Irrigation :

Irrigation is the most important input for the traditional agricultural technologies. It insures the farmer against the vagaries of the climate. It opens up the possibility of multiple cropping. It considerably enhances the employment potential of the land. (And it almost doubles the productivity of individual crops).

Costs of irrigation are difficult to work out because there is large variation from area to area. For peninsular India, where irrigation costs are relatively higher, Irrigation Commission in 1972 estimated the cost of irrigating one hectare to be roughly equivalent to the price of a quintal of foodgrains (NCAR, Vol. 1, p. 437), which would give a return of 5 quintals of foodgrain. On the other hand, as discussed earlier to bring one hectare of crop under HYV costs 2-3 quintals of foodgrains, and the return expected is about 10 quintals. Thus,'in terms of economic efficiency, irrigation competes well with HYV cultivation. The possibility of developing this alternative also existed as according to NCA
estimates, our country has enough water resources to irrigate 110 mha of crops, whereas,in 1965-66, the year before HYV crop was launched, the gross irrigated area was32.2mha.

Since mid sixties, some additional irrigation facilities have of course been generated. But it has been seen as only one of the inputs in the HYV Technology and the stress has been on providing more irrigation in those areas which already had irrigation and had adopted new technology. This is obvious from the fact that of the additional 10mha of foodgrain crops brought under irrigation between 1963-64 and 1975-76, 7.73 mha went to the major HYV crop, and only 1.44 mha to the vaster rice crops {Table 3). Besides, the massive schemes of modern irrigation being launched in India has proved to be problematic in various respects.

However, one can conceive of alternative strategies for irrigation. In our country irrigation has traditionally been the responsibility of the community and the state. Traditionally, non-conventional ways of generating irrigation using community labour and locally available materials have been used. Such a system of irrigation would be cheaper. More important, it could benefit small and marginal farmers—put their agriculture on sound, footing instead of making it economically unviable as the Green Revolution technology has done. Such an irrigation will make all the difference between prosperity and hunger, between a living thriving culture and stagnation.

Access of labour to land

Besides irrigation, the other major prerequisite of traditional agriculture is labour. Productivity of this type of agriculture depends largely upon the amount of labour that the farmer is willing to or is capable of putting in. This fact is confirmed by the well-known observation that almost everywhere in the Third World, small farms, even farms of size less than one hectare, on 'which labour is necessarily intense, are able to obtain much higher productivities than larger farms. The first series of form management studies carried out in (1954-57 (NCAR, Vol.1, Appendix 4.1) brought out the fact that the difference between the gross output per hectare of the smallest and largest size groups was always Jmore than 30%,, except in U. P. and Maharastra (Akola and Amravati districts), where the districts studied were largely under cash crops, and in Orissa where the productivity was rather low irrespective of the size. In Tamil Nadu (Salem and Coimbatore) the difference was as large as 170%, in Maharastra (Nasik) 109%, in 'Andhra Pradesh (West Godavari District) and Punjab (Ferozepu and Amritsar) around 40%. Similar data on other Third World countries. (eg. Indonesia, Thailand, Taiwan etc.) is available in Keith Griffin (1979). That the smaller holdings were able to utilize the available resources much better, is also clear from data found in 1971 Agriculture Census quoted in NCAR, Vol, 1, Table 4.1 and 4.2 (see table 4). Out of 33.8 mha commanded by holdings less than 2ha, 30mha was sown, 7.7 mha of it more than once, giving a cropping intensity of 125. Holdings of size less than one hectare, fared even better with cropping intensities of 134 and 123 respectively for unirrigated and irrigated land, while holdings of size greater than 10ha sowed, achieved cropping intensity of only 109. Another study carried out at the ANS Institute for the Kosi Command Area in Bihar (Prasad 1972, quoted in NCAR, - Vol.11, pp 37-38) shows the following. On introduction of irrigation, whereas large " farms (greater than 8ha) irrigated, during Rabi season, only 26.5% of the area irrigated during Kharif, this ratio was 102.5% for small forms in size group 0-8 ha. Yet, according to the 1971 census, the most wasteful of farmers (of size greater than 10ha) commanded 30% of the total area, whereas small efficient farms (with operational holding less than half the average size) commanded only 9% of the total area.

TABLE 4

Size-wise Distribution of Area

Size Group

Number of
Operational
Holdings
(millions)

Area
(mha)

Net Area
Sown
(mha)

Gross Area
Sown
(mha)

0-1 ha

35.68

14.54

13.00

16.93

1-2 ha

13.43

19.29

17.01

20.81

2-4 ha

10.68

30.00

20.25

31.33

4-10ha

7.93

48.23

40.93

46.72

>10ha

2.77

50.07

38.64

42.26

Total

70.49

162.13

135.83

158.05


What is therefore urgently needed is land-reforms. Land to the tiller would not only result in an increase in agricultural production, but also the increase will benefit the small farmers, who need it most. The Green Revolution technology, however, is changing all this . The small farms are being made commercially unviable, whereas,. the larger farms, with access to this technology are producing more and earning profits. With the new technology, "Land to the tiller" may not be capable of contributing to increase in productivity. The demand is losing force.

However, if the objectives are to improve the livelihood of our people, improving the access of labour to the land by redressing this skewed distribution through land reforms, and improving the availability of water, clearly offered a vast potential for a green Revolution by making commercial cultivation with new technology economically more' viable (at the cost of subsidies and price supports) seems to have partially neutralized the advantage of the small farms. Thus in Punjab (Ferozepur) whole the farms above 20.0 ha showed the lowest gross out put per hectare of all sizes in 1954-57, in 1957-70, farms of 24.0 ha and above showed the highest output of all sizes. However, in most of the country the small farms still retain their advantage (NCAR, Vol. 1, 431).widespread and genuinely revolutionary improvement in agricultural production and productivity.

This was an obvious alternative to the Green Revolution driven by a new, expensive and elitist technology. In fact the existence of this alternative is well known to -g anyone who has any know. edge of agriculture. The National Commission on Agriculture (1974) itself had recognized that small farms as a class are more efficient units of production compared to large farms when considered from the point of view of productivity and employment potential.' It had also recognized that providing water to these small farms, 'would have by and large solved their problems'. If inspite of that a choice was made in favour of a technology that improved the fate of only already surplus farmers arid yet did not accelerate agricultural growth, then it can only be surmised that solving the problems of small farmers was not the most important policy-objective. That in a commercial society, the 'point of view of productivity and [employment potential is not the correct point of view.

By bringing out the viability of the non-technological alternative, we do not wish to imply that in agriculture no technological change will ever be required-But it seems that technological changes which will emerge from well-fed farmers with a view to improve their own lot will have to be qualitatively different from the technological [changes advocated by elite practitioner of the Baconian science of control with [a view to commercial viability. The analysis above makes us agree with Lappe and Collins (1977) that, 'Once it is manipulated by people, nature loses ' its neutrality. Elite research institutes will produce seeds that work perfectly well for a privileged class of commercial farmers. Genetic research that involves ordinary farmers will produce seeds that are useful to them' (p. 123). And also, perhaps, a Genetic .Science that incorporates their view of nature'. But then ordinary farmers in traditional cultures have been carrying out such research for centuries.



Author: J. K. Bajaj

Note:

* An early British observer of Indian agriculture. Col. Alexander Walker, noted the following about agriculture in Malabar in 1820: 'in Malabar the knowledge of Husbandry seems as ancient as their History. It is the favorite employment of the inhabitants. It is endeared to them by their mode of life, and the property which they possess in the soil. It is a theme for their writers ; it is subject on which they delight to converse and with which all ranks profess to be acquainted... (Walker, 1820),

* For Gandhi, these were also the symbols of a resurgent India, of an India
made free' again through the independence of its agriculture and its villages.

* The revenues extracted from India after the Battle of Plassey have been recognized to be of critical importance in setting in motion the Industrial Revolution, by many observers. For details and references to some of the authors who have commented upon it, see R. P. Dutt (T940), p. 116-119.

* Both Dutt R.. P. (1940) and Dutt R. C. (1970) give a detailed account of this destruction. These books also contain detailed references to the historical accounts of this period.

* Though, there seems to be an important qualitative difference between the plunderers that visited India, before, and the Britishers. The earlier robbers, like the notorious Ghazani, looted the surplus accumulated m temples and with the aristocracy, leaving, the life in the villages more or less unaffected. The legalized plunder by Hastings etc., and their hordes,-on the other hand, ravaged every hut in every village.

* (a) Gleaned from NCAR 1976 (Vol. 1, Ch. 3, p. 230-241)

* (b) Estimates of Area and Production of Principal Crops in India, 1978-79 of Economic Statistics. published by the Directorat

* Plan-wise growth rates have been calculated on the basis of triennial averages with the base and last year of each plan as the mid-years, except for the Third and Fourth Plan whan insiead of the triennial periods the years 1964-65 and 1973-74 respectively were taken as the end periods, to avoid including especially bad years at the end.

* 1965-66, being an exceptionally bad year, has been excluded. Source: Table 3.16 of NCAR, 1976, Vol. 1

* All figures refer to triennial averages with the year indicated as the mid year. Units : Area,' in mha. Production in mT, Yield in Kg/ha ** 1963-64, instead of 1965-66, has been chosen in order to avoid including the the two abnormal years 65-66 and 66-67 in the average Source : Various 'issues of 'Estimates of Area and Produclion of Principal Crops in India,' published by the Directorate of Economic Statistics. HYV area is taken from Economic Survey, GOI, 1980-81.

* The process is so expensive that non-vegetarian U.S.S.R., imports about 50 mT
of cereals" every year to raise the domestic availability of foodgrains to about
a ton per capita per year.1 Vegetarian India can feed itself with just about
1/5 of a] ton per capita.

* Triennial [averages based on data in the Economic Survey, GOI, 1980-81.

* Quoted from Ross Kidd and Krishna Kumar (1981). About the aims of the . adult-literacy programme, launched by the World Bank etc., in late sixties, ""** in conjunction with Green Revolution, the authors have the following to say: "The purpose of the new] programme was to cover all aspects of a peasant's life that-would facilitate his initiation into a consumer society; aspects such as agriculture, health, sanitation, fertility and small-scale entrepreneurship..."

* A comparison of data based, on INJSSO crop-cutting experiments for 1970-71 and 1971-72 shows that compared to unirrigated crops, yields of irrigated crops were higher by about 80-95% for paddy and 105-115% for wheat. According to a statistical analysis based on aggregate crop-production in fifties, quoted" in NCAR, the differences in irrigated and unirrigated yields were 1.28 ton/ha and 0.46 ton/ha respectively, for" wheat, and 1.47 ton/ha and 0,47 ton/ha for paddy. Official yardstick for the marginal productivity of irri¬gation is, however, 0.5 ton/ha. (NCAR, Vol 1, 437-438).

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