IMPACT of science on society

VoL XII (1962). N o . 1

Francis Bacon (1561-1626) by Benjamin F A R R I N G T O N

Chemical science and technology in the U S S R by S. I. V O L F K O V T T C H

Social and economic aspects of world Food production by A R N O S T T A U B E R

Art contra science by N . C . N E G R I

I M P A C T of Science on Society quarterly

Annual subscription: [A] $1.75; 9/6 (stg.); 4,50 N F

Per copy: [A] $0.50; 2/6 (stg.); 1,25 N F

A n y of the National Distributors listed at the end of this number will accept subscriptions; rates in currencies other than the above will be supplied on application to the National Distributor in the country concerned. W h e n notifying change of address please enclose last wrapper or envelope.

The articles appearing in Impact ex­press the views of their authors, and not necessarily those of Unesco.

Printed In France by Berger-Levrault, Pari! © Unesco 1962 NS.61/I.42/A

UNITED NATIONS EDUCATIONAL, SCIENTIFIC AND CULTURAL ORGANIZATION Place de Fontenoy, Paris-7e (France)

Contents

Impact, Vol. XII (1962), N o . 1

F R A N C I S B A C O N (1561-1626) by Benjamin F A R R I N G T O N

Francis Bacon's project for a scientific and technological revolution which, under the guidance of the spirit of charity, should transform the conditions of life for all mankind, developed along two lines, political and literary. Their interaction is here examined with special emphasis on the period 1603-09 when his fundamental ideas were fully worked out. He delayed their publication till 1620. Then his political and literary careers cul­minated simultaneously when, as Lord Chancellor of England, he publishedInstauratio Magna.

This article, which commemorates the four-hundredth anniversary of the birth of the great English philosopher, is published in accordance with the decisions adopted by the Executive Board of Unesco concerning the commemoration of the anniversaries of great personalities and events.

CHEMICAL SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGY IN THE USSR by S. I. VOLFKOVITCH

This article briefly outlines the status of the science of chemistry in the USSR, before and after the October Revolution. It spotlights current research, its planning, and rami­fications, and the unity of practice and theory, describes the most important research institutes and laboratories, and indicates the trend and main achievements of chemical science and industry in the USSR and their correlation with other aspects of the national economy.

SOCIAL AND ECONOMIC ASPECTS OF WORLD FOOD PRODUCTION by ARNOST TAUBER

After a critical discussion of Malthusianism and Neo-Malthusianism the author des­cribes the past development of the world population and outlines its probable expansion up to the year 2000. He then shows that great possibilities for increasing agricultural production are offered by the still available land, thanks to which the present area of cultivation could be doubled or even trebled. The author goes on to compare nutritional levels in different parts of the world. To ensure an adequate supply of food products for all countries is not only a question of production, but also of equitable distribution of foodstuffs on an international scale.

The trend towards concentrating and centralizing agricultural production is a general one. There are, however, fundamental differences between the consequences of the various economic and social systems. This question is directly connected with that of agricultural surpluses which are usually only relative.

ART CONTRA SCIENCE by N . C. NEGRI . 61

In this paper, the author discusses in broad terms the sociological ramifications of the impact of science on the creative arts. He analyses the schism between science and the creative arts with reference to the implications of recent developments in the theory of social groups, and concludes that the current antipathy between art and science is largely if not entirely due to an erroneous conception of the nature of science. In view of this he suggests that the solution to the problem lies in liberal education.

C O N T R I B U T O R S T O THIS ISSUE

B. Farrington, 8 DanielPs Walk, Lymington, Hants, England. N . C . Negri, 54 The Grove, St. Margarets-on-Thames, Middlesex, England. Professor ArnoSt Tauber, Ceskoslovenská Akademie Zemëdelskych Véd. Slezská Ul. 7,

Praha 2, Czechoslovakia. Professor S. I. Volfkovitch, Malaia Bronnaia 19, K v . a, Moscow, U S S R .

C O N T E N T S O F P R E C E D I N G ISSUES

Vol. XI (1961), No. 1 Recent developments in animal breeding in hot climates, by J. P. M A U L E . Forestry—a world problem, by K . H . O E D E K O V E N . Arid zones and social changes, by E . W . G O L D I N G . Management in a modern scientific and technological age, by M . Z V E G I N T Z O V .

Vol. X I (1961), N o . 2 The introduction of the metric system, by L . L A N G E V T N . Space-ships on satellite orbits round the earth, by G . V . P E T R O V T T C H . A few aspects of the impacts of automation on society, by J. G A R C I A S A N T E S M A S E S . Exploring the ocean deeps, by L . A . Z E N K E V I T C H .

Vol. X I (1961), N o . 3 Mankind and outer space. The decisive step in the conquest of cosmic space, by E . K . F E D E R O V . General problems confronting computing centres, by R . C O U R A N T . Fish technology and the community, by G . H . O . B U R G E S S . Science and the road traffic problem, by G . C H A R L E S W O R T H .

Vol. X I (1961), N o . 4 The National Science Foundation, by Alan T . W A T E R M A N . Fridtjof Nansen, by Jac. S. W O R M - M Ü L L E R . 1

Insect pest control, by R . D A J O Z .

1. T h e attention of our readers is called to the fact that the first 16 pages of the article on Fridtjof Nansen (from pase 223. 'The spirit of adventure', to page 239. 'Where honour is due*) are reproduced from a text written by Professor Björn Heiland-Hansen, professor of oceanography, w h o was a close friend and collaborator of Fridtjof Nansen. They published together a large monograph on hydrographie problems and carried out extensive research on the interrelation between ocean currents and climatic conditions. Professor Heiland-Hansen was also, from 1945 to 1948. President of the International Union of Geodesy and Geophysics.

FRANCIS B A C O N (1561-1626)

by

BENJAMIN FARRINGTON

Benjamin Farrington, Emeritus Professor of Classics, University College of Swansea, was born in Cork, Ireland, in 1891. He is the author of Science in Antiquity; Greek Science; Science and Politics in the Ancient World ; Head and H a n d in Ancient Greece; Francis Bacon, Philosopher of Industrial Science.

' O U R O W N WORLD AS IT MIGHT BE M A D E '

In the last three hundred years something that is often described as a Baconian revolution has transformed the conditions of life in a large part of the world. T o extend this revolution to the rest of the world is the urgent problem of our time. Yet the change that has taken place would have disappointed Bacon himself. True, he was the great pioneer of the application of science to industry and wrote with glowing enthusiasm of the benefits technology could confer upon mankind. But these benefits would not flow from technology alone but from an active and universal benevolence directed towards mankind as a whole. H e believed himself to be the inhabitant of a spiritual as well as a mate­rial universe. His greatest originality lay in the balance he struck between the two. H e believed that m a n could achieve his highest spiritual level, not by fleeing from the material world but by mastering it. H e never imagined that m a n could live by bread alone. But he also knew that m a n could not live without bread, nor live worthily unless he was as m u c h concerned about his neighbour's bread as about his o w n . His utopia, his New Atlantis, is a true reflection of this ideal. ' Our o w n world as it might be made if w e did our duty by it', to quote the phrase of Bacon's best biographer and commentator, Spedding (Sp. Ill, 122).1

ALBERT SCHWEITZER ON FRANCIS BACON

T o understand this great m a n is worth an effort because he has had more than his share of misunderstanding. This is not the place to dwell on ancient quarrels; but the harsh judgements of the past survive into the present day and can still make him the target of a most ungenerous assessment. Take this,

1. All the references marked Sp. are to the edition of Bacon's works In fourteen volumes by Spedding and Ellis. 1857-74.

3

Francis Bacon

for example, from Albert Schweitzer. 'The spirit of the modern age', he justly observes, ' is not the work of any one great thinker. It wins its way gradually by reason of the unbroken series of triumphs w o n by discovery and invention. Hence it is not a result of chance that an almost unphilosophic and moreover somewhat worm-eaten personality like Francis Bacon is the m a n w h o drafts the programme of the modern world-view.' Here the just estimate of Bacon's historical role ('the m a n w h o drafts the programme of the modern world-view') combines oddly with the hostile tradition as to the personal character of the m a n . 1

B A C O N ' S P H I L O S O P H I C A L L I M I T A T I O N S

Let us begin, however, by making some admissions. There is a sense in which Bacon m a y be called unphilosophic. H e finished at the university too young to have received a systematic philosophical formation; and, though he made up for this by later studies, he was already out of patience with traditional philosophy because of his youthful disgust at its inability to produce practical works for the benefit of the life of m a n . H e therefore approached the study polemically; sought evidence rather of what philosophy could not do than what it had done; and in his philanthropic and reforming zeal for an active philosophy of works sought to discredit the traditional teaching by summary and brusque arguments which often damaged his o w n cause by their manifest unfairness.

HIS SCIENTIFIC W E A K N E S S

Moreover there is a sense in which he was unscientific. H e was too ignorant to understand the role which mathematics was playing in his o w n day in the creation of the exact sciences, and failed to appreciate the significance of the work of Galileo, Kepler, Stevin, Napier, Porta, Ghetaldus, and others. Even the scientists most accessible to him, like Harvey and Gilbert, receive scant acknowledgement. For his o w n philosophy of works he foresaw the need of a steady co-ordinated advance along a broad front, resting on data accumulated not only in the laboratory but in the age-old tradition of the arts and crafts. This was, indeed, one of his most original and profound insights. But for this very reason he feared the tendency of specialists, like Gilbert, to speculate about the fundamental laws of the universe in terms of the knowledge gathered in one field.

1. Albert Schweitzer, Philosophy of Civilisation, Part. 11. p. 64.

4

Francis Bacon

W H Y HE SOUGHT A POLITICAL CAREER

So m u c h for his intellectual limitations. As for his moral character, it did not emerge unscathed from his political career. But it is a mistake to ascribe his involvement in politics to personal ambition. The attainment of some high office was the right and proper path to his goal. His great project, he always insisted, was 'not an opinion to be held but a work to be done'. H e intended a practical reform and took the appropriate steps to carry it through. His ambition was to transform English life by a radical change in its cultural pat­tern. H e would have been only half the m a n he was had he not sought the power to effect his reform. His choice of a political career was not even a mis­judgement, though he himself sometimes thought so. H e delayed the composi­tion and publication of his Great Instauration until he was Lord Chancellor of England and nearly 60 years of age. But w h o can measure h o w m u c h of its immense impact was due to the exalted position of its author? True, he was disappointed of his hope of presiding personally over the initiation of his reform. But when his project did take shape after his death, it issued, as he had hoped, in a great institution, under royal patronage, committed to experi­ment not to speculation, and profoundly imbued with the spirit of public service. The Royal Society, both in itself and in the m a n y institutions for which it served as a model, was a monument to the public life as well as to the literary achievement of Francis Bacon.

BACON'S FATHER

Reform of education as a means to reform of society was a tradition in Bacon's family, and the path to this goal was through the holding of high office, not through the writing of books. Sir Nicholas Bacon, the father of Francis, had been, as the expression goes, one of the chief pillars of the realm under Henry VIII and in the early years of the reign of Elizabeth. As such he had been taken into consultation by Henry on plans for a new type of university. The main ideas are preserved in a paper, Queen Elizabeth's Academy, prepared for Elizabeth by Sir Humphrey Gilbert about 1570. They envisage a Uni­versity of London in which, together with languages ancient and modern, science and technology were to have a prominent place. Research as well as teaching was insisted upon. The declared intention of the inclusion of science and technology was to make the young gentlemen of the realm, w h o m Sir Humphrey declared he found 'good for nothing', 'good for somewhat'. Francis Bacon was thus the favourite son of a prominent minister of the crown w h o had discussed with his monarch plans for a reform of education intended to meet the needs of the times by making better provision for science and technology. It is not surprising, then, that he should have pondered such plans himself, nor that he should all his life have clung to the idea that the

5

Francis Bacon

best chance of introducing his reform was as a minister of the crown. This was all the more natural in the special circumstances of the English crown. Henry's successful claim to supremacy of the Church had carried with it also headship of the educational system. The English monarch, as Francis Bacon was to remind James I, had become a real trismegistus, uniting in his single person the triple supremacy over State, Church, and University.

' O P U S R E G I U M A U T P A P A L E '

These considerations explain why Bacon commonly referred to his project as king's business, regium opus. They also explain w h y , when he was discussing his plans with a continental correspondent where English conditions did not hold, he altered the phrase to regium aut papaie (Sp. X I V , 531). For Bacon always thought of his project administratively rather than academically. H e was always aware of its religious, political, and social implications; aware also of the kind of opposition it was likely to encounter from every quarter. The solidity of his thinking, the philosophical quality of his thought, resides in the universality of his mind. In the Advancement of Learning, where he is discuss­ing the defects of existing knowledge, he carefully defines the kind of wisdom he thinks necessary for the success of his project. ' A just story of learning, containing the antiquities and originals of knowledge, and their sects; their inventions, their traditions; their diverse administrations and managings; their flourishings, their oppositions, decays, depressions, oblivions, removes; with the causes and occasions of them, and all other events concerning learning throughout the ages of the world ; I m a y truly affirm to be wanting. The use and end of which work I do not so m u c h desire for curiosity, or satisfaction of those that are lovers of learning; but chiefly for a more grave and serious purpose, which is this in few words, that it will m a k e learned m e n wise in the use and administration of learning' (Sp. Ill, 330). The use and administration of learning are an essential part of Bacon's theme. H e sees learning in its relation to the whole of society. H e naturally thinks of someone in supreme authority, be it king or pope, as the agent of his reform. For this reason no mere academic yardstick will suffice to measure Bacon. H e took, as it were, a statesman's view of his subject. Whatever he wrote in support or exposition of it was subordinate to a plan of action which moved on another than a literary plane.

BACON IN PARLIAMENT

This plan of action is plainly visible throughout the whole course of his life. H e was still little more than a boy when he glimpsed the vision which was to dominate his life—the dream of a new kind of natural philosophy which would be productive of works for the benefit of the life of m a n . But it was in no way in conflict with his dedication to this high purpose that he began his apprentice-

6

Francis Bacon

ship to public life in his 'teens by accompanying to Paris the English ambas­sador to the French court. Returning to England after an absence of two years he completed his law studies and then entered parliament at the age of 24, sitting subsequently in every parliament of Elizabeth's reign. About the time of his entering parliament he committed to writing the first draft of his projected reform. It bore what he afterwards called the boastful title of The Greatest Birth of Time (Temporis Partus Maximus) (Sp. X I V , 532). Though the writing has not survived there is no doubt of the nature of its contents. It was the first shot in a campaign which, as yet, was political rather than literary.

HE SEEKS THE SUPPORT OF THE QUEEN

This is plain from what followed. Another 12 years went by before Bacon, at the age of 36, took the first step in his literary career with the publication of a slim volume of Essays. Meanwhile the political struggle to implement his project was actively pursued. W e find him appealing to his powerful uncle, Lord Burleigh, for a post in the government. H e explained to him his educa­tional ambitions. H e wanted, he said, to break the hold on men ' s minds of two false philosophies, scholasticism and alchemy, and in their place ' to bring in industrious observations, grounded conclusions, and profitable inventions and discoveries'. T o this end he sought a post of some responsibility which would give him ' c o m m a n d of wits and pens'. The precise meaning of this request is made more clear in two approaches Bacon m a d e to the Queen herself. In the first he pointed out to her the failure of the current philosophy ' to make us richer by one poor invention', and again mocked the pretentions of scholas­ticism and alchemy. In the second he went so far as to specify the kind of ins­titutions he thought should be set up in the interests of his new philosophy. These were a research library, a botanical garden and zoo, a m u s e u m of note­worthy inventions, and a well-equipped laboratory. But the Queen would not listen. W h e n she died in 1603 Bacon was 42 years of age. H e had published nothing connected with his project, and m u c h doubted whether he had not been mistaken in devoting so m u c h time to politics. The next few years, which are of crucial interest in his mental development, show him trying to make up for lost time.

LATE START OF HIS LITERARY CAREER

This period, virtually the beginning of his literary activity, lasted from 1603 to 1609, that is from his forty-second to his forty-eighth year. Perhaps it is no exaggeration to say that it is a chapter, not only in the intellectual history of Francis Bacon, but in that of the world. Yet Bacon did not find it easy to secure a hearing, and the difficulties he experienced are eloquent of the prejudices that had to be overcome. Neither did he find it so easy as he perhaps expected to

7

Francis Bacon

present a convincing case. Consequently he was compelled again and again to rethink his position, and so deepen and refine his thoughts. Once the writings of this period are considered as a group and arranged so far as possible in their order of composition, their tentative and exploratory character becomes clear and w e have the sensation of accompanying Bacon through an intellectual crisis. F r o m it he emerges m u c h strengthened in his convictions though still more deeply impressed with the difficulties of what w e n o w call the problem of communication.

UNFINISHED AND UNPUBLISHED WRITINGS

These conclusions emerge at once from a classification of the writings. During the years 1603 and 1604 Bacon began m a n y writings and finished none. His inability to finish anything is apparently due to the rapid evolution of his ideas and to his conviction that he had no public ready to receive them. Accor­dingly in 1605 he wrote and published The Advancement of Learning, a justly famous work, but of which he was himself to say later that it consisted of ' a mixture of new and old' because he was afraid that the new unmixed would 'flie too high' over m e n ' s heads. It is, then, in the fragmentary writings, which were not published till after his death, that w e find the unreserved expression of his views. These w e shall consider in a moment .

Then in the years 1607 and 1608 he completed two small works, Thoughts and Conclusions (Cogitata et Visa) and Refutation of Philosophies (Redargutio Philosophiarum). These he circulated among his friends and, discouraged by their reception, decided not to publish. Instead in 1609 he brought out The Wisdom of the Ancients (De Sapientia Veterum), a brilliant book, but again a mixture of new and old. Here again it is to the unpublished works of the two preceding years that w e must look for the unvarnished expression of his opinions. From these sources, then, which, whether finished or unfinished, were not published till after his death, w e get a picture of the development of Bacon's thought which is unobtainable in any other way . In attempting an outline of this development I shall not bother with all the confusing Latin titles, which hopelessly tax the m e m o r y by their resemblance to one another, but shall give references to the various volumes of Spedding's edition of the collected works for the benefit of anyone w h o m a y wish to consult the source.

AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL FRAGMENT

W e m a y begin appropriately with an autobiographical fragment designed as an introduction to a work On the Interpretation of Nature (Sp. Ill, 518-20; X , 84-7). Here we learn that Francis Bacon 'believed himself born for the service of mankind ' ; that the special service he judged himself fit to render was the discovery of ' n e w arts, endowments, and commodities for the bettering

8

Frascin Bacon

of man's life ' ; that he thought the career of an inventor far nobler than that of a statesman, since it touched the life of all mankind, not only one's own country; that he had allowed himself to be deflected into politics in the hope that 'if he rose to any place of honour in the State, he would have a larger command of industry and ability to help him in his work' ; and, finally, that he had n o w been disappointed in this hope and was therefore resolved to try what good he could do by himself alone.

' T H E M A S C U L I N E B I R T H O F T I M E '

In this m o o d he turned to the expression of his ideas in writing and, after an interval of 18 years, began to treat again the subject he had first handled as a young member of parliament under the title of The Greatest Birth of Time (Temporis Partus Maximus). But now the 'boastful' title is changed for one more modest and more significant. The new work is called The Masculine Birth of Time (Temporis Partus Musculus), the word Masculus being under­stood in the sense of active, productive, generative. This fragment is among the most personally revealing of all Bacon's writings. It indicates plainly the religious and ethical sense in which his philosophy was conceived; and, while his thoughts are still imperfectly developed, his emotions are expressed with incomparable force and eloquence.

THE RELIEF OF MAN'S ESTATE

The work bears the sub-title of The Great Instauration of the Dominion of Man over the Universe, a reminiscence of the promise of dominion given by the Creator to A d a m . This theological conception remained with Bacon throughout his life, and is expressed in the title also of his masterpiece, Ins-tauratio Magna, published at the age of 59, when he was Lord Chancellor. The work is introduced by a prayer to God the Father, G o d the Word , G o d the Spirit, that 'mindful of the miseries of the h u m a n race and this our mortal pilgrimage in which we wear out evil days and few, H e would send down upon us new streams from the fountain of His mercy for the relief of our distress '. In the body of the work he speaks of the prevailing philosophy as ' this uni­versal madness'. H e proclaims for himself as 'his only earthly wish' the en­deavour 'to stretch the deplorably narrow limits of man's dominion over the universe to their promised bounds'. In order to accomplish this end he tells the reader 'I propose to unite you with things themselves in a chaste, holy, and legal wedlock; from which association you will secure an increase beyond all the hopes and prayers of ordinary marriages, to wit, a blessed race of Heroes or Supermen, w h o will overcome the immeasurable helplessness and poverty of the human race, which cause it more destruction than all giants, monsters, or tyrants, and will make you peaceful, happy, prosperous, and secure. '

9

Francis Bacon

BACON AND THOMAS MORE

This determination to overcome the helplessness and poverty of the h u m a n race was no new thing in the England of Bacon. It had already found superb literary expression in the Utopia of T h o m a s More . W h a t is all important, however, to notice, is that Bacon had no faith at all in the tentative suggestion of More that the solution might lie in the equal distribution of property. This Christian communism found many expressions in the sermons of the age. The thought is ready also to Shakespeare's hand. W h e n King Lear's eyes are opened by his o w n misfortunes to the condition of the poor :

Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, H o w shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides, Your loop'd and windowed raggedness defend you From seasons such as these? O I have ta'en Too little care of this. . .

the solution of Utopia presents itself both to him and Gloster :

So distribution should undo excess, A n d each m a n have enough.

But the fallacy of this solution was apparent to Bacon. H e was under no illu­sion that distribution would give each m a n enough. The communism of the early Church was in his eyes no answer to the needs of the h u m a n race. H e attempts a radically n e w interpretation of the Christian duty of charity. H e sees in the technological revolution which was taking place all about him a means to a m u c h more active, manly, and thorough-going conquest of poverty and he brings this within the compass of the Christian dispensation by his doctrine of The Great Instauration of Man's Dominion over the Universe. This was the fulfilment of G o d ' s promise to A d a m . This was The Masculine Birth of Time. It is little wonder that in his burning enthusiasm for this conception Bacon treats the older philosophical tradition with scant ceremony. The Mas­culine Birth of Time has shocked and offended many readers by the violence of its attack on many of the greatest names, ancient, medieval, and modern, in the history of thought; and it must be conceded that its judgements are often unfair. But what needs to be understood is that Bacon's revolt against the tradition of philosophy was primarily moral and only incidentally intellectual. H e was not quarrelling with the strength of its logic but with its helplessness, and indifference, in face of the sufferings of mankind.

PSYCHOLOGICAL OBSTACLES TO KNOWLEDGE

Bacon, however, was himself dissatisfied with the quality of the polemic against individuals employed by him in The Masculine Birth of Time. In the writings that follow he advances to a highly original analysis of the psycho-

10

Francis Bacon

logical and sociological obstacles to the creation of a genuine science of nature. This analysis is later taken up into the body of The Great Instauration and is one of the features which give it its high place in the history of thought. The psychological analysis is given in his famous doctrine of Idols. This shows h o w the quest for a genuine science of nature has been frustrated (a) by the limitations of h u m a n nature itself (the Idols of the Tribe), (b) by the consti­tution and circumstances of each individual (the Idols of the Cave), (c) by the necessity of expressing our scientific conceptions in the vague and superficial currency of everyday speech (the Idols of the Market-place), and (d) by the prestige of a long tradition of thinkers w h o have written with great intellectual brilliance on an inadequate foundation of fact (the Idols of the Theatre). Finally the psychological passes over into a sociological analysis when Bacon proposes to consider ' the impediments to knowledge which have been in the nature of society and the policies of States ' and advances the view ' that there is no composition of State or society, nor order or quality of persons, which has not some point of contrariety towards true knowledge '. (For these develop­ments see Valerius Terminus, Sp. Ill, 199-252.) Out of this line of thought rose Bacon's demand in the Advancement for ' a just history of learning', to which w e have already referred.

LIMITATIONS OF GREEK SCIENCE

Henceforth Bacon thinks less of the defects of individuals and lays the main stress on the character of whole periods of thought. In his Thoughts on the Nature of Things (Sp. Ill, 15-35) he draws attention to the negligence of Greek philosophy as a whole to inquire into the latent motion and moving principles of things ' as if a m a n should make it his business to anatomise the corpse of nature without inquiry into her living faculties and powers'. H e insists that if w e are seeking to control nature we can get no help from the old Greek notions of Privation and F o r m , the Attraction of Like to Like, Strife and Friendship, and so forth. ' These generalities are mere phantoms that float upon the surface of things. They contribute nothing to enrich mankind or increase the number of his possessions. They merely inflate the imagination without helping towards the accomplishment of works'. But h o w is this deficiency of ancient science to be overcome? In his Thoughts on Human Knowledge (Sp. Ill, 183-92) he suggests the answer. W e need a new kind of natural history in which the mechanical arts, hitherto despised, must play the leading role.

REVALUATION OF THE MECHANICAL ARTS

F r o m this brief analysis it should be clear that in the fragmentary writings of 1603 and 1604 Bacon had already arrived at m a n y of the insights which were to receive classic formulation in The Great Instauration of 1620. H e had already come to see that contempt for the mechanical arts, the yawning gap

11

Francis Bacon

between theory and practice, was the main historical cause for the poverty and wretchedness in which the mass of mankind, even in civilized countries, still lived. H e saw also that the main psychological obstacle to the creation of a new science productive of works lay in the immense pride of the educated classes in their traditional philosophy in spite of, or even because of, its prac­tical uselessness. The overcoming of this universal madness was the question that principally occupied his head and heart. In spite of certain expressions which taken in isolation might suggest the contrary, he did not believe that a technological revolution was possible without the creation of a genuine theo­retical science (he reserved a fundamental role for the active theoretical work of the truly creative mind) nor that increased wealth would benefit mankind unless it were governed by the spirit of brotherly love of which he found the highest expression in the Judaeo-Christian tradition (the spiritual virtues always held pre-eminence over the intellectual in his scheme of things). His task, as he conceived it, thus became to transform the conscience of Christendom in such a way as to m a k e it despise the theological disputes about the next world, which had rent it asunder, and exalt to the first place a genuine science of this world for the benefit of all m e n everywhere. It is not surprising that his awareness of the vast scope of this enterprise and the innumerable obstacles to its reali­zation should have induced in him a feeling of both inadequacy and caution. H e decided to leave on one side for the m o m e n t the unguarded expression of his views, which in any case were only partially clear to himself, and to c o m ­promise by the publication of a more conventional book, the Advancement, which might serve both to lend authority to his n a m e (as a writer he was still virtually unknown) and to prepare a public for the reception of his complete programme w h e n the time was ripe. Then, as soon as the Advancement was out of the way, he applied himself to the composition of two short works in finished style, giving full and unequivocal expression to his views, for circulation a m o n g m e n whose judgement he respected. Finding their attitude on the whole unfavourable he suppressed these writings also. They, like the fragmentary writings w e have already discussed, did not appear till some time after his death. These two little books are Thoughts and Conclusions (1607) and Refuta­tion of Philosophies (1608), to which we m a y n o w turn.

'THOUGHTS AND CONCLUSIONS'

In Thoughts and Conclusions (Sp. Ill, 587-620) the mature figure of the histo­rical Francis Bacon, the m a n w h o 'drafted the programme of the modern world', stands before us for the first time. A s might be expected it bears the familiar sub-title, On the Interpretation of Nature or A Science Productive of Works. It is the latter phrase, of course, that defines its modernity. For more than two thousand years, from Anaximander to Telesius, European civiliza­tion had given birth to treatises On the Nature of Things, but this was the first

12

Francis Bacon

such treatise which could also be described as a Science Productive of Works. A s Bacon himself put it in his discussion of Telesius: ' T h e traditional philo­sophy of things might be accepted as a probable account, if man himself did not exist nor any of the mechanical arts by which he transforms nature, and if w e could be content simply to regard nature as a spectacle. A s things are, this placid and leisurely contemplation of the universe deserves only the name of pastoral philosophy' (Sp. Ill, 110; V , 490-1).

Stylistically Thoughts and Conclusions is an interesting work. It is written throughout in the third person, beginning with the announcement 'Francis Bacon thought thus' and then proceeding through a series of 19 meditations to each of which is appended a brief conclusion. This plan has a certain modesty about it in that Bacon, after the initial statement, is able to avoid any other mention of his name . It also has, like the Commentaries of Julius Caesar, a certain consciousness of power, as if the thoughts of the one, like the acts of the other, were from the first a part of history. I shall n o w attempt briefly to summarize some of his thoughts and conclusions.

H e begins with a reflection on the rudimentary state of h u m a n knowledge and practice. The physicians pronounce m a n y diseases incurable, and often fail to cure the rest. The alchemists grow old and die in the fond embraces of their illusion. The magicians produce some surprises but no solid results. The mechanics do gradually enlarge the humble w e b woven by experience but are incapable of theory. Chance originates some fine discoveries but only spora­dically and at long intervals. H e concludes that what w e owe to invention is still rudimentary, that new discoveries are to be expected only in the lapse of centuries, and that none of the discoveries so far made has been due to phi­losophy.

H e then seeks to account for the immobility of the sciences and finds one reason in the faulty method of presentation. They are dressed up for the public view in such a way as to suggest that they have already reached their full development. A few treatises, not always even chosen from the best authorities, come to be accepted as the final statement on their subject. They are used to enslave belief rather than provoke criticism. In short, a blighting authority precludes research, and the whole scientific process has become a succession of teachers and pupils instead of inventors and improvers of inventions.

O f all the sciences none has suffered worse neglect than natural philosophy. It has only superficially engaged the attention of m e n . U p to the present no single individual has made a profession of it in the sense of devoting his whole life to it. W h e n w e consider the few w h o cultivate it, the haste with which they give it up, and the unpreparedness of their minds, w e m a y say that natural philosophy has been completely neglected. This has disastrous consequences for the whole of learning. All arts and sciences, if severed from their root in natural philosophy, though they m a y still be polished and shaped, lose the power of growth.

13

Francis Bacon

Apart from neglect, natural philosophy finds a troublesome and intractable foe in superstition and blind, immoderate religious zeal. The Schoolmen have subjected it to harsh constraint, while attempting to reduce theology to the form of a manual and to incorporate the quarrelsome philosophy of Aristotle into the body of religion. The Christian Platonists are just as bad. They have attempted to create an amalgam of natural philosophy with revelation. But natural philosophy is only in its infancy, and by tying it to theology all fresh growth, additions, and improvements are excluded more obstinately than ever before.

Another obstacle to the growth of the sciences exists in the administration of academies, colleges, and other seats of learning. There the lectures are so managed that the last thing anybody would be likely to entertain is an original thought. O n e w h o allows himself freedom of inquiry or independence of jud­gement soon finds himself isolated. If he survives this, when he comes to choose a career, he finds his enthusiasm and non-conformity a great obstacle. T h e authorities ought to be able to distinguish between intellectual and political innovation, but are not. Studies are confined to the works of a limited n u m b e r of authorities; a m a n w h o contradicts them or raises awkward questions is censured as a disturbing and revolutionary influence.

Again natural philosophy, especially where it is active or productive of works, encounters the most determined hostility. There is in the h u m a n mind a bias, implanted by nature and fostered by education, against submitting the mind to facts. This proud pernicious prejudice asserts that the majesty of the h u m a n mind is impaired if it employs itself m u c h or long with experiments or particulars, which are subject to the senses and bounded by matter. Such things, it is said, are troublesome to investigate, ignoble to ponder, repellent to discuss, illiberal to practice, infinite in number, trifling in their minuteness, and, for all these reasons, little likely to enhance the glory of the arts. But the fact is that this quarrel with particulars and this divorce of the mind from expe­rience have thrown the whole h u m a n family into chaos.

But the time has c o m e for m a n to lift himself out of his despair and put an end to his lamentations. H e must decide once for all whether to rest content with his present situation or m a k e a serious effort to improve his lot. The first step to this end is to set up in a clear view the worthiness and excellence of the end proposed and so kindle greater enthusiasm for hard work on an exacting task. It m a y help us to m a k e our choice if w e distinguish three kinds of ambition. The first, which is hardly worthy of the n a m e , belongs to m e n w h o restlessly seek to augment their personal power in their o w n country. This is a vulgai and degenerate sort. The second is of those w h o seek to advance the position of their o w n country in the world; and this m a y be allowed to have in it m o r e worth and less selfishness. The third is of those whose endeavour is to restore and increase the power and dominion of m a n himself, that is, of the whole h u m a n race, over the universe. Surely this is nobler and holier than the former

14

Francis Bacon

two. N o w the dominion of m a n over nature rests only on knowledge. His power of action is limited by what he knows. N o force avails to break the chain of natural causation. Nature cannot be conquered but by obeying her.

'It m a y be', Bacon says, concluding his main theme, 'that there are m e n on whose ear m y frequent and honourable mention of practical works makes a harsh and dissonant sound because they are wholly given over in love and reverence to contemplation. Let them bethink themselves that they are the enemies of their o w n desires. In natural philosophy practical results are not only the means to improve well-being but the guarantee of truth. The rule of religion, that a m a n should show his faith by his works, holds good in natural philosophy too. Science also must be known by works. It is by the witness of works, rather than by logic or even by observation, that truth is revealed and established. Whence it follows that the improvement of man ' s mind and the improvement of his lot are one and the same thing. '

Summary of Bacon's programme

It is n o w clear what the essence of Bacon's programme was. 1. H e defined the goal of natural philosophy as the creation of a new science

capable of producing works for the benefit of the life of m a n and the relief of man ' s estate.

2. H e taught that this end could only be achieved if science became a publicly endowed, democratically planned and organized pursuit, designed, to quote a phrase of his own , 'to add by open and steady toil to the sum of inventions worthy of the human race '.

3. H e rightly insisted that this was something never previously attempted, that it was a new birth of time with potentialities unimaginably great for the future of mankind. The whole of his criticism of older philosophers and schools turns only on this point.

4. H e offered this programme to his country and to the world as a genuine reform of Christianity, a legitimate interpretation of the Old Covenant and the N e w . G o d by promising A d a m dominion over all creatures had Himself authorized an active rather than a contemplative philosophy; by sending His Son to proclaim a gospel of love H e had revealed the only moral law under which the power over nature given by science could be successfully used in the service of m a n .

5. The new philosophy was for all mankind. The noblest and holiest ambition was ' to restore and exalt the power and dominion of m a n himself, of the h u m a n race as such, over the universe'. The difference between highly civilized and backward races, to quote him again, was 'the effect not of soil, not of climate, not of physical constitution, but of the arts'. Henceforth the whole of Bacon's literary activity was devoted to the one purpose of working out the details of this programme and of winning acceptance for it.

15

Francis Bacon

He fails to win support

It was for this reason that Bacon circulated his Thoughts and Conclusions privately among his circle of friends. H e got some support, but the experience was on the whole discouraging. The answer of Sir Thomas Bodley, founder of the library which bears his name, is extant. ' Y o u are not able', he assures Bacon, ' to empanel a substantial jury in any university that will give you a verdict to acquit you of error.' Bacon decided not to publish, influenced, we must suppose, not so much by Bodley's disapproval as by the fact, made plain throughout the whole of his long letter, that he had been quite unable to grasp what Bacon had in mind. Accordingly Bacon put Thoughts and Conclusions on one side and made another attempt to achieve an acceptable statement of his views.

'REFUTATION OF PHILOSOPHIES'

The Refutation of Philosophies, while in substance covering m u c h the same ground as Thoughts and Conclusions, introduces important new ideas and is, as a composition, totally different in character. Whereas before w e were pre­sented with something like the Commentaries, or Note-Books, of Julius Caesar, n o w we have a dramatic dialogue in the manner of Plato. The setting is lacking neither in charm nor significance. Bacon represents himself as sitting lost in perplexity over the problem of h o w best to present his ideas when he is plea­santly interrupted by the entrance of a friend w h o had just returned from France. ' W h e n w e had exchanged greetings and personal news, "Tell m e " , said he, "what you are writing in the intervals of public business, or at least when business is less pressing." "Your enquiry is timely", said I, "for, just in case you think I have nothing on hand, I a m planning an Instauration of Phi­losophy, in which there will be nothing empty or abstract but only what will serve to improve the conditions of h u m a n life." " A noble task", said he. " W h o are your helpers?" " Y o u must k n o w " , I replied, "that I a m working in complete isolation." "That is a hard lot", said he, and immediately added, "But take it from m e there are others w h o share your concern." Filled with joy I exclaimed, " Y o u have restored m e to life. I had come to believe m y child would perish of neglect in the wilderness." "Well", said he, "would you like m e to tell you an experience I had in France?" '

Before we hear of his friend's experience in France it will be well to dwell for a moment on the nature of Bacon's perplexity and the reason for his com­plete isolation. W h y had Sir Thomas Bodley been unable to understand what he had in mind? The explanation resides in the completeness of the break Bacon sought to make with the past. H e is attempting a refutation, not of any parti­cular philosophy, but of all philosophies, and does not know h o w or where to begin. It would, he maintains, be wrong in principle and beneath the dignity

16

Francis Bacon

of his proposal to attempt a refutation of particular opinions of particular phi­losophers, for Bacon has no quarrel with their arguments. The difficulty is that he and they share no c o m m o n ground. They neither share his goal, which is the relief of man ' s estate, nor his method, which rests on the patient accumu­lation of facts. H e has no wish to engage in logical disputation on their ground ; nor can he refute them by producing a new philosophy of his o w n . H e has no philosophy. His whole point is that the information has not yet been gathered on which a true philosophy could be based. N o r does Bacon think that either he, or any one m a n , could possibly gather it. Instead he seeks to persuade the world of the inadequacy, the irrelevance, of the old philosophy; and what he has to offer in exchange is not a n e w philosophy but merely the indication of a means by which a new philosophy might be constructed. H e wishes to persuade his o w n countrymen or, in default of them, any kindred souls in Europe, that it is worth while making a prolonged, organized, systematic effort to assemble a body of information about nature on which the structure of science could be erected.

'EXPERIENTIA LITERATA'

This proposed collection of factual material Bacon designated by the name of an Encyclopedia of Nature and the Arts. H e was aware, of course, of the ency­clopedias of antiquity and their more recent imitations. H e knew of Aristotle's History of Animals and Theophrastus's History of Plants. H e knew also of the encyclopedias of Dioscorides and Pliny and that they were not devoid of interest in practical applications. But he had in mind something so m u c h more comprehensive and purposeful that he was entitled to regard it as quite new in kind. H e designed to construct ' a true path from sense to intellect', and to find this he had to go back to the point where the speculative natural philo­sophy of the Greeks had separated itself off from the mechanical arts. H e proposed to heal the breach between Theory and Practice, to use Palissy's terms, with which no doubt he had become familiar during his stay at the French court. H e noted that all h u m a n society later than the food-gathering stage depended for its very existence on mechanical arts which were handed on by apprenticeship and were innocent of the art of writing. But this stage had been recently transcended in the writings of such m e n as Biringuccio, Agricola, and Palissy, in which the materials and instruments and procedures of mining, metallurgy, and enamelling were set d o w n in detail. Bacon desired the extension of this practice to all the more important arts and the digestion of this material into a encyclopedia in which the information derived from the existing arts should be classified according to the various sciences. This vast process, for which he anticipated the need of m a n y helpers, he called experientia literata, that is 'recorded experience' or 'educated practice', the reduction to writing (or rather to print) of the practical experience of the h u m a n race in so far as

17

Francis Bacon

its proved validity had raised it to the level of an art. But he did not rest at this, which might be called the technological, stage of his plan. O n this foun­dation he wished to erect a genuine philosophy of nature. This would be done by advancing from experiments of fruit to experiments of light. The culmination of this process would be the discovery of the Forms, or Principles, or highest Axioms, or, as he also liked to say, the divine signature on things. Here theory and practice would be united, knowledge and power would be one, m a n would have recovered his promised dominion over the universe.

In order to clear the ground for this programme a work of demolition was necessary. M e n had to be forced to come to an understanding once for all of the character of the philosophical tradition. This tradition had its origin in Greece, had imparted a tincture of culture to R o m e , had been assimilated by the Arabs, had been incorporated by the Schoolmen into the body of Christian theology, had been m u c h in favour with the Humanists, and still held pride of place in the university culture of the England of the Reformation. Its prestige was thus immense. But, so far as Bacon could see, it never had and never could give rise to such a philosophy of nature as would enable m a n to exercise domi­nion over it. A s he himself put it in his Parasceve (Sp. I, 394) : ' If all the wits of all the ages had met or should hereafter meet together; if the whole h u m a n race had applied or should hereafter apply itself to philosophy; if the whole earth had been or should become nothing but academies and colleges and schools of learned m e n ; still without such a natural and experimental history as I a m going to describe, no progress worthy of the h u m a n race could have been made or could be made in philosophy and the sciences. O n the other hand, let such a history be once provided and well set forth, and let there be added to it such auxiliary and light-giving experiments as in the very course of the inter­pretation will present themselves or be sought out; and the investigation of nature and of all the sciences will be the work of a few years. This therefore must be done or the business must be given up. For in this way, and in this way only, can the foundations of a true and active philosophy be established ; and then m e n will wake as from a deep sleep, and at once perceive what a diffe­rence there is between the dogmas and figments of the wit and a true and active philosophy, and what it means in questions of nature to consult nature herself. '

THE DOCTRINE OF SIGNS

Hence the need for a refutation of philosophies. But this could not be accom­plished by a detailed attack on particular doctrines—a proceeding both pointless and interminable. W h a t was needed was a convincing demonstration of the irrelevance of the philosophic tradition to the programme of a conquest over nature. This demonstration Bacon seeks to provide by ar historically based characterization of the philosophical tradition as a whole. H e is not primarily

18

Francis Bacon

concerned with its internal logic; he examines its origin, historical role, and present state to judge its fitness to provide a basis for his philosophy of works. This he effects by his doctrine of 'signs', by which he means distinguishing marks or historical characteristics. This doctrine of signs, which completes the psychological and sociological analysis already developed in the doctrine of idols, is the principal feature of the Refutation of Philosophies. The signs of the unfitness of the traditional philosophy for Bacon's purpose were : 1. Its origin in Greece, the Greeks being notoriously talkers rather than

doers. 2. The limitations of the historical and geographical knowledge of the Greeks,

their political wisdom resting on short historical perspective and their knowledge of the world being confined to the Mediterranean region.

3. The patent fact that their most esteemed intellects, Aristotle and Plato, though their individual powers were unmatched, could not transcend the limitations of their race and age.

4. The equally plain historical fact that no important practical invention or discovery can be fairly ascribed to philosophy.

5. The stagnation of the philosophical tradition, the greatest names being the earliest and the contribution of later ages being virtually confined to c o m ­mentary and exposition, with the result that the wisdom of humanity is in practice m a d e to appear as the patrimony of some six men—Aristotlev Plato, Hippocrates, Galen, Euclid and Ptolemy. 6. The scepticism as to man ' s power prevalent in the later schools, which

amounts to a self-confessed helplessness in the face of nature. The Refutation of Philosophies, as w e have said, is a dramatic piece. It repre­sents Bacon as perplexed and isolated in the effort to win support for his views when a visitor enters with cheering news from France. The news is of an assembly in Paris at which was gathered a distinguished company of about fifty m e n of mature age and great dignity, statesmen, senators, churchmen, m e n of various ranks and professions with a sprinkling of distinguished representatives of foreign countries. They are obviously expecting someone to address them. The speaker, when he enters, proves to be well k n o w n to his audience, a m a n affable and serious, with 'a countenance habituated to the expression of pity ', w h o ' takes a seat on a level with his audience ' and addresses them with m u c h wit, passion, and eloquence on the theme of the deficiencies of the traditional philosophy and the need for a philosophy of works. The speaker, of course, like the Stranger in Plato's Laws, is but the mouthpiece of the author; but the dramatic form makes it possible for Bacon to indicate both the motive of compassion in his proposal (' he had a countenance habituated to the expression of pity') and the essential humility of his plea ('he took a seat on a level with his audience'). The brilliant polemic against the traditional philosophy which follows, in which is developed the doctrine of 'signs', is thus robbed of all animosity against the older thinkers except in so far as the

19

Francis Bacon

prestige of their teaching operates as an obstacle to all co-operative effort to improve the conditions of h u m a n life.

The speech is notable also for the elaborate, and it m a y be added, topical, image which Bacon employs to illustrate the advantages of a combined effort of many workers utilizing scientific methods over the individually brilliant, but unorganized and misapplied exertions of the older speculative thinkers. A m o n g the spectacular engineering feats in the Europe of Bacon's time special promi­nence attached to the achievement of Domenico Fontana (1543-1607). Between 1586 and 1589 he erected four great obelisks in R o m e , the scene of the erection of the Vatican obelisk being represented in fresco in the Vatican Library and the method being described by himself in a special treatise. It is by reference to this famous recent feat of engineering that Bacon makes the speaker in the Refutation of Philosophies illustrate his seventh and last 'sign'. 'It remains to treat of the most certain of all signs. This is the method employed in any under­taking. The result exists potentially in the method, and the worth of the effect will be determined by the correctness of the method. N o w if the methods fol­lowed in the constitution of your philosophy were not the right ones, if they cannot pass the test, obviously your trust in the result will be betrayed. Let us imagine that some enormous obelisk had to be moved to grace a triumph or for some other occasion of splendour. N o w , suppose the attempt was m a d e with the unaided hands, would you not think this m a d ? Suppose then that the contractors increased the number of individual workers and hoped to succeed in this way, would you not think them madder still? Let us suppose next that they held a review and cast out the weaker labourers and relied only on the strong and vigorous, and that, being no better off than before, they took counsel of the art of athletics and refused to let any worker join in before his hands, arms, and sinews had been well oiled and exercised by the trainers. W o u l d you not protest that they were resolved on persisting in their madness on a planned and rational basis? It is a similar demented zeal that has inspired our intellectual efforts. M e n apply their unaided intellect to the task. From the mere number or quality of minds engaged they hope great things. By dialectic, the athletic training of the mind, they seek to strengthen their mental sinews. But they do not bring in machines to multiply and co-ordinate their individual efforts. D u e aids are not provided for the mind and nature is studied without due attention. H o w can w e deny it? Does founding a philosophy involve nothing more than coming to hasty conclusions on nature in the light of a few superficial and commonplace experiments and then spending whole ages meditating on these results? I had not supposed that we were on such familiar terms with nature that, in response to a casual and perfunctory salutation, she would condescend to unveil her mysteries and bestow on us her blessings. '

The Refutation of Philosophies seems to have met with no more encouraging reception a m o n g Bacon's acquaintance than had Thoughts and Conclusions and he left it to be published after his death. But to the modern student it

20

Francis Bacon

reveals the fact that Bacon had n o w , at the age of 47 in the year 1608, fully matured his thoughts. The psychological, sociological, and historical insights which constitute the brilliance of the first book of the Novum Organum had all n o w been achieved in the Doctrine of Idols and the Doctrine of Signs; in the demand for an Encyclopedia of Nature and the Arts and for a new and broader-based Induction; in the proposal for the institutionalization of science with special libraries, museums, and laboratories ; and in the general and all-embra­cing plea that science should become a co-operative public effort to improve natural knowledge with a view to raising the standard of h u m a n life. It it seems surprising, then, that he should resign himself to suppressing his writings for the time being, this is only because the patience of his strategy and the comprehensiveness of his design has not been fully understood. For Bacon his programme was ' a work to be done', and if he could not pursue it by one means he did so by another.

Thus, in his private diary w e find, in this year 1608, record of his design to get himself appointed to the headship of one of the colleges in the universities of Oxford or Cambridge or to the same position in one of the great public schools, with a view to transforming it into a centre of scientific and technolo­gical research. W h e n , about the same time, the new king, James I, suddenly began to advance him rapidly, he was of course more absorbed in public affairs, but he did not on that account let slip any opportunity to advance the most serious purpose of his life. H e began a treatise on the True Greatness of the Kingdom of Britain. In it he discloses his conviction that the philosophical revolution at which he aimed implied also the economic and social evolution of Britain in a sense which he defined in these words : ' Those states are least able to defray great charges for wars or for other public disbursements, whose wealth resteth chiefly in the hands of the nobility and gentlemen. . . . Contrary it is of such states whose wealth resteth in the hands of merchants, burghers, tradesmen, freeholders, farmers in the country, and the like. ' A n d he recom­mends a state of society in which ' wealth is dispersed in m a n y hands, and not engrossed into few; and those hands not m u c h of the nobility, but most and generally of inferior conditions' (Sp. VII, 60, 61). A s for the kind of charity which consists in the disposal by individuals, according to their private fancy, of vast sums accumulated in the course of a life devoted to commerce and industry—of the true and lasting worth of such charity he had grave doubts. Such persons were little likely to understand the public need. Bacon tells the King that he would prefer a kind of charity 'whereby that mass of wealth, that was in the owner little better than a stack or heap of muck , m a y be spread over your kingdom to m a n y fruitful purposes' (Sp. X I , 254). A just society was Bacons's aim.

Francis Bacon

THE GREAT INSTITUTION

Finally, w h e n he had at last completed his toilsome climb to high office in the State and had emerged as Lord Chancellor, Bacon at once seized the oppor­tunity to publish all his unpublished opinions in that repository of his slowly matured wisdom, Francisci de Verulamio, Summi Angliae Cancellarli, Institutio Magna (1620). N o longer need he fear that the obscurity of the author or the lowliness of his position would interfere with the success of his plea. A strong, confident, authoritative voice n o w delivered a message which, within a few decades, was to be heard round the world : ' I would address one general a d m o ­nition to all, that they consider what are the true ends of knowledge, and that they seek it not either for pleasure of the mind, or for contention, or for supe­riority over others, or for profit, or fame, or power, or for any of these inferior things ; but for the benefit and use of life ; and that they perfect and govern it in charity. For it was from lust of power that the angels fell, from lust of knowledge that m e n fell; but of charity there can be no excess, neither did angel or m a n ever come in danger by it.

' O f myself I have no wish to speak. But in behalf of the business which is in hand I entreat m e n to believe that it is not an opinion to be held, but a woyk to be done ; and to be well assured that I a m labouring to lay the foundation, not of any school of thought, but of h u m a n utility and power. I ask them, then, to deal fairly by their o w n interests; to lay aside all spirit of emulation, all prejudice in favour of this opinion or ofthat, and to join forces for the c o m m o n good. If by m y help and guidance m e n have been freed from the errors and obstacles of the way, it is for them to c o m e forward themselves and take their share in the labours that remain' (Sp. IV, 20, 21).

I have not sought in this article to enter into the details of Francis Bacon's proposals for the improvement of scientific induction but to tell the story of the way in which he surmounted his m a n y difficulties and succeeded in the end in uttering his great appeal to the humanity and commonsense of mankind. His appeal was not unheeded. In Germany , in 1652, what is n o w called the Leopoldina Academy came into existence in answer to his call. The Royal Institution of London followed 10 years later. Soon in most of the capitals of Europe the printing presses and academies were propagating his thoughts. The scientific and technological revolution was gathering speed, but to govern it in charity has proved a harder task.

22

CHEMICAL SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGY IN THE USSR

by

S. I. VOLFKOVITCH

S. I. Volfkovitch, Regular Member of the USSR Academy of Sciences and professor at the University of Moscow, is a specialist in inorganic chemistry and industrial chemistry. He has perfected numerous methods of producing mineral fertilizers, salts and other chemical compounds, and has for many years been one of the organizers and directors of the Scientific Institute for Fertilizers and Insectofungicides. He is also the founder of numerous branches of the chemical industry.

The 'chemicalization' of the national economy of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics has assumed the same vital importance as electrification and mecha­nization. The term 'chemicalization' first made its appearance in the Russian language about 35 years ago, soon after the term 'electrification', when after the October Revolution electrification became of enormous importance as a powerful means of shifting the national economy on to a new technical basis in which heavy industry played the leading part.

In the U S S R , chemicalization means the introduction of chemistry, of chemical methods and processes into the various branches of the national economy. Obviously, the putting into effect of chemicalization presupposes the existence of well-developed chemical science and technology. Before the Revolution, only a handful of outstanding chemists—teachers and engineers —were working in Russia, and the large-scale chemical industry hardly existed. M a n y chemical works depended on imported raw materials, and were run by foreign technical and supervisory staff. At that time there were no specialized educational or research institutions for chemistry at all.

In sharp contrast to this unsatisfactory general position, however, was the excellent work carried out by m a n y Russian scientists, w h o , by their outstand­ing work, discoveries, and research, made a great contribution to world science and received world-wide recognition. Leading figures among the Russian chemists were: Lomonosov, Zinin, Butlerov, Mendeleev, Kurnakov, Bach, Zelinsky, and other.

Before the October Revolution, there were only three academicians specia­lizing in chemistry in the Russian Academy of Sciences, and the entire chemical laboratory facilities were housed in one small building at St. Petersburg.

After the Revolution, which marked the beginning of a sharp increase in the production resources of the country, great prospects for development opened up before Soviet chemical science and technology. At the present time, the

23

Chemical science and technology in the USSR

Soviet Union has m a n y tens of thousands of chemists w h o have received higher education. There are over eighty higher schools specializing in chemistry or other institutions of higher education with a chemical faculty. Hundreds of scientific research institutes and laboratories are carrying out chemical research in various fields of science and technology. The enormous Soviet chemical industry which has been reconstructed makes wide use of the achievements of Soviet chemical science. The U S S R Academy of Sciences includes 14 chemical institutes with m a n y thousands of scientific workers and multi-million budgets, to say nothing of the large chemical departments of m a n y other institutes. In addition, there are chemical institutes under the 14 Academies of Sciences of the Soviet Republics.

It is particularly noteworthy that chemical science has also been developed in remote areas of the country, where scientific research institutes, laboratories, and higher educational institutions have been set up. The chemical industry of the Soviet Union includes several dozen scientific research institutes and hundreds of factory laboratories ; m a n y of the latter carry out research at a high level.

Several dozen chemical journals are published in the Soviet Union, and every year hundreds of books on chemistry and related subjects are brought out.

A s a result of the general rise in the cultural level of the nation, and in particular of the introduction of universal secondary education, chemistry, from being the preserve of a small circle of cognoscenti, has become a science familiar to the broad mass of the people, w h o see in it the means of making use of natural riches and raising the standard of living of the nation as a whole.

At present, Soviet chemical science possesses the creative potential and personnel to solve any scientific and technical problems which it m a y be set.

The natural resources of raw materials and power, and the level of chemical engineering, are n o w such as to permit the development of the chemical indus­try on an unlimited scale.

Progress in chemical science and technology is having an enormous and ever-increasing influence on every aspect of the life of the country. In M a y 1958, the Soviet Government decided to speed up considerably the develop­ment of the chemical industry—particularly those sections engaged in the pro­duction of synthetic materials such as polymers, mineral fertilizers, and m a n y other products. M a n y milliards of roubles have been allocated for the building of n e w chemical works and institutes in the next few years.

Soviet chemistry is continuing and developing the best traditions of the pre-Revolutionary Russian chemists. Like all science and technology in the U S S R , chemistry serves the interests of the nation, helping to improve the standard of living, health, and cultural level of the people.

A s early as 1918, Lenin wrote in his Outline of a Plan for Scientific and

24

Chemical science and technology in the USSR

Technical Activity: 'The Supreme Soviet for the National Economy should, without delay, give the Academy of Sciences, which has already begun the systematic study and investigation of Russia's natural productive resources, the task of forming a series of specialist committees in order to draw up a plan as quickly as possible for the reorganization of industry and the economic development of Russia.'

A Scientific and Technical Section was organized under the Supreme Soviet for the National Economy in 1918, and from the very beginning this section worked on the organization of new scientific research institutes and labora­tories.

Between 1918 and 1920 the first large chemical scientific research institutes were established (the ' L . Y . Karpov' physical and chemical institute, the State Institute of Applied Chemistry, the Scientific Institute for Fertilizers, and so on). These institutions played an important part in the scientific and tech­nical groundwork for the building-up of a great chemical industry and the training of scientific research workers. In 1918 the Institute of Physico-Chemical Analysis, directed by Academician N . S. Kurnakov, and the Institute of Pla­tinum and Precious Metals, directed by Professor L . A . Chugaev, were set up under the auspices of the U S S R Academy of Sciences. A s time went on, the setting-up of scientific research institutes and laboratories proceeded on a large scale : in some cases, n e w scientific institutions of a more specialized type branched off from the original parent institutions, while in other cases, the interests of the original institutions changed and became wider in scope. This resulted in the emergence of institutions dealing with inorganic chemistry; organic chemistry; physical chemistry; chemical physics; elementary-organic compounds; natural compounds; analytical chemistry; electrochemistry; radiochemistry; synthetic petroleum chemistry, intermediates and dyestuffs; nitrogen; pharmaceutical chemistry, and m a n y others. In addition, there are m a n y laboratories attached to the chemistry departments of higher educa­tional establishments and factories.

A n important factor in the training of chemists was the organization in m a n y towns of institutes of chemical technology, the setting-up of chemical faculties in the universities, and the wide development of secondary chemical education in 'technicums' and specialized secondary schools.

The close connexion between chemical science and industry was clearly demonstrated, as early as 1928, in the communication addressed by a large group of chemists to the Soviet Government regarding help in the development of chemical science and technology and the use of chemistry in industry, agri­culture, public health, and other branches of the national economy.

In answer to the chemists' appeal, the Soviet Government lost no time in issuing a decree on the setting-up of a Committee for the Chemicalization of the National Economy, attached to the Council of People's Commissars of the U S S R . This decree stated : ' The primary task of the Committee is the detailed

25

Chemical science and technology in the USSR

scientific, technical and economic examination and solution of the following problems: the most efficient use and development of home-produced raw materials; the exploitation of the achievements of modern chemistry in the various branches of industrial production—municipal building, transport, public health, and so on; the organization of the agricultural fertilizer and insecticide and fungicide industries; the setting-up of a potash industry; the further development of the organic dyestuffs industry; the complete reorgani­zation of the coal tar chemical industry; the industrialization of the w o o d chemical industry; the investigation and m a x i m u m development of the rare elements industry; study of the basic problems of the modern synthetic che­mical industry (synthetic rubber, benzine, and oil fuels, synthetic esters, and so on), and the development of the production of chemically pure reagents and laboratory equipment in the U S S R . '

In order to deal with the development of the chemical industry, a special ministry for the chemical industry of the U S S R was formed in 1939, and a few years ago this ministry was converted into the State Committee on Chemistry of the Council of Ministers of the U S S R .

Thus it was that, in a short space of time, the Soviet Union was able to develop great reserves of raw materials and set up a huge chemical industry operating on the most modern lines.

Soviet science is characterized by its high degree of planning and the w a y in which research subjects are chosen with a view to the improvement of the country's economic position and culture and the raising of the people's stan­dard of living.

The necessity of planing scientific work was not immediately and generally recognized. S o m e scientists thought at first that the establishment of one-year, five-year, and other plans might be prejudicial to the creative initiative of scientific workers. It soon became obvious, however, that a clear purpose and the planning of scientific research work for relatively long periods ahead did not in any w a y hinder individual initiative and bold creative projects, but increased the efficiency and speed of scientific work, particularly on the major problems affecting the future of the country.

The planning of scientific research work is carried out with the active col­laboration of large numbers of scientists, engineers, and production experts. This broad, collective discussion and formation of plans ensures that urgent problems are dealt with, and that resources are duly mobilized to solve them.

Another characteristic feature of Soviet scientific research work is its 'inter­disciplinary' approach to a problem or objective by various methods and from various points of view. Thus , for exemple, in the consideration of ways of making use of natural resources, the investigation covered raw materials, their

26

Chemical science and technology in the USSR

chemical and technological treatment, and the use of the products thus obtained in the national economy. This comprehensive approach presupposes a close link between scientific research and the technical and economic analysis of its results, and the co-ordination of any particular branch of science with other related branches—for example, the linking of chemistry with physics, biology, geology, and other subjects—as well as the planning of research in such a way as to take into account the demands of future planning and the construction of new factories.

In order to gain a complete picture of problems and to relate scientific research as closely as possible to production conditions, m a n y scientific research institutes have planning and design offices, experimental factories, stations and fields, clinics, various workshops and other facilities.

Another characteristic feature of a great m a n y research projects is team­work.

The collective execution of scientific work is faster and considerably more efficient than individual work. ' The voice of one m a n is the voice of no one ' is the slogan of modern large-scale science. In practice, scientific investigations are carried out in a very large number of cases by teams, commissions, groups, and co-ordinated scientific councils which deal with problems requiring the collaboration of specialists in several different branches of science. Very often, such collective w o r k is carried out not only by scientists but also by practical production workers, including m a n y young people.

The fact that all scientific work in the U S S R is carried out by State organiza­tions, and not in private laboratories, gives it a great sense of direction and purpose. T h e total absence of harmful competition and pressure from private interests, and the great material facilities which the State is able to give scien­tists and engineers for the planning, fitting-out, and construction of n e w under­takings open u p enormous possibilities to creative workers.

A s a result of the close link between science and industry and the great importance which is attached to theoretical work, there are extensive oppor­tunities for the development of science, and a large number of advanced, exploratory investigations are carried out. In addition to the creative develop­ment of accepted methods, m a n y completely n e w ideas and procedures are emerging and developing rapidly in the U S S R .

T h e close link between chemical science and industry makes it easier to use the discoveries of scientific research in the national economy. This is also facilitated by the large-scale construction of semi-industrial and pilot esta­blishments for the study and testing of n e w technical processes and improve­ments of existing processes. In the large industrial research institutes there are special test factories, together with planning and design offices, various workshops, and ancillary services.

27

Chemical science and technology in the USSR

The scientific research institutes and laboratories dealing with chemical subjects which have been set up in the Soviet Union fall, generally speaking, into the following four classes : 1

Institutes specializing in different branches of chemical science. Examples of this class are the institutes of organic chemistry, general and inorganic chemistry, physical chemistry, electrochemistry, the chemistry of silicates, and so on. A large proportion of the institutes and laboratories attached to academies of sciences and higher educational institutions belong to this class.

Institutes specializing in various branches of the national economy. Examples are the institutes of synthetic petroleum chemistry, non-ferrous metals, plastics, artificial fibres, w o o d pulp chemistry, intermediates and dyestuffs, and so on. The majority of the industrial, agricultural, and public health institutes and laboratories belong to this class.

Institutes working on research methods and production processes. Examples are the institutes for high pressure, gas purification, colloidal chemistry, analytical chemistry, automatic control of production processes, and so on.

Comprehensive institutes. These institutes carry out investigations on a number of different subjects and processes in order to solve general problems. In addi­tion to chemical departments, m a n y such institutes include non-chemical laboratories and départements such as geological, mineralogical, mining, mechanical engineering, botanical, agronomical, and other departments, Examples of this class are the institutes for mineral raw materials ; fertilizers, insecticides and fungicides; pharmaceutical chemistry, etc. For instance, the institute of pharmaceutical chemistry not only has laboratories for organic synthesis, pharmacology, vegetable raw materials, physical chemistry, analysis, chemotherapy, microbiology, technology, study of materials, and so on, but also has a design section and an experimental factory, and is able to use various medical clinics for testing n e w preparations.

S o m e institutes deal with both scientific research and planning and design: that is to say, in addition to experimental work, they carry out planning and design work for the construction of new factories, machines, apparatus, and experimental installations. At the same time these institutes also m a k e the relevant economic studies.

Soviet chemical science and technology has been successful in solving m a n y problems of the national economy. A n example of a project carried out on

1. Obviously, this classification is somewhat arbitrary, and some institutes m a y well fit into several classes.

28

Chemical science and technology in the USSR

the special orders of the authorities, which demonstrates most strikingly the unity of theory and practice, is the production of synthetic rubber by S. V . Lebedev's method.

A s is well known, Russian chemists such as Kondakov, Ostromyslensky, Favorsky, and others had carried out laboratory investigations, mainly theore­tical, on the synthesis of rubber long before the first world war. At that time, however, this work did not result in substances of very good quality, or a sufficient yield of rubber to m a k e it an economical proposition. The results of research carried out in other countries were also unsatisfactory. Owing to the uneconomic nature of the process, the experimental production of synthetic rubber from dimethylbutadiene, which had been carried on in Germany in wartime, was discontinued after the war.1

In 1926, the Supreme Soviet for the National Economy of the U S S R announced an international competition for the best method of making syn­thetic rubber. According to the terms of the competition, the inventor, as well as describing the method of production of the substance and providing a plan for a factory installation for its production, had to provide a sample of the substance weighing not less than 2 kilograms. The process description and samples of divinyl rubber made from ethyl alcohol submitted by S. V . Lebedev on 30 December 1927, were adjudged by the jury to satisfy the conditions of the competition, and Lebedev was awarded the prize. In 1930-31, the first synthetic rubber factory using Lebedev's process began operating. The inventor, together with his students and colleagues, took part not only in the laboratory work, but also in the actual production at the factory.

Thus a n e w and complicated chemical manufacture based on catalytic gas reactions at high temperatures and requiring special equipment was introduced into Soviet industry in a short space of time. Success was due in a large measure to the concerted work of research chemists with engineers, designers, and technicians, and to the strong support given by the Government to this work.

In the years that followed, Soviet chemists worked hard to increase the yield of synthetic rubber and the efficiency of utilization of the raw materials, and each year the process became more economical. A number of large fac­tories designed to apply Lebedev's method in the U S S R and in other coun­tries were later constructed.

In the last few years, in the Soviet Union as in many other countries, large teams of scientists have been working on the production of synthetic rubbers, and have so far successfully developed about twenty types of synthetic rubber, including rubber from butane, petroleum gases, acetylene, and other forms of raw material. The quality has been improved continually and the cost reduced.

1. This work was based to a large extent on the work of Kondakov.

29

Chemical science and technology in the USSR

A few more examples m a y be given of the w a y in which the theoretical work of Soviet scientists has been the forerunner of great industrial achievements.

For example, A . E . Favorsky's classic research on the chemistry of acetylene has been carried on brilliantly by his students and colleagues working on the intramolecular rearrangement of unsaturated hydrocarbons, which is closely linked with the production of various giant-molecule compounds such as rubber, plastics, g u m s , and with the production of acetic acid, alcohols, and other substances (work carried out by N . I. Nazarov, S. N . Danilov, and others).

In 1935, B . L . Moldavsky, of the State High Pressure Institute, discovered the reaction for the catalytic aromatization of paraffin hydrocarbons, which made it possible to bridge the gap between the aliphatic series and the aromatic series, thus making it possible to obtain the latter from oil. In the years following this discovery, great developments were m a d e along these lines in petroleum chemistry, making it possible to obtain m a n y important products.

The important theoretical work of N . D . Zelinsky, B . A . Kazansky, and other scientists in the field of petroleum chemistry was also closely linked with industry, and provided the basis for the development of a number of n e w technical processes.

The theoretical research of P . P . Shorygin, V . A . Kargin, Z . A . Rogovin, and others in the field of giant molecule compounds (particularly cellulose and artificial fibres) played an important part in the development of the Soviet synthetic and artificial fibre industry.

In the last few years, there has been a considerable increase in the Soviet Union in research and experimental industrial work on silicones (work carried out by K . A . Andrianov, B . A . Dolgov, A . D . Petrov, and others) and other forms of organic resins, plastics, ion-exchange substances, and other polymeric substances (work carried out by G . S. Petrov, V . V . Korshak, B . Dolgoplosk, and others).

As a result of the painstaking analytical and synthetic work of Soviet chemists, considerable success has been achieved in the use of m a n y alkaloids. A . P . Orekhov, G . P . Menshikov, S. Yunusov, and others have investigated the alkaloid composition of over a thousand species of plants growing in the Soviet Union, and have discovered about a hundred new alkaloids—over 10 per cent of all those k n o w n up to the present time. M a n y of these n e w alkaloids have been found to possess powerful physiological properties, and are n o w in use for medicinal purposes and for controlling agricultural pests, plant diseases, and household pests.

A striking example of the success of the multi-disciplinary team-work method of scientific research directed towards the improvement of the country's industrial resources, is the discovery and chemical and technical exploitation of apatite-nepheline minerals and many other ores on the Kola Peninsula beyond

30

Chemical science and technology in the USSR

the Arctic Circle. This work was carried out at an unheard-of speed and on an unprecedented scale. W h e n , in the 1930's, the geological and mineralogical expeditions of the U S S R Academy of Sciences, under the leadership of Acade­mician A . E . Fersman, discovered great apatite-nepheline deposits in the Khibiny Mountains, a special scientific research department was set up to deal with the problems arising in the utilization of these ores. This department called upon dozens of scientific research institutes and laboratories, higher educational institutions, planning organizations, factories, and m a n y out­standing specialists for assistance. The department combined and co-ordinated the work of all these organizations and individuals and promoted the laboratory and factory testing and development of the various scientific and technical achievements.

The combined work of the chemists and engineers, co-operating with geologists, mineralogists, mining engineers, economists, and other specialists m a d e it possible, in a very short space of time, to solve successfully the dozens of difficult chemical and technological problems posed by the peculiar com­position, properties, and site of the new forms of raw material, and the absence of any previous experience in the working of such ores. Large-scale theoretical work was carried on at the same time, particularly on geo-chemistry, the physical and chemical bases of new technical processes, and the use of fertilizers in far-northern farming conditions. Great attention was paid to the analysis of the economic aspects of this new chemical technology.

This collective work made it possible to determine the exact conditions for the production of phosphorus, phosphoric acid, superphosphates and double superphosphates, and various mineral salts; and also of aluminium, alkalis, silica gel, cement, chemical compounds from nepheline and other minerals of the Khibiny Mountains.

A number of the production methods developed were first tried out in industry, and at the start were regarded with scepticism by m a n y foreign specialists, some of w h o m expressed, both in print and at international confer­ences, their disbelief that apatite raw material could be chemically processed into superphosphate. Soon, however, Khibiny apatite concentrate gained an excellent reputation not only in Soviet, but also in foreign factories.

In the exploitation of the mineral resources of the Kola Peninsula, it was not only the raw material which was new, but also the natural and economic conditions in which it was mined, and the chemical processing of the ore. With great difficulty, the problems posed by the absence of population and the six month's night of the polar regions were overcome. Within three years, on the basis of the scientific research work carried out, large chemical and metal­lurgical works, scientific research laboratories, experimental factories and stations, and towns with tens of thousands of inhabitants had been built. A branch of the U S S R Academy of Sciences has been set up in the n e w town of Kirovsk.

31

Chemical science and technology in the USSR

Equally fascinating is the story of another showpiece of the Soviet mineral industry—the largest deposits in the world of potassium and magnesium salts, which were discovered in 1925-26 in the northern Urals, in the Solikamsk region. A special commission was set up in 1929, under the chairmanship of the famous Russian chemist, Academician N . S. Kurnakov, for the planning, direction, and co-ordination of the scientific research work associated with this project. Between 1931 and 1933 a huge chemical factory was built for the production of potassium chloride from sylvinite, and later equipment was set up for the processing of carnallite to obtain magnesium and sodium salts and m a n y other products. A s a result of a huge concerted research effort, enormous reserves were built up of potassium salts and a number of processes were developed for the manufacture of various products from these salts.

Through research carried out in collaboration with other specialists, Soviet chemists have discovered and developed new deposits of borax, sodium sul­phate, chromium, manganese, arsenic, barium, fluoride, and other ores. A n enormous amount of work has been done on the development of methods of processing various Soviet raw materials to obtain aluminium. Various methods have been studied and developed for the complex processing of natural silicates of aluminium (nephelines and alunites), coal ashes, and other materials. A special Ail-Union Aluminium and Magnesium Institute was set up for the study of the various problems of raw materials and chemical tech­nology connected with the aluminium and magnesium industry.

The systematic efforts of certain scientific research institutes have opened the way for the development of entire branches of the chemical industry: the fertilizer industries, insecticides and fungicides, fundamental organic synthesis, synthetic rubber and fibres, pharmaceutical, rare elements, and m a n y others.

Achievements in science and technology have m a d e it possible to carry out large-scale industrial experiments on the underground gasification of coal, based on the ideas of the great Russian scientist D . I. Mendeleev. Mendeleev's proposals, which were first m a d e in 1888, were later (1910-15) developed in England by Ramsay, w h o put forward practical suggestions for carrying out this process. At that time, however, the idea of underground gasification of coal attracted no attention, although Lenin had drawn attention to this project as early as 1913. In 1931, a Commission for the Underground Gasification of Coal was set up in the Soviet Union, and large-scale theoretical investigations were started in the U S S R Academy of Sciences and several other scientific institutions, as well as experimental industrial work on the problem in several parts of the country. In these experiments, a number of methods of under­ground gasification were tested, some of which gave interesting results. In addition to continuing scientific research and industrial experiments on the

32

Chemical science and technology in the USSR

underground gasification of coal, a start was m a d e with investigations into the underground gasification of oil and shales. Throughout this work, chemists worked in close co-operation with geologists, mining engineers, designers, and technologists.

A striking and instructive example of the concerted endeavours of chemists and physicists, theoreticians and practical workers, is the research work carried out in the field of radiochemistry and nuclear power, which has deve­loped on a particularly large scale and with outstanding success in the last fifteen to twenty years.

As long ago as 1910, in his speech on 'The problems of the day in the field of radium', delivered to the General Assembly of the A c a d e m y of Sciences, the famous geochemist and mineralogist V . I. Vernadsky said: ' W e are dis­covering sources of energy in comparison with which steam power, electrical power, and the power generated in explosive chemical processes pale into insignificance... w e are n o w discovering, in the phenomena of radioactivity, sources of atomic energy millions of times greater than any previously dreamed of by mankind.' Motivated by the necessity for the m a x i m u m possible develop­ment of scientific research work into the chemistry, physics, and geology of radioactive minerals, V . I. Vernadsky proposed the formation of a Radium Institute for the study of all aspects of the phenomena of radioactivity and their utilization. After the October Revolution (in 1922), such an institute was set up on the basis of the previously existing Radium Commission and Radio­logical Laboratory of the A c a d e m y of Sciences.

In 1921, under the direction of V . G . Khlopin, highly active radium prepa­rations were obtained, and a number of valuable and original experiments were m a d e on the question of the distribution of radioactive material between a crystalline solid phase and a solution.

The Radium Institute, in the person of L . V . Mysovsky, was one of the first in the world to study cosmic rays, at a time when even the existence of such rays was considered doubtful. Another early worker on cosmic rays, D . V . Skobeltsyn, proposed a new and effective method of studying cosmic radiation by means of an ionization chamber and the application of a magnetic field; this method made it possible to detect a number of n e w phenomena connected with cosmic rays. The Soviet scientists K . A . Petrzhak and G . N . Flerov discovered the n e w phenomenon of spontaneous (self-generated) nuclear fission.

In 1938-39, Soviet physical chemists demonstrated by calculation that a relatively small enrichment of the uranium isotope U m 235 would bring about a probability of slow neutron capture sufficient to cause an increase in the neutron flux in the uranium to take place, thus releasing enormous amounts of nuclear energy.

33

Chemical science and technology in the USSR

Present-day achievements in the field of nuclear physics and chemistry are to a large extent based on the periodic law of D . I. Mendeleev. Soviet scientists, building on their achievements in the study of atomic nuclei and elementary particles, are continuing the creative development and use of Mendeleev's periodic law. In the last few years, Soviet chemists and physicists have carried out a number of interesting investigations into the elaboration of the systems of atomic nuclei, the detailed study of the properties of the recently discovered transuranium elements, and the production and utilization of radioactive and stable isotopes. M a n y of these isotopes have proved to be of invaluable assis­tance in medicine, in scientific investigations in geology, plant and animal breeding, and in the control of m a n y production processes in industry, to n a m e but a few of their uses.

In the U S S R , the broad masses of the people are often called in to work side by side with the scientists and engineers on the solution of great industrial problems.

A s a result of the speeding-up of production processes, the improved or­ganization of labour, the improved servicing of equipment, and the use of the latest technical advances production norms which have for years been regarded as representing the m a x i m u m attainable can be rapidly and considerably raised. For example, the average daily yield of sulphuric acid per cubic metre of tower capacity in Soviet sulphuric acid plants was 18 kg. in 1935, about 40 kg. in 1938, and, in the most efficient plants, 100-120 kg. in 1941, whereas of recent years the figure has risen to 200 kg. or more in a number of factories. The production per cubic metre of chamber space in one large superphosphate factory was 85 kg. per hour in 1934, but in 1939, as a result of speeding up the production process, the production had risen to 364 kg. per hour, i.e., four times as m u c h . N o w , however, as a result of the transition to the continuous process for the production of superphosphate, the production per cubic metre of chamber capacity has risen to 800 kg. per hour in m a n y factories. Great success has also been obtained in the speeding-up of the production of synthetic ammonia , sodium carbonate, and m a n y other chemicals.

A n analysis of the main paths along which the development of the basic chemical industries has taken place shows that a most important factor has been the theoretical study of chemical reactions, and in particular of their duration. A s a result of intensive physical, chemical, and technological research, the most favourable conditions for the speeding up of these reactions have been discovered and reproduced in industry. In some industries, the new accelerated processes were first discovered in practice, during production; and only later were they studied in detail, improved, and further developed by means of laboratory investigation.

A n important part in the development of our knowledge of the kinetics

34

Chemical science and technology in the USSR

of chemical reactions was played by the Soviet research group of N . N . Semenov in working out the theory of chain reactions. This work, together with that of the English chemist Hinshelwood, was recognized in 1957 by the award of a Nobel Prize.

The speeding-up of production processes has m a d e it possible to increase the productivity of m a n y factories several fold without making further large capital investments, thus freeing large sums of money and large amounts of materials and labour for new construction.

Soviet chemists have established durable contacts between chemistry and physics, biology, geology, and other sciences, so that a number of 'borderline' sciences connected with chemistry have grown up and developed.

A m o n g the most famous names are those of V . I. Vernadsky—one of the founders of modern geochemistry and biogeochemistry; A . N . Bach—the doyen of Soviet biochemists; N . S. Kurnakov—the leader in the sphere of general chemistry and physico-chemical analysis; D . N . Pryanishnikov—the leader of Soviet agrochemistry, and m a n y others. A . E . Arbuzov and A . N . Nesmeyanov led in the new field of investigation which united organic and inorganic chemistry—the field of the so-called elementary organic compounds. A n important part in the development of the peripheral fields of science and technology which combine physics and chemistry—particularly those of poly­mers and semiconductors—was played by the work of A . F . Ioffe.

Physical chemistry, which has far-reaching ramifications in the theroy of various branches of chemistry and technology, has been developed extremely rapidly and on a very large scale in the U S S R . It also has a growing influence on the development of biology, physics, and m a n y branches of industry.

Reference must be m a d e to the considerable progress m a d e by chemistry in the fields of giant molecule compounds, colloidal chemistry, and surface phenomena. These subjects are of considerable importance in various fields of technology: the mechanical treatment of solids, the production of resins, plastics and fibres, electrolytic processes, the absorption and separation of gases by liquids and solids, the concentration of ores by flotation, and other processes (work done by A . N . Frumkin, P . A . Rebinder, M . M . Dubinin, and others).

This great creative development is also typical of Soviet chemical technology, which has brought to light and solved numerous new problems. A s we cannot possibly list all these problems, let us recall one or two by way of example: the use of oxygen in a number of chemical and metallurgical processes; new thermal, electrochemical, photochemical, and other processes for the produc­tion of organic materials, and the development of new production processes using catalysis, high pressures, extreme cold, and other advanced technological methods.

35

Chemical science and technology in the USSR

O f recent years, large-scale and varied work has been carried out on the investigation, development, and perfection of processes for the production of radioactive isotopes and the development of nuclear technology. Chemist have carried out important research on the problems of electronics and radio (semiconductors), high-speed flight (rocket fuel, oxidants, and so on), and the launching of Earth satellites and space-ships, calling for special materials, fuels, chemical sources of electricity, etc.

A s a result of the rapid increase in the production of oil and natural gas, there has been large-scale development in the U S S R of the production of m a n y synthetic products, both from oil and gas, and from chemically-processed coal and w o o d , of which the U S S R has the largest resources in the world. T h e Soviet Union's enormous natural resources of phosphates, potassium salts, sulphur and other ores, together with the rapid development of electrical power, have m a d e it possible to build huge factories for the production of phosphate, nitrate, potash, and blended fertilizers. Rapid progress is being m a d e in the production of chemicals for plant protection, weed-killing, and defoliation (the chemical removal of the leaves of cotton plants, potatoes and other crops before the mechanical harvesting of the crop). Development is continuing in the production of mineral feeding stuffs, including micro­elements, for livestock. In general, Soviet chemists are steadily extending their researches, and new factories are being built to help raise the standard of agricultural efficiency still further.

Great and ever-increasing attention is being paid by chemists, working with biologists and doctors, to the development of the pharmaceutical industry. Many-sided investigations are being carried out to find means of combating cancer, arterio-sclerosis, tuberculosis, nervous ailments, and m a n y other diseases. Chemists are also seeking ways of avoiding the use of nutritive vege­table and animal raw material in general industry and substituting for these inedible natural or synthetic raw materials. A large number of chemists are also engaged in solving the n e w problems arising in the textile, footwear, glass, pottery, and other branches of industry.

A m o n g the most important questions facing chemical science and technology for the future are the best and fullest use of raw materials and power, the utili­zation of industrial wastes and by-products, and the elimination of harmful effluents and waste gases which pollute waters and atmosphere. It is the pur­pose of socialist industry to render the working environment completely healthy and to protect the natural environment from harmful industrial discharges.

In order to achieve the m a x i m u m utilization of our resources of coal, oil, natural gas, and timber, wider use will be m a d e of the chemical processing of these raw materials so as to obtain both thermal power and valuable chemical products from them. Industrial wastes are often referred to as potential raw material which has not yet found a user.

The continuous development of the chemical industry and the ever-widening

36

Chemical science and technology in the USSR

range of products demand a progressing and highly-developed chemical engi­neering industry. At the same time, important developments are also being m a d e in constructional materials for chemical machinery and plant—witness the ever-widening range of materials which are resistant to chemical, mecha­nical, and thermal stress and wear—metals, silicates, plastics, and other materials—as well as improved methods of protecting metals from corrosion.

With the growth of the chemical industry, the study of the processes and equipment of chemical technology is also expanding. Thanks to socialist organization in the last few years m u c h greater attention has been paid to the automation of production processes and the development of techniques to increase the productivity of labour, m a k e work easier, and improve working conditions. A number of scientific research institutes, laboratories, and design offices are working on these problems in the U S S R . The manufacture of in­struments for the control and automation of production processes is developing rapidly. Research and planning work is being carried out on building c o m ­pletely automated factories in the basic chemical industries, in which physical labour will be done away with completely.

Working, as always, on the solution of practical problems of the national economy, Soviet chemists are carrying out various theoretical investigations, particularly in the field of the theory of the structure and force of reaction of chemical compounds, and are studying the basic laws governing chemical reactions—their mechanism, thermodynamics, and kinetics. M o r e and more research is being carried out on the theory of catalysis and for the discovery of catalysts capable of accelerating the most important chemical processes. In the last few years, research on the structure, physical and chemical proper­ties, and methods of synthesis of giant molecule compounds, and investigation of the relation between their composition, structure, and physical properties have been carried considerably further.

Important and pressing problems face chemists and biologists in connexion with the study of the relation between the composition, structure, and physio­logical properties of various medicinal substances and preparations used in combating plant pests and diseases, weeds, etc.

Theoretical research is developing in the field of analytical chemistry, which has m u c h to do in respect of the rapid and extremely precise determina­tion of the chemical composition of various materials, particularly high-purity elements and their compounds. In these investigations, wide use is being m a d e of the latest physical methods. The detailed study of the physical, chemical, and biological properties of materials and various types of reactions is opening up great n e w possibilities for the use of chemistry in industry, medicine, agri­culture, and the h o m e .

Not long before the October Revolution, the great Russian writer Gorki dreamed of the creation of palaces and cities of science. Reality has gone

37

Chemical science and technology in the USSR

beyond the dream, for in the last few years, not only have palaces and cities of science been built in the Soviet Union, but the whole life of the people has been systematically reconstructed on a scientific basis. This new science serves peaceful, progressive ends: it is making mankind healthier, driving back old age, and creating a secure, fruitful, and happy life for the h u m a n race. In the campaign which science is carrying on for a bright future and an abun­dance of material and power resources for the people, modern chemical science and industry have a leading part to play.

38

SOCIAL AND ECONOMIC ASPECTS OF WORLD FOOD PRODUCTION

by

ARNOST TAUBER

Arnost Tauber is in charge of the section for economic and agrarian problems at the Study and Information Centre of the Czech Aca­demy of Agricultural Sciences. He has been Special Envoy and Minister Plenipotentiary, Vice-Chairman of the Economic Com­mission for Europe (1950-52), Vice-Chairman of the ECE Industry and Materials Committee, delegate at the United Nations General Assemblies, the Economic and Social Council and various interna­tional conferences. Since 1953 he has been lecturer at the Institute of Economic Sciences in Prague.

INTRODUCTION

The question of whether and to what extent our planet is capable of feeding its constantly expanding population has been studied by numerous writers. It has received and continues to receive different answers, depending on whether the author does or does not believe in the creative capacity of mankind and its unlimited possibilities for scientific and technical progress. W e firmly asso­ciate ourselves with those holding the former view.

O u r generation is witnessing an unprecedented development of creative forces under the stimulus of outstanding scientific discoveries; thanks to these forces, m a n can achieve his dream of world conquest. Our generation is convinced that h u m a n genius knows no insurmountable barrier. If m a n is capable of leaving the earth and even, probably in the very near future, of conquering other planets, he is assuredly capable of controlling nature and establishing a system on earth which would ensure not only adequate but even abundant food supplies for all mankind. The tragedy of our age lies in fact in the increasingly disproportionate development of the world's resources. W e are witnessing, on the one hand, unprecedented advances in the fields of science and technology and a vast cultural and material expansion and, on the other hand, w e see the indescribable poverty and hunger of hundreds of millions of h u m a n beings w h o are, it seems, d o o m e d to everlasting poverty.

M a n y economists, agronomists and other so-called experts declare that the rapid growth of population, set against the limited possibilities for expand­ing the area of arable and cultivable land, constitutes the most urgent problem in the world today. They affirm, furthermore, that our means for increasing output have been almost exhausted. These theories are neither new nor original. W h e n Malthus, basing himself on the erroneous theory of a gradual decline in soil productivity, stated in his Essay on the Principle of Population, first

39

Social and economic aspects of world food production

published in 1798, that population increases in a geometrical, food in an arith­metical progression, he could not foresee the tremendous expansion of agricul­tural science, the development of agrology and the advantages of alternating crops, the effect of fertilizers on soil fertility, the development of veterinary medicine, etc. Malthus moreover himself pointed out that the theory of geome­trical and arithmetical progressions was not borne out by the facts. His work is static inasmuch as he considered only one single relation, that between the growth of population and the state of agricultural production in his time. His doctrine that the natural increase of population should be checked was thus clearly an erroneous one and was indeed disproved by the subsequent evolution of the situation, particularly in Europe, on whose population his studies were based. In 1800 Europe had a population in the neighbourhood of 170 million. Within the space of a hundred years this population rose to 400 million and today it stands at almost 575 million, without allowing for the extensive emigration over the last two centuries. During the same period the area of cultivated land has not increased in Europe; on the contrary, it has even decreased as a result of urban expansion, n e w railway lines, roads, etc.

GROWTH OF THE POPULATION OF THE WORLD

For world population figures before the year 1860, w e must rely on very imprecise estimates. According to these estimates, the population of the world had risen from 250 million in the year 0 of our era to 1,250 million by 1860.

Thus almost 2,000 years passed before the population of the world reached 1,250 millions in 1860, whereas it has doubled over the past 100 years, to reach the present total of almost 2,900 millions. It is estimated that the total population of the world will again be doubled over the next 40 years and will have attained approximately 6,280 millions by the year 2000. This rapid growth is clearly illustrated by a comparison between past rates of growth of the world population and a projection of these rates into the future, calculated at 25-year intervals: 1875-1900,19 per cent; 1900-25, 23 per cent; 1950-75,53 per cent (mean estimate) to 54 per cent ( m a x i m u m estimate) ; 1975-2000, 54 per cent (mean estimate) to 79 per cent ( m a x i m u m estimate).

This rapid growth of the world population appears to cause concern to m a n y economists, sociologists, demographers and food experts w h o , disregard­ing the great achievements of modern science, voice the same opinions as did their predecessor Malthus, over 150 years ago. Indeed, they go even further.

But does this neo-Malthusian ideology really derive from humanist consid­erations, does it truly stem from a legitimate concern for the future and well-being of mankind? It is significant that the advocates of this ideology reside in countries whose ruling class feels, with good reason, concerned at the slow rate of increase of their o w n population compared with the high rate of increase of the population of the Asian, African and Latin American countries.

40

Social and economic aspects of world food production

Undoubtedly their views are greatly influenced by fears that they m a y lose their world supremacy. Accordingly, they would d o o m to extinction all those suffering hunger and poverty, on the pretext that they are subject to famine as a result of their supposed biological incapacity. They do not try to discover the real causes of the unequal development of mankind in the different conti­nents and regions, but only strive to maintain the present equilibrium of forces throughout the world. Although the size and density of the population are not the sole factors having an influence on the methods and volume of produc­tion, they nevertheless play a certain part in the economic development of the countries in question. That this interpretation of the true motives of the ideology under consideration is correct is considered by a more detailed analysis of the world population by continents and groups of countries charac­terized by different social systems.

T A B L E 1. Analysis based on mean estimates, of the total world population by major geogra­phical areas (in millions of inhabitants)

£ 2 5 "»» £ & ^ a Asia* Europe« Oceania

1900 1 550 1950 2 497 1975 3 828 2000 6 277

120 199 303 517

1. Excluding the Asiatic part of the U S S R . 2. Including the whole territory of the U S S R .

81 168 240 312

63 163 303 592

857 1 390 2 210 3 870

423 574 751 947

6 13 21 29

Table 1 shows clearly enough the essential differences in population increases in various parts of the world.1 The increase is smallest in Europe and in North America, that is in the areas inhabited by the white race. The most marked increase occurs in South America where the population will by 1975 have expanded by almost 100 per cent over that of 1950. Comparing the probable development of the two American continents w e find that North America, which in 1950 still had 5 million more inhabitants than South America, will in 40 years' time have approximately 280 million fewer. This constitutes, in part, a reply to the neo-Malthusian call for a reduction in the birth rate of the 'inferior' countries.

O f no less interest is the examination of the populations of the different regions expressed as percentages of the total population of the world (see Table 2). It reveals considerable changes operating in favour of Africa, Latin America and Asia and to the detriment of Europe and North America.

1. Tables 1 and 2 are taken from an article by Karel Z e m a n , ' The future growth of the world population' in IMU a Ztmi <Manklnd and the world. N o . 9. November 1960).

41

Social and economic aspects of world food production

T A B L E 2. Changes in the distribution of world population, by region

World (total) Africa North South

America America Asia' Europe 1 Oceania

1900 1950 1975 2000

1. Excluding the Asiatic part of the U S S R . 2. Including the whole territory of the U S S R .

100.0 100.0 100.0 100.0

7.7 8.0 7.9 8.2

5.2 6.7 6.3 5.0

4.1 5.5 7.9 9.4

55.3 55.2 57.7 61.8

27.3 23.0 19.6 15.1

0.4 0.5 0.5 0.5

A classification of the world population by social systems and based on the indices for the year 1957, yields the results shown in Table 3.

T A B L E 3. Distribution of world population by social system

Social Bystem Population (in millions) Percentage

Countries with socialist régimes Highly developed countries with capitalist régimes Economically underdeveloped non-socialist countries

962.1 883.4 924.5

34.3 32.3 33.3

A certain equilibrium still exists between the number of inhabitants in these three types of countries. But between n o w and the year 2000 considerable changes will take place, even if w e accept the unlikely hypothesis that the number of countries belonging to the different groups will remain unchanged.

These probable developments undoubtedly account to some extent for the views of the neo-Malthusians. Is it really by mere coincidence that 150 years after Malthus 's death his work is being increasingly reprinted and that it should inspire various pseudo-scientific studies demonstrating the over-popula­tion of the world? Assuredly not. W e must view these fears of the neo-Malthu­sians in the light of the significant social changes taking place throughout the world. A s long as the demands of the expanding European population could be easily met by increasing imports from Latin America and other areas exporting agricultural products, economists showed no interest in the problems of food production, since these were of no political significance. Economists were interested in social and economic conditions only to the extent to which the latter affected profits. They m a d e no effort to ascertain whether the masses in Asia, Africa and Latin America were adequately fed. The first world war, however, brought about certain changes. The colonial peoples began to rebel. The awakening of their political and economic consciousness was strongly influenced at that time by the great socialist October Revolution in Russia which showed them the way to freedom. The formerly backward nations of

42

Social and economic aspects of world food production

Africa, Asia and Latin America emerged from their centuries-long isolation, which they finally shook off during the second world war and the post-war years. The former colonial powers, shaken in their very foundations, witnessed the gradual transformation of their economic structure and, consequently, of their political influence. It was precisely these revolutionary changes in the equilibrium of forces which led certain economists, sociologists, philo­sophers, etc., w h o were advocates of the neo-Malthusian theory, to sound the alarm and affirm that the very existence of mankind was at stake unless effective steps were taken to limit the further increase in population.

W e do not underestimate the problems raised by the rapid growth of popula­tion, nor the fact that the area of available land is relatively small. Nevertheless, w e cannot regard this fact as a decisive obstacle either to the expansion of agricultural production or the growth of population. If Malthus was right, the number of famines would increase in proportion to the increase in popula­tion; yet the opposite is the case. Thanks to science, technology and the h u m a n mind, the volume of production is rising both in industry and agriculture. In order to understand clearly the problem of population and food production w e must regard m a n not simply as a consumer, but also as a producer. It is true that nowadays fewer persons engage in agriculture in the economically more highly developed countries, but today the farmer is helped indirectly by nearly all sectors of production, public services and the government. The position is different in economically underdeveloped countries. There the number of persons engaged in agriculture increases with the population total, though decreasing in percentage. In 1948 the total number of agricultural workers was 1,275 million, in 1952 it was 1,331 million and in 1960 w e estimate it at 1,420 million. O n the other hand, the percentage of agricultural workers in relation to the total population of the world was 54 per cent in 1948, 52 per cent in 1953 and is approximately 50 per cent today.1 Obviously, it is not encouraging—especially in view of the comparatively low productivity of agriculture—to find that in our modern technological and scientific age half the population of the world is still engaged in agricultural work. These few figures will convey some idea of the tremendous opportunities which exist for introducing modern production methods into agriculture, with a view to relieving almost half mankind of this arduous work, and increasing productivity and consequently the amount of food supplies available to the whole world population.

AVAILABLE LAND

Let us n o w examine more closely the question of the area of cultivable land. The firm land of our planet covers an area of approximately 136 million

1. These fleures, with the exception of the estimates, appear in the United Nations publication The Future World Population.

43

Social and economic aspects of world food production

square kilometres, that is some 13,600 million hectares of land or about 4.6 hectares per capita. Out of this total approximately 4,658 million hectares are situated in regions whose climate is unsuitable for agriculture. W e are thus left with 8,942 million hectares or approximately 3 hectares per head. Since crops constitute the decisive element in agricultural production, w e must pay particular attention to the arable land; this extends over a total surface area of 1,370 million hectares, that is approximately 10 per cent of the total land area or some 15.32 per cent of the land situated in favourable climatic conditions. In short, w e can say that there is 0.47 hectare of arable land per head. This is a relatively small area, especially if set against the total land area and more particularly, against the land situated in favourable climatic condi­tions. Yet, if the distribution of food supplies were efficiently organized, this half-hectare per head could easily feed the entire population of the world which n o w stands at approximately 2,900 million.

There is no doubt that w e could fairly easily double or treble the area of arable land and, with our present methods of soil cultivation, produce sufficient quantities of food for a population of 9,000 million. N e w arable land could be obtained by cultivating virgin lands, irrigating deserts, draining marshes, clearing forests, ploughing up pastures, etc. F r o m a technical point of view, these interferences with nature no longer present any insoluble problems. It is mainly a matter of investment and financial resources. A s long as the view prevails that the expansion of arable land is a commercial and not an economic question, in the widest sense of the term, the greater part of the world popula­tion will remain d o o m e d to hunger and undernourishment.

Through irrigation alone, 700 million hectares out of the 1,440 million hectares of arid land, i.e. 48 per cent, would become available for agriculture, especially in Africa, South America and Australia. According to the figures published by the F o o d and Agriculture Organization only 13 per cent of the cultivated land is irrigated; yet this area produces n o less than 25 per cent of the total food supplies. The important hydraulic projects in the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, China and the United States of America, the A s w a n D a m and the other construction schemes in Africa, open up tremendous prospects for increasing cultivation. These schemes, it is true, necessitate considerable expenditure, but they will help to solve, once and for all, the problem of feeding mankind, even allowing for the great increase in world population referred to earlier in this article. These measures m a y be regarded as forming part of the 'horizontal expansion of agricultural pro­duction'.

The 'vertical expansion' of this production offers immense possibilities of increasing the production of food. The immediate objective should be to secure higher yields through an appropriate system of fertilization and cultiva­tion, the methodical use of selected seeds, pest control, erosion control, reduc­tion of losses, efficient storage, etc.

44

Social and economic aspects of world food production

N o aspect of agricultural production reveals more striking differences than the yield per hectare. In countries with a well-developed agriculture such as the Netherlands, D e n m a r k , and Belgium, this yield reaches 4,000 kg. for the principal grains, whereas in underdeveloped countries it amounts to no more than 400-600 kg. Although w e must not underestimate natural conditions, the main reason for this underdevelopment is to be found in the different methods of cultivation. T o what extent has the use of selected seeds alone helped to increase yields in the economically highly developed countries? Between 1900 and the present day yields in these countries have increased by approximately 25 per cent and, owing to the uniform use of artificial selec­tion w e m a y expect an annual increase in the production of crops and animal foodstuffs of 0.5 per cent, that is an increase of 25 per cent every 50 years. This trend will undoubtedly be maintained in the future, thanks to the progress of agricultural science. W h a t is possible in European and North American countries can surely also be achieved in countries which are as yet economically underdeveloped.

FERTILIZERS

Let us consider another factor which has led to a revolutionary increase in the yield per hectare, namely fertilizers. The use of mineral and synthetic fertilizers, which restore nitrogen to the soil, has led to a 25 per cent increase in the yield per hectare—though this applies of course only in countries having a highly developed agriculture. Thus, over the last 100 years, the yield per hectare has risen by over 50 per cent, that is by approximately 0.5 per cent annually in European countries with a highly developed agricultural production. During this same period the average annual growth of population has been 1 per cent. O f all the countries in the world the Netherlands is the largest consumer of nitrogen—some 180 kg. per hectare—tout even this figure does not represent the ultimate m a x i m u m . In this connexion Professor Roemer, of Halle (Eastern Germany) , quotes W o e r m a n n to the effect that lack of mineral fertilizers has resulted in Germany in an annual underproduction of 6 million tons of wheat, that is 300 grams of bread or its equivalent per head per day. This production deficit corresponds to 66 per cent of the total wheat imports for the European continent which, over the years 1935 to 1938, amounted to 9 million tons of wheat annually. In Eastern Germany as well as in the Federal Republic of Germany consumption of nitrogenous fertilizers has increased by almost 100 per cent, that is by 50 kg. per hectare, compared with the pre-war figure. Even so it does not represent even one third of the consumption of nitrogenous fertilizers in the Netherlands.

T o give some idea of the possible uses of mineral fertilizers and their effect on the yield per hectare w e cannot cite a more striking example at present than that of the Netherlands where, in 1956-57, 176.2 kg. of nitrogenous fertilizer,

45

Social and economic aspects of world food production

104.8 kg. of phosphate fertilizer and 162.8 kg. of potassio fertilizer, that is a total of 443.8 kg. of pure nutritive substances, were used per hectare of arable land. Clearly the universal use of chemical fertilizers on the scale adopted in the Netherlands would also necessitate a corresponding production.

At present consumption of chemical fertilizer varies between the different continents. Thus Africa, Asia and Latin America consume only 12per cent of the world production of chemical fertilizers. Leaving out of account the w o o d e d areas, and taking 120 kg. of nutritive substances as the average consumption figure of nitrogen, phosphoric acid and potassium per hectare, the chemical fertilizers actually used in the different continents (outside the Soviet U n i o n and the other Socialist countries) were sufficient in 1951-52 for the areas indicated in Table 4.

T A B L E 4

Assumed fertilized !>•_«_ . .« . ~r Percentage Region area JSÍf, f ' H <* available

(million hectares) a r a D l e l a n a agricultural land

Europe North America Latin America Asia Africa Oceania

Source. Ritter: Agrarwirtschaft und Agrarpolitik des Kapitalismus, Berlin, 1959, p. 2310.

Although these figures are not mathematically precise, this brief outline needs no further c o m m e n t , as it shows quite clearly that the production, distribution, and utilization of chemical fertilizers are a m o n g the main factors for increasing the yield per hectare and consequently raising the level of the existing agricultural production.

AGRICULTURAL WORKERS

Let us, however, return to the producer of the food—to m a n himself. Almost inexhaustible resources are available as regards teaching, utilization of the experiences and efforts of other workers and political awareness. In most countries agricultural work is still regarded as an inferior kind of work. This situation is conditioned by the general attitude towards vocational training in agriculture. Whereas, in all other fields of the national economy—industry, commerce, handicrafts, navigation, administration, etc.—a vocational training is required, this is not the case in agriculture. In particular in the economically developed countries based on the system of private ownership of property— and not to mention the economically underdeveloped countries—most persons

53.3 46.7 3.1

11.8 2.9 4.4

52 23 3 4 1

21

28 9 1 2 0 1

46

Social and economic aspects of world food production

engaged in agriculture start their work without any prior vocational, and even less scientific, training. It is a fact that only a minute proportion of the millions of agricultural workers take advantage of scientific developments in their work, and by far the greater part of the land used for agriculture is cultivated without the application of scientific knowledge. Yet important discoveries have been m a d e in the solitude of the laboratories, on the experimental farms and in the various research institutes. These successes are occasionally m e n ­tioned by the press, on radio or television; but the results of this scientific work are utilized by only a very small number of agricultural workers and the prac­tical effects of these studies, undertaken in the interest of mankind remain sadly insignificant! A most urgent task therefore is the broadest possible dissemination of scientific knowledge a m o n g the agricultural population.

NUTRITIONAL LEVEL

In the economically underdeveloped countries the low productivity is reflected in the standard of living of the population and, in particular, in its nutritional level. In order to gain a precise idea of the nutritional patterns in the various regions, w e must first decide on a unit of measure unaffected by price fluctua­tions and which will therefore enable us to arrive at valid conclusions. For this reason w e shall take as our basis the plant calorie—i.e., the original calorie— bearing in mind that animal foodstuffs such as milk, meat, eggs, etc., are the result of a transformation of food crops through livestock. Generally speaking, an animal must consume 7 plant calories in order to produce 1 calorie's worth of h u m a n food. If w e express diet in terms of calorie totals the ratio between hunger and satiety is barely 1 :2 , as can be shown by the examples of Pakistan and Great Britain. According to the United Nations Statistical Handbook for 1955, the average daily per capita consumption of calories in 1952-53 was 2,025 in Pakistan, and 3,140 in Great Britain. T h e daily food of the Pakis­tani, however, contains only 10 per cent animal calories, whereas that of a British person contains 35 per cent. T h e nutritional patterns of these two countries are therefore m a d e up as follows : Pakistan: 2,025 calories, of which 10 per cent are animal calories, i.e. 1,822.5

plant calories + 202.5 animal calories—which latter, multiplied by the coefficient 7, are equivalent to 1,417.5 plant calories—giving a total of 3,240 plant calories.

Great Britain: 3,140 calories, of which 35 per cent are animal calories, i.e. 2,041 plant calories + 1,099 animal calories—which latter, multiplied by the coefficient 7, are equivalent to 7,693 plant calories—giving a total of 9,734 plant calories.

These comparative figures of plant calories show a ratio of 3 : 1 in favour of Great Britain. This means, in practice, that the diet of a British person contains three times more agricultural products than that of a Pakistani.

47

Social and economie aspects of world food production

A comparison of other extreme cases—for instance, Australia, N o r w a y , D e n m a r k , Canada and the United States, on the one hand, and India, Thailand, the United Arab Republic and the Central African States, on the other—yields a ratio, in terms of plant calories, as high as 4 : 1 and even 5 : 1 .

In expressing these concrete examples in terms of plant calories w e find that the consumption of food products is not as 'rigid' as 'economists* frequently seek to demonstrate. The statistics of the F A O 1 show that two-thirds of m a n ­kind are n o w in a worse situation than before the second world war. These two-thirds of the world's population, w h o live principally in the Asian, African, and Latin American countries, receive, at the most, one-third of the calories— expressed in terms of plant calories—which are available to the population of the economically highly developed countries. W e find that an average inhabi­tant of the economically underdeveloped countries consumes between 2,500 and 3,500 plant calories per day, whereas we can regard 5,000 calories—i.e. some 9,000 to 9,500 plant calories—as the criterion for an adequate daily nutritional level for a worker. Although one-half of the world's population lives in Asia, the latter supplies only one-quarter of the world agricultural production. Bearing in mind that the annual agricultural production of several Far Eastern countries increases only very slowly (Malaya by 1 per cent; B u r m a , 2 ; Republic of Korea, 3 ; Pakistan, 4 ; Thailand, 6), that this production increase frequently lags behind the population increase, and that, on the other hand, agricultural production increases by 11 per cent in the United States, 14 per cent in Canada and 15 per cent in Australia, it is clear that an inhabitant of the Far East, whose income is not even one-thirtieth of that of an average inhabitant in the United States, will be unable to buy the latter's surplus produce, as long as the so-called 'normal laws' of the market prevail.

DISTRIBUTION OF FOOD SUPPLIES

Although an appreciable increase in food production is extremely important, both in the 'vertical' and 'horizontal' sense, production is not the sole prob­lem. The problem of world famine is, in our day, mainly one of distribution. The immediate solution must be sought not only in higher production, but also in an equilibrium between over-producing and under-producing regions, that is between wealthy countries which are unable to sell their surplus and poor countries which lack food products and also the financial resources to buy surplus stocks available elsewhere. The solution of this problem is thus primarily a question of international co-operation, although not, of course, on the commercial plane. Otherwise it is difficult to envisage a marked improve­ment in the food situation throughout the world. Supplies must cease to rank as merchandise and form the subject of business speculations. All countries

1. Agriculture In the World Economy. 1955 and 1957.

48

Social and economic aspects of world food production

should adopt a c o m m o n policy concerning food, a policy which is truly econo­mic and designed to secure for all their citizens the indispensable essentials of life. A s long as the world continues to regard food products as merchandise, their production and distribution will be determined by the profits and condi­tions of the capitalist market instead of by economic and social considerations. A n economy based on the concept of the highest possible profits cannot give priority to methods aimed at increasing the production of basic foodstuffs and facilitating their distribution. It must, first and foremost, meet the demands of the privileged classes ; it must produce luxury articles in preference to bull­dozers for controlling erosion, it must produce explosives for the army before it can release the nitrogen for use in chemical fertilizers. Such an economy can subsist for a certain time and derive considerable profits from the production and distribution of foodstuffs, but in the long run such a system is incapable of increasing production and maintaining the price level at the same time. At a time w h e n production forces are developing extremely rapidly, a policy based on the concept of profits must perforce destroy itself.

CONCENTRATION AND CENTRALIZATION OF AGRICULTURAL

PRODUCTION

Our age shows a strong trend towards rationalizing agricultural production. Although this tendency appears to be equally marked and to develop according to similar laws under the different social régimes, its causes and consequences vary profoundly. In countries favouring private enterprise, where the driving force behind every commercial undertaking is the pursuit of the highest possible profits, the trend towards rationalizing agricultural production is developing within the scope of the general process of concentration and centralization of capital and within the scope of the progressive monopolization of the whole economy. It is true that by concentrating and centralizing agricultural produc­tion one can more easily apply modern production methods and introduce mechanization and modern agricultural techniques and consequently increase the yield in food crops and achieve better results in animal food production. Normally, of course, this rationalization is merely planned on the scale of the individual undertaking concerned—even though rationalization is a general phenomenon—without taking into account the social consequences, especially the reduction in manpower . Since the economy is not directed in accordance with a single national plan, any agricultural concern which rationalizes its production is responsible for placing its redundant workers. The same prin­ciple applies to the concentration of agricultural production, in the course of which average-size or economically weak concerns are absorbed by finan­cially stronger concerns. The workers then immediately seek employment in other fields of the national economy and are generally ready to accept any post or salary in order to provide for their needs and those of their families.

49

Social and economic aspects of world food production

This naturally tends to force d o w n the wages of other employees and leads to an increase in unemployment.

The socialist system similarly endeavours to rationalize agricultural produc­tion, reduce production and labour costs and generally increase productivity. However, it offers redundant agricultural workers the possibility of employ­ment in other sectors of the national economy, within the scope of the national plan for a balanced development of the economy.

In a system of private enterprise increased productivity normally leads to unemployment and to the enrichment of the capital-owners; the latter are not interested in higher productivity as such, but merely in the profits they can derive from it. Increased productivity is not accompanied by a proportionate rise in wages—the opposite is frequently the case—and rationalization in private enterprise is not undertaken in order to make the work less arduous or increase its productivity, but to obtain m a x i m u m profits for a m i n i m u m capital. T h e position of the farmers and small-holders in the United States provides a striking illustration of this state of affairs ; they continued to lose money even at a period w h e n it was claimed that the entire economy, including agriculture, was riding on the crest of a wave of prosperity.

THE PROBLEM OF RELATIVE SURPLUSES

This development affects the whole problem of food supplies. Rationalization of agricultural production in the economically highly developed countries practising a system of private enterprise has the disastrous effect of creating a surplus of agricultural products, an accumulation of unsaleable reserves. Moreover, purchasing power declines as rationalization increases. W h a t are the causes of this situation? There are several, of which the most important is the limited capitalist market in which supply greatly exceeds demand, at least as long as foodstuffs continue to be regarded as commercial commodities, as we have indicated above. Obviously a strong demand for foodstuffs exists also inside the capitalist market, yet the very countries which suffer from the most serious lack of foodstuffs—the Asian, Far Eastern and Latin American countries—are unable to obtain sufficient capital to acquire this agricultural surplus commercially. Higher productivity and increased yields are further causes of the existence of so-called ' surpluses '. The American farmers do not produce more than the American population can consume, except possibly in the case of wheat; they simply produce m o r e than the American population can buy.

A survey conducted by the United States Government has shown that families with an annual income of 5,000 dollars or more consume 92 per cent more food than families with an income of 500 dollars or less. Families with an income of between 2,000 and 3,000 dollars consume more than twice the amount of meat and milk and 70 per cent more eggs than families with an

50

Social and economic aspects of world food production

income of 500 dollars or less. It appears from a study of the agricultural situation that the 1958 'surplus' would have been liquidated if the families of the unemployed—who then numbered 3,400,000—had received merely a dozen eggs a week. In the spring of 1959 Senator Aiken revealed that 26 mil­lion Americans lacked the means to purchase essential foodstuffs.1 W e have chosen the United States as an example because its agricultural production is extremely concentrated and centralized. Similar developments are apparent in the economically developed countries of Western Europe, notably in the countries belonging to the European Economic Communi ty and particularly in the Federal Republic of G e r m a n y .

For the origins of the agricultural surplus in the United States w e must go back a century, to the time w h e n wheat and maize production began to be developed also in Argentina, Canada and Australia. It was then asserted that agricultural production exceeded the increase of population, and that supply outran demand. The truth was that millions were already suffering hunger, that wheat, for instance, was being exported from Southern Russia, Rumania, Hungary, and Yugoslavia, at the expense of the farmers of those countries. At a time when India was still the third largest wheat exporter in the woild, tens of millions of its inhabitants were dying of hunger and undernourishment.

EQUITABLE DISTRIBUTION OF F O O D SUPPLIES IN SOCIALIST COUNTRIES

The socialist countries, which inherited this situation from the capitalist system, were faced with numerous problems. A s a preliminary step towards increasing agricultural production and securing an equitable supply of food­stuffs for the whole population, land and the means of production had to be distributed to the farmers. F r o m a purely economic point of view, it was a question of cultivating the largest possible area of land; from the social point of view, it was a question of a fundamental progressist intervention in the existing conditions of agricultural production. The measures adopted during the initial stage of reorganization of agricultural production, while retaining, in principle, the production methods developed under private enterprise, eliminated exploitation and the capitalist concept of 'market-conditioned production'. During the subsequent stage farmers gradually came to appreciate for themselves that modern agronomy and mechanization cannot be applied to an area of only a few hectares. It was for this reason that, during the next stage, the socialization of agricultural production was carried out, that is, the amalgamation of separate farms into co-operative establishments, known as kolkhozes or collective farms. W e must give a brief outline of this develop­ment because, although it is mainly an economic matter, this transformation of the agricultural production into a large-scale socialist production system

1. Faclt of Farmers, May 1959.

51

Social and economic aspects of world food production

constitutes also a fundamental social change—and an inevitable outcome of the economic changes. Thus the transformation of the social system not only brings about a change in the relations existing between the means and the forces of production, but also leads to a completely different method of distri­buting industrial and agricultural products. The socialist system has eliminated the privileged sections of society and ensured an equitable distribution of foodstuffs in accordance with economic and social requirements. The most stubborn enemies of socialism cannot deny at least one of its successes—that of having succeeded in a relatively short time in banishing hunger and under­nourishment for ever. They must be wondering whether this victory is purely fortuitous or whether it is not due directly to the reform of the social system, thanks to which each citizen is assured of one of his most fundamental rights— the right to work.

THE SOLUTION OF THE FOOD PROBLEM IN ECONOMICALLY

UNDERDEVELOPED COUNTRIES

But is it really possible to ease the problem of food supplies under present conditions when not yet all the inhabitants of our globe have adopted socialism? Most certainly. The problem of feeding a constantly increasing population can best be tackled in the economically underdeveloped countries. In these countries the food and agricultural production per head is alarmingly low. In none of these areas, with the exception of the Near East, has the pre-war level as yet been attained. The relatively favourable development in the Near East is due to the exceptional increase of agricultural production in Isreal. It is instructive to study the tables contained in the F A O publication The State of Food and Agriculture, I960, which show the indices of food and agricul­tural production per head as well as the absolute production figures for the various regions.

W h a t is most alarming is not the fact that the per head production of food­stuffs has not yet, 15 years after the war, reached the pre-war level or that the per head agricultural production has increased by only a negligible proportion; it is the general trend of the development that is the most alarming (see tables 6 to 9). The index itself does not tell us very m u c h and does not indicate whether the food and agricultural and production really satisfied the m i n i m u m needs of these regions. That it did not do so before the war needs no demonstration here; it is therefore all the more unlikely that the present needs could be satis­fied by a relatively smaller per head food production.

The causes of this deplorable situation are varied. T h e most important is the general economic development, because the agricultural production of the economically underdeveloped countries cannot be considered in isolation from the problem of their overall development. It is not sufficient to create conditions in economically underdeveloped countries which would enable

52

Social and economic aspects of world food production

farmers to expand production; at the same time the general purchasing power of the population must be increased (even in the United States, with its exten­sive agricultural production, the relative production surplus is due, basically, to inadequacy of purchasing power, both in the United States itself and in other countries which might otherwise buy u p this ' surplus '). For this reason one of the most vital needs is to develop the economy of underdeveloped countries by building up their industries, particularly the production equip­ment industry which could absorb a large part of the labour force at present engaged in farming—and thereby turn under-employment and unemployment into full employment. Large-scale industrialization of the economically under­developed countries presupposes, however, extensive international co-opera­tion and long-term credits as low interests rates, as well as the utilization of all the resources of these countries. These two problems cannot be separated. Inflow of capital is essential for economic development, but it is equally important that economically underdeveloped countries should m a k e effective use of their reserves. Efforts must be concentrated above all on developing agriculture and the production of raw materials. Although every region, every country generally regarded as underdeveloped has its o w n specific problems, all of them have nevertheless to tackle certain c o m m o n problems, such as low productivity, an insufficient volume of agricultural production, low purchasing power, incompletely utilized resources, too little capital of their o w n and an inadequate inflow of foreign capital, an adverse balance of payments, etc.

Industrialization is a decisive factor in the general development of the economi­cally underdeveloped countries, but a long-term factor. It will require m a n y years before this objective will be achieved even to the extent of gradually narrowing the gap between the countries which are already highly industrialized and those which are still economically backward. Meanwhile the world popu­lation will continue to increase and, as we have indicated in the first part of the present report, this increase will be most marked in the economically under­developed countries. Yet the inhabitants of those countries wish—and will continue to wish—to eat, dress and live like h u m a n beings. Are we to believe that they are d o o m e d to poverty until such time as their countries become completely industrialized? The answer is no , provided that an atmosphere conducive to true international co-operation and an effective division of work can be brought about. The problem of general economic development and disinterested international co-operation is mainly a political one. A s long as m a n y of the economically underdeveloped countries continue to be dependent, politically and economically, on other countries or even find themselves in the position of colonial or semi-colonial countries, it is difficult to conceive of conditions which would make possible a full development of their o w n forces and resources.

In several economically underdeveloped countries the introduction of democratic agrarian reforms constitutes a key problem; its solution can lead

53

Social and economic aspects of world food production

to more efficient cultivation, higher agricultural production and a m o r e effective use of irrigation and drainage schemes. But, if the implementation of agrarian reforms, apart from their social consequences, is to lead to higher agricultural production, it depends on structural modifications of this produc­tion as a whole. Accordingly agrarian reform must necessarily relate to single-crop cultivation—that is plantations belonging, for the most part, to foreign owners, either companies or individuals—and also to the private property of the citizens of the countries concerned. Contrary to the position in highly industrialized countries, where the feudal system has been replaced by a capi­talist system, in a large number of economically underdeveloped countries the two systems exist side by side, and it is in these same countries that single-crop cultivation is most widespread. Unfortunately it will be difficult to persuade the owners of such plantations and estates to apply agrarian reforms to their property, which frequently includes land kept fallow for the purpose of speculation.

Even those underdeveloped countries, however, in which single-crop culti­vation has never reached the same scale or where it has been gradually elimi­nated and agrarian reforms have already at least to some extent been carried out, are faced with numerous problems. The main one concerns the mechaniza­tion of agriculture, which would be instrumental in increasing agricultural production. Agricultural mechanization in economically underdeveloped countries is not exclusively a question of the financial resources available for developing the production of mechanical equipment or for purchasing such equipment abroad. It is, first and foremost, an economic problem. In areas where manpower is plentiful—which is the case in nearly all these countries— h u m a n labour is less costly than machines. A n owner w h o is unable to cultivate his land by himself or with the aid of his family does not consider it profitable to replace the cheap h u m a n labour he can hire by mechanical equipment, no matter h o w simple. In several regions certain types of farm work, which would normally be carried out at least by draught animals, are carried out by m e n , since manpower is less expensive than the upkeep of cattle.

W e have chosen at random two problems which have a considerable influence on the expansion of agricultural production in economically underdeveloped countries. The solution of these two problems—and of m a n y others, such as, for instance, the use of chemical substances in agriculture or the adequate regional distribution of crops—depends directly or indirectly on the general economic development and on effective international co-operation.

Even under present conditions it is, however, necessary to find ways and means of ensuring that economically underdeveloped countries can feed their constantly expanding population by means of their o w n resources. O n e m a y have to aim not only at increasing per capita agricultural production, but also at increasing the yield per hectare, for instance by improving cultivation methods and making more effective use of natural and chemical fertilizers.

54

Social and economic aspects of world food production

A s a further measure crops could be better distributed by regions taking into account the nature of the soil; where natural conditions permit, the areas of cultivation of some industrial raw materials could be extended, while the land n o w used for growing corps of certain industrial raw materials for which synthetic substitutes are available could serve for the cultivation of grains, for drainage, the construction of silos, etc. T h e measures to be adopted in econo­mically underdeveloped countries are therefore primarily those which neces­sitate a m i n i m u m of expenditure and can be applied by the farmer himself. At the same time, long-term plans for expanding agricultural production must be prepared by the governments in the light of the natural and social conditions, the financial possibilities, the state of the h o m e and world markets, etc. Such projects relative to an entire country or to a certain region also necessitate considerable expenditure. Governments can in various ways exercise an influence over the resources devoted to the development of agricultural produc­tion : for instance, by making direct investments in agriculture, in the form of major irrigation schemes or movement of population; by selecting certain areas for the establishment of a network of road transports or other means of transport; by pursuing an economic policy aimed at stabilizing the prices of farm products and offering farmers prospects of stable incomes unaffected by market fluctuations. Price stabilization of agricultural products could also be fostered by fixed credits. A more advantageous taxation system for farmers would doubtless have a favourable influence on the expansion of agricultural production. In addition, the advisory and information services should be improved, so that farmers could be familiarized as far as possible with the latest developments in agricultural science. Finally, the economically under­developed countries should establish their o w n agricultural research institutes to study their special problems.

It need hardly be emphasized that economically underdeveloped countries are dependant on their exports of raw materials, particularly agricultural products. Hence these countries take into account the volume of such exports in the preparation of plans for developing their national economy. World trade in agricultural products has not greatly increased over the last few decades. Excluding trade between socialist countries, the volume of world trade in 1958 was only 20 per cent higher than that of the pre-war period 1934-38. In view of the steady fall in prices—except during the post-war b o o m which was, however, of very short duration—the actual value of the incomes of the economically underdeveloped countries has not increased. The highly industri­alized countries, which were the chief importers of agricultural products from those countries, have considerably increased their o w n production, particu­larly that of basic foodstuffs. In addition, there has been an expansion in the production of synthetic fibres, rubber and other agricultural products. O n the other hand, exports of 'tropical' products from economically under­developed countries—such as coffee, tea, cocoa and bananas—have risen

55

Social and economic aspects of world food production

during the last few years. The countries which depend on the exports of one or two kinds of agricultural products are, however, particularly affected by the price fluctuations on the world markets. The most striking proof of this

T A B L E 5. Indices oí per capita agricultural production (average 1952/53 to 1956/57 = 100)

Pre-war average

Average 1948/49 to

1952/53

Average 1952/53 to

1956/57 1957/58

1959/60 1958/59 (prelim­

inary)

All agricultural products

Latin America Far East (excluding China) Near East Africa

Food products only

Latin America Far East (excluding China) Near East Africa

108 110 95 93

103 108 95 96

98 92 92 95

97 92 91 96

100 100 100 100

100 100 100 100

104 101 105 97

103 100 105 96

105 103 106 98

103 103 105 96

104 105 104 95

100 105 103 92

If we consider the whole of the four regions which comprise the economically underdeveloped countries, w e get the following figures : All agricultural products 101.5 94.25 100 101.75 103 102 Food products only 100.5 94 100 101 101.75 100

T A B L E 6. Latin America: production of major commodities

Average 1934-38

Average 1948-52 1957/58 1958/59 1959/60

(preliminary)

Quantity (million metric tons)

Wheat Maize Rice Sugar Citrus fruit Bananas Coffee Cocoa Tobacco Milk Meat 1

Eggs

Index of all farm products

8.62 18.00

1.33 6.89 3.28 4.20 2.11 0.24 0.21

12.22 5.03 0.48

7.97 15.04

3.08 12.52

3.73 7.80 1.88 0.25 0.31

14.59 6.10 0.58

10.33 20.16

4.00 15.09

4.53 10.60

2.48 0.29 0.39

19.79 7.27 0.89

10.72 21.39

3.95 16.75

4.75 10.50

2.74 0.34 0.40

20.06 7.30 0.93

9.72 21.06

4.23 17.04

4.71 10.50

3.72 0.33 0.40

20.20 6.75 0.95

Indices (average 1952/53 to 1956/57 = 100)

73 89 112 115 117

Source. The State of Food and Agriculture, 1960, R o m e , F A O .

1. Beef and veal, mutton and lamb. pork.

56

Social and economic aspects of world food production

T A B L E 7. Far East (excluding mainland China): production of major commodities

Average 1934-38

Average 1948-52 1957/58 1958/59 1959/60

(preliminary)

Quantity (million metric tons)

Wheat Millet and sorghum Rice Sugar (centrifugal) Sugar (non-centrifugal) Starchy roots Pulses Vegetable oils and oilseeds

(oil equivalent) Tea Tobacco M e a t 1

Milk

12.13 14.94 65.28

4.18 3.67

21.62 6.78

3.96 0.46 0.79 1.65

23.23

11.35 13.28 66.73

3.14 4.04

26.06 7.12

4.02 0.54 0.61 1.77

25.25

14.72 16.60 76.59

5.59 5.12

34.94 9.92

5.08 0.67 0.85 2.38

26.24

12.96 17.82 85.27

5.94 5.85

36.71 8.85

5.12 0.70 0.77 2.41

26.60

15.49 16.80 88.50 6.08 5.93

37.52 10.77

5.08 0.70 0.82 2.44

26.90

Indices (average 1952/53 to 1956/57 = 100)

Index of all farm products 86 87 105 109 113

Source. The State of Food and Agriculture, I960, R o m e , F A O .

1. Beef and veaL mutton and lamb. pork.

T A B L E 8. Near East: production of major commodities

Average 1934-38

Average 1948-52 1957/58 1958/59 1959/60

(preliminary)

Quantity (million metric tons)

Wheat Barley Rice Total grains Sugar (centrifugal) Pulses Citrus fruit Dates Bananas Vegetable oils and oilseeds

(oil equivalent) Tobacco Milk M e a t 1

9.50 4.24 1.09

19.07 0.22 0.70 0.79 0.87 0.05

0.32 0.09 9.70 0.65

10.95 4.67 1.34

22.05 0.42 0.78 0.85 0.85 0.07

0.41 0.12

10.36 0.85

17.80 7.45 1.81

33.39 0.79 0.90 1.31 1.10 0.11

0.51 0.16

11.52 1.22

16.54 6.39 1.41

31.01 0.86 0.80 1.50 1.09 0.12

0.63 0.15

12.42 1.16

16.29 5.96 1.67

30.15 1.00 0.84 1.49 1.10 0.11

0.62 0.15

12.50 1.13

Indices (average 1952/53 to 1956/57 = 100)

Index of all farm products 72 84 112 116 116

Source. The State of Food and Agriculture, I960, R o m e , F A O .

1. Beef and veal, mutton and lamb. pork.

Social and economic aspects of world food production

T A B L E 9. Africa: production of major commodities

Average 1934-38

Average 1948-52 1957/58 1958/59 1959/60

(preliminary)

Quantity (million metric tons)

Wheat Barley Maize Millet and sorghum Rice Sugar (centrifugal) Starchy roots Pulses Citrus fruit Bananas Groundnuts (oil equivalent) Vegetable oils and oilseeds

(oil equivalent) Coffee Cocoa Wine Milk M e a t 1

2.66 2.60 4.62 9.31 1.11 0.95

35.40 1.02 0.38 0.30 0.56

1.73 0.14 0.49 2.14 6.82 1.52

3.16 3.18 7.01

10.67 1.72 1.36

45.43 1.42 0.77 0.31 0.71

2.20 0.29 0.50 1.72 7.87 1.84

3.71 2.18 8.66

10.99 2.09 2.15

50.25 1.34 1.26 0.55 1.18

2.84 0.54 0.46 2.16 8.94 2.07

3.93 3.24 9.23

11.03 2.06 2.23

50.44 1.39 1.16 0.55 1.05

2.89 0.59 0.57 2.05 9.07 2.10

3.72 2.50 8.85

11.06 2.00 2.30

49.38 1.35 1.29 0.55 1.00

2.74 0.65 0.63 1.98 9.10 2.10

Indices (average 1952/53 to 1956/57 = 100)

Index of all farm products 70 88 103 107 106

Source. The State of Food and Agriculture, 1960, R o m e , F A O .

1. Beef and veal, mutton and lamb. pork.

is provided by the Central American countries, whose principal exports are coffee, bananas and cocoa and w h o deal almost exclusively with one single foreign importer. At the same time and over the same period w e m a y note a rise of more than 20 per cent in the prices of industrial products in general; this means that the actual value of the agricultural products of the economi­cally underdeveloped countries, the volume of which is 20 per cent higher than before the war, has in fact fallen by 20 per cent. The economically under­developed countries must therefore export some 40 per cent more than before the war in order to buy the same quantity of industrial products. This problem also could be solved through effective international co-operation, for our planet can produce enough bread for everybody.

C O N C L U S I O N

For mankind to be freed once and for all from hunger and poverty, it is essential to start from the idea that a sound economic policy must be based on the legitimate needs of the population and not on actual consumption. The idea that foodstuffs are commercial articles must be eradicated.

58

Social and economic aspects of world food production

The example of the socialist countries shows that it is possible to break away from traditional concepts. This presupposes, however, a n e w relationship between the means and the forces of production as well as a change in social relations. At present, industrial and agricultural products intended for mass consumption are still regarded as merchandise. O n the other hand, this no longer applies to capital investment, industrial concerns, mining, metallurgy and, above all, cultivable land. The mere fact that land has ceased to rank as merchandise has eliminated any risk of commercial speculation, and makes it possible to plan agricultural production within the context of government projects for a well-balanced development of the national economy, and to plan it in such a manner that it does not lag behind industrial production and is able to satisfy the needs of the population, ensure a better standard of living and cope with future demands.

The results achieved in socialist countries in the field of agricultural produc­tion and the distribution of food supplies confirm the wisdom of this policy. H o w else are w e to explain, for instance, that Czechoslovakia, which has not yet achieved an intensity of agricultural production and a productivity of labour comparable to those of Belgium, the Netherlands and D e n m a r k , has an average per capita consumption of food calories which exceeds that of the Benelux countries and almost equals that of D e n m a r k . Even though the present standard of living, which is on the whole higher than formerly, m a y also necessitate imports from abroad in those fields where h o m e production is inadequate, it is essential that a social system which aims at satisfying the increasing demands of the population, should mobilize all the resources capable of assisting it in attaining this objective.

59

ART CONTRA SCIENCE

A n inquiry into the sociological aspects of the schism between science and the creative arts

by

N U M A CUVE NEGRI

N u m a Clive Negri is an independent research worker specializing in the social psychology of judgement and prejudice. He has written extensively on this and related topics, and is currently engaged upon a major philosophical work to be published under the title of Criteria Aesthetica.

O n e of the more curious, though in the light of our present knowledge of psychology, perhaps not altogether surprising, things about m a n is that the two primary components of his personality—his emotions and his intellect— are frequently at variance with one another. This is true not only of the indi­vidual, but also of h u m a n society as a whole. Indeed, it is often the case that this variance between the emotions and the intellect is most strikingly d e m o n ­strated in societal phenomena. W e can, in fact, instance numerous schisms between organized social groups whose aims are not overtly incompatible, and in practically every such case it is possible to trace the cause of the schism to the irreconcilability of emotional and intellectual attitudes. The present-day antipathy between the creative arts—which have their origins in the emotions— and the sciences—which have their origins in the intellect—is an exceptionally good example, and so, incidentally, is the nineteenth-century antagonism between theology1 and science. It is worth comparing these two examples for there is an interesting parallel between them; in both cases the actual schism occurred more or less suddenly after a long period of mutually bene­volent consociation. A n d this fact has considerable bearing on certain aspects of the present topic. Furthermore, the schism between science and theology is rather more clearly defined than that between science and the arts, so the comparison will also help to elucidate some of the more obscure features of the latter schism.

The events culminating in the schism between theology and science are well k n o w n and for our present purpose it is only necessary to recall that, from the inception of modern experimental science during the later years of

1. It should be understood that throughout this paper the term theological group refers exclusively to the nineteenth-century Anglican theological movement .

61

Art contra science

the seventeenth century until the first signs of the schism in the middle years of the nineteenth century, science and theology were closely allied. This alliance was only partly due to the fact that a number of the leading figures in each generation of scientists were m e n in holy orders. In the main it was founded on the conviction, shared by scholars, scientists, theologians and thinking laymen alike, that every fresh scientific discovery could be interpreted as further evidence of the boundless power of G o d . Both Paley's View of the Evidences of Christianity (1794) and the Bridgewater Treatises (1833-40) were written by m e n w h o devoutly believed that this was the principal, if not the only, function of scientific research. But science could not and did not long shelter beneath this aegis.

W h e n Lyell's Elements of Geology (1838) and Darwin's Origin of Species (1859) m a d e nonsense of the literal meaning of the first chapter of Genesis, and went a long w a y toward liberating cosmological theorists from the restric­tive necessity of presupposing Divine influence to account for natural pheno­m e n a , the clergy in general and the more conservative theologians in particular began to realize that science was slowly undermining the structure of traditional theology. Immediately the full implications of the n e w discoveries were realized the schism occurred, and in the ensuing ideological conflict science adopted an increasingly aggressive role while theology was forced into a defensive position.

Today a certain spirit of laisser-faire prevails between science and theology, and this makes it difficult to appreciate the vehemence with which the nine­teenth-century dialectic was conducted. Remembering, however, theology's dogmatic and impassioned rejection of the theory of evolution, w e need have no doubt of the general clerical attitude. A n d the attitude of the scientists is nowhere better epitomized than in Professor Tyndall's claim that science would '. . . wrest from theology the entire domain of cosmological theory'.

A s subsequent events have shown, these words were prophetic. In spite of staunch theological resistance, science has encroached on the theological domain, compelling theologians to m a k e m a n y important concessions to scientific rationalism and to renounce m u c h of their original d o g m a . A s a consequence the position of theology as a source of philosophical wisdom has been seriously weakened and, although the good offices of religion per se have ensured that its moral influence has not been dissipated, its social and cultural influence is diminishing.

THE IMPACT OF SCIENCE ON THE ARTS

Turning n o w to the course of the relationship between science and the creative arts w e find that this has a great deal in c o m m o n with that between science and theology. Just as the theologians initially saw in science the means of acquiring a n e w and m o r e profound understanding of G o d ' s creation, so artists initially

62

Art contra science

saw the means of acquiring a n e w and m o r e profound understanding of the reality they wanted to portray in their work. A n d just as theologians ultimately discovered that scientific rationalism was threatening the very future of theo­logy, so artists c a m e to feel that scientific rationalism was gradually destroying the foundations of art.

At the time that the impact of science on society was becoming significant, artists were beginning to evince dissatisfaction with the romanticism and sentimentality of an archaic aesthetic philosophy, and were awaiting, if not actually in search of, a new approach to art. Science, or at any rate the scientific attitude, provided that approach and was thus instrumental in the evolution of naturalism and realism in painting and literature. Shortly after the turn of the century the works of such m e n as Russell, Whitehead, Planck, Einstein and other twentieth-century mathematicians and physicists revolutionized virtually all existing ontological and epistemological concepts. At the same time mechanization was introduced on a wide scale, and this, with the increasing use of high-speed transportation and similar innovations of the nascent technological era, accustomed m e n to perspectives of time and space with which they had not previously been acquainted. Both culturally and intellec­tually the years which followed were marked by change, revolution and expan­sion. The result was, for the intelligent layman at least, a more accurate, rational and generally streamlined apprehension of the universe than had ever before been conceived. Naturally this prompted artists to formulate an aesthetic philosophy which advocated an art based on rhythm, symmetry and order. N o w this art was , inevitably, stylized and idealistic. Consequently it did not long persist without undergoing substantial modification.

Foremost a m o n g the several factors which contributed to this modification were the psychoanalytical theories then beginning to attract the attention of the wider intellectual world. Freud's exposition of mind was enthusiastically received by avant-garde artists, the majority of w h o m were primarily intrigued by the emphasis which Freud laid on the irrational character of the unconscious, and by his symbolic interpretation of dreams, in which they perceived the key to a completely novel m o d e of expression. But it was some years before Freud's psychoanalytical theories were fully assimilated into the prevailing aesthetic philosophy, and even longer before they emerged in the guise of surrealism.

In the meantime artists became aware of four things : firstly, that science had disrupted continuity with the past. Secondly, that the scientific environ­ment was not one in which the artistic personality could always flourish unimpaired. Thirdly, that the cultural importance of the arts was decreasing in inverse ratio to the growing cultural importance of science and technology. A n d fourthly, that although science was becoming more and more austere and involved, and less and less comprehensible to the untrained layman, it was not succeeding in solving the major problems of the day with the facility nineteenth-century rationalists had prophesied.

63

Art contra science

O n the whole the result of this manifold realization was iconoclastic, and a schism between science and the arts became inevitable. Artists suddenly felt that science had little or nothing to offer them ; that it was bringing about changes that could not but be disastrous to art; and that Spengler 's pessimistic dictum that art must die out in an age of science and technology was on the point of becoming a fact. Disillusioned, the artists broke away from the current scientific movement to work out their destiny independently. But in alienating them­selves from the scientific movement they alienated themselves from the social milieu, and thus became what was, to all intents and purposes, an out-group, a minority whose interests were not in accordance with those of society as a whole.

SOCIOLOGICAL ASPECTS OF THE ARTISTS' PREDICAMENT

At this juncture the sociological ramifications of the artistic fraternity's position take precedente over all others. Consequently, in order to appreciate the predicament of artists subsequent to the schism between science and the creative arts it is necessary to study the general situation, and particularly the spycho-social attitudes involved, with reference to the structure and dyna­mics of modern social groups. This is rather a complicated subject, and one which does not permit of m u c h simplification. Accordingly it must be treated at considerable length.

Sociologists usually conceive of groups as either primary or secondary. A primary group is almost invariably smaller than a secondary group, but there is more to it than that. The primary group is distinguished by the fact that the relations between its members are always personal, and also by the fact that it is pervaded by a profound sense of unity. The tribe, the family, the isolated rural community and the small informal social club or society are all typical examples of the primary group. The secondary group, which is the kind with which w e are mainly concerned, is a less personal organization, usually subservient to some special interest and, as the American sociologist Kimball Y o u n g has pointed out, manifesting a definite tendency to become institutionalized. Large professional associations, political parties, and the State are all good examples of the secondary group.

F r o m the present standpoint, however, this dichotomous classification has one rather serious shortcoming; it does not take account of groups lying somewhere halfway between primary and secondary, and therefore not fitting readily into either category. These groups, which m a y be termed sub-secondary, are in constant transition, either from primary to secondary, or vice versa. The structure of the sub-secondary group varies. It m a y consist in an a m a l g a m of small primary groups which have been brought into contact with one another through a c o m m o n interest. A Boy Scout Jamboree attended by, say, 12 small independent groups would probably constitute a sub-secondary group of this

64

Art contra science

kind. Another form of sub-secondary group is the loosely integrated social set which sometimes evolves as a result of social gravitation within a large, institutionalized secondary group. W e find examples of this within military c o m m a n d s , political organizations and even schools. But it is most frequently encountered in the larger commercial organization where day-to-day inter­course tends to foster group relations between those members of the staff w h o share a c o m m o n status within the organization A s a result of this the managers of various departments m a y form themselves into a nebulous group which is primary insofar as it is characterized by personal relations between its members , but secondary in that it is subservient to and accepts the institu­tions of the larger group within which it exists.

Sometimes a sub-secondary group is nothing more than the stable core of a disintegrating secondary group. For instance a club or corporation m a y gradually lose members until only the committee remains, and the group will then be sub-secondary because while it is institutionalized and devoted to a special interest the relations between its members will be exclusively face to face. Finally there is the primary group which becomes a sub-secondary group by absorbing other primary groups in the course of transition from primary to secondary.

In this case the relations between the group members will become less and less personal as the group approximates more and more closely to a full secondary group. A n d w e m a y note that this, or the converse, will be equally true of all the other examples cited. For, as previously stated, all sub-secondary groups are undergoing transition. If the Boy Scout Jamboree was maintained for an extended period and allowed to increase in size it would eventually become a full secondary group with a rigid structure and a clearly defined hierarchy. The disintegrating club, on the other hand, would in the course of time degenerate into a mere group of friends with no special interest and no institutions.

F r o m this it follows that, regardless of its structure, the sub-secondary group will invariably display characteristics of both primary and secondary groups. For instance the relations between its members m a y be personal but, at the same time, institutionalized. Alternatively, the group m a y be somewhat impersonal and diffuse or nebulous, yet there m a y be complete unity between its members .

The relevance of the concept of sub-secondary groups to the present topic lies in the fact that what has been loosely called the 'artistic fraternity' was , during a vital period of the early twentieth century, just such a group. That it ever became a sub-secondary group, and that it later evolved into a full secondary group m a y be entirely attributed to scientific development in general and more specifically to technological advancement in methods of communica­tion, transportation, administration and education.

In the eighteenth century and, indeed, right up to the latter part of the

65

Art contra science

nineteenth century, both the size and the structure of social groups were deter­mined geographically, since the existing methods of transportation, c o m m u ­nication and administration were hardly capable of overcoming geographical barriers such as seas, deserts, mountain ranges or, for that matter, even mere distance. A n d the problem was not purely a physical one. Communication and transportation were costly for all their inefficiency and could not be implemented without extensive financial resources. This meant that it was virtually impossible for private individuals or even primary groups to establish and maintain contact with their counterparts in other countries. It also meant that only large organizations with vast financial resources such as governments and ecclesiastical bodies could administer a really large secondary group. Consequently, the artistic fraternity did not consist in anything more than a class split u p into a number of small primary groups between which there was very little interaction. O f course the artists of, say, eighteenth-century R o m e were well aware of the existence and work of the artists of eighteenth-century Paris, and the more venturesome travelled abroad and came to k n o w the other groups personally. But these tenuous connexions did not alter the basic social pattern.

With the advent of modern technology the social pattern radically changed. Reliable postal services and mechanized transport systems m a d e complex interaction between distant primary groups a practical possibility. Improve­ments in education brought about an enormous increase in public literacy and also, though to a less spectacular extent, brought more linguists and scholars into the field. Simultaneously, modern methods of book and news­paper production came into use. This meant more translation and reportage, and what is more important, such work could be made readily available to the constantly growing literate population. Later came the commercial exploitation of inventions like the telephone, the camera, sound-recording equipment and the cine-camera. The effects were far-reaching. M e n were at last able to travel quickly and safely from place to place and if they could not travel they could communicate by letter, telephone or telegraph.

But the m o r e general social consequences of these and similar innovations have already been adequately discussed by various writers, and it is not part of our purpose to reiterate what has already been said. W e are only concerned to examine the effect thereof on one particular class or group, namely the artistic fraternity. T o artists this meant several things. In the first place, of course, it meant an increased awareness of what was going on in various parts of the world. Eighteenth and nineteenth century artists could only learn about the work of their foreign contemporaries if such work was imported and exhibited, performed or published in their o w n country, or if they themselves undertook long and often arduous journeys. But the early twentieth-century artists could learn of foreign artists' work through reports from travellers, articles and illustrations in periodicals, gramophone records and so on. Later

66

Art contra science

came the radio and the motion picture, which not only m a d e it possible to record permanently transient things like ballet and acting, but also provided artists with a n e w m e d i u m which appealed to the general public.

In the second place, improved transport and communication systems led to greater social interaction between the artists of the world. A s a result, in addition to learning more about each other's work, they also came to k n o w more about each other's views, attitudes and beliefs. It was not long before they realized that they had m u c h in c o m m o n with one another. Out of this realization grew a feeling of unity and later true, though inchoate, group consciousness.

At this point an other factor c a m e into play. F r o m the general popularization of art, and the publicity given to artists in newspapers and over the radio, emerged a number of 'artistic' stereotypes, myths, legends and attitudes. Typical of these stereotypes is the idea that poets wear extravagant clothes with velvet collars and flowing ties. This particular stereotype almost certainly originated in fin de siècle London , and quite probably arose out of the publicity given to the sartorial masquerades of Oscar Wilde and his followers. Naturally this stereotype could have arisen at almost any time in the recent past, but its wide acceptance by the majority could only have been brought about by mass information media which are essentially a m o d e r n feature of culture. In any event what is primarily important about stereotypes, myths and legends, is not h o w they arise, not their effect on public opinion, but rather their effect on the behaviour of those to w h o m they refer. It is an interesting fact that if m e n are accredited with certain traits they tend to live up to them. Thus, heroes endeavour to be modest and self-effacing; pedagogues patronizing and pedantic; and businessmen efficient and 'business-like'. Similarly, artists endeavour to behave in the w a y they believe they ought to behave. This means that over the years they have adopted various attitudes, modes of conduct and fashions which seem to fit in with their role and social status. It is axiomatic that this process went on long before the twentieth century, but in recent years it has been accelerated with an important result. For at a personal level the adoption of attitudes and modes which are derived from prevailing stereo­types represents the individual's desire to differentiate himself from the mass of society and to associate and identify himself with a particular, well-defined section or group. At a societal level it represents the nascent group's urge to achieve recognition as an independent social entity. So here again w e have another instance of science, or rather technological development, altering the structure of the artistic milieu. For the acceleration of the process of adopting stereotyped modes and attitudes played a significant part in the evolution of a sub-secondary group of artists. A n d this acceleration was entirely due to technological developments in the field of mass information media.

In itself this is a relatively small thing, but coupled with other changes wrought by technology it led to what m a y legitimately be termed a metamorpho-

67

Art contra science

sis of the whole sphere of art. T o gain a general impression of the extent of this metamorphosis w e can compare the social position of an artist of, say, the sixteenth century with that of an artist of today. It is unlikely that there is any better chronicle of a Renaissance artist's life than the memoirs of Benvenuto Cellini. For this work is more than a brilliant autobiography and a literary work of distinction; it is, in spite of its boisterous extravagances and obvious exaggerations, an important sociological document. It must, however, be read with care. A superficial perusal reveals only the violent, passionate rebellious m a n of action causing trouble in nearly every town he visited. But in point of fact Cellini was not a rebel. Basically he was a gifted individualist, ambitious and quick-tempered but not unduly aggressive. The troubles and intrigues in which he became involved were rather a reflection of the society in which he lived than an indication of his character. H e was one of the comparatively few m e n of his generation and calling to achieve an international reputation, but since this reputation spread solely by personal recommendation it did not extend to the mass of the population. Whereas a modern artist often enjoys a high reputation a m o n g the thousands w h o k n o w neither him nor his works, only those w h o had employed Cellini or had had the opportunity of actually seeing his works could k n o w of his ability. A n d the fact that, like most of his contemporaries, he was employed is significant. Unlike the artists of today w h o m a y be commissioned to execute a specific work of art but are not normally employed by any one m a n , Cellini and his contemporaries spent long periods under the patronage and protection of one or other of the great noblemen. T o work independently and on their o w n initiative was, for the Renaissance artists, the exception.

Another, and from the sociological standpoint perhaps the most important, difference between artists of Cellini's time and modern artists is that, while the former moved mainly in court circles and were not associated with any artistic group other than that which consisted in their immediate acquaintances a m o n g local artists and craftsmen, the latter often m o v e almost exclusively in artistic circles and are usually, if not invariably, members of some large special-interest group such as the surrealists. N o w we can m a r k certain funda­mental differences between these two groups. The kind of group to which Cellini belonged was primary in the strictest sense of the word, being charac­terized by face-to-face personal relations between its members w h o were imbued with a strong sense of unity. A group like the European surrealists, on the other hand, could scarcely be called primary. For one thing it was more or less consciously formed with a predetermined end in view. For another, there has always been within it a distinct pattern of dominance. Moreover, it was from its very inception institutionalized to a high degree. A n d according to accepted sociological criteria these three facts leave no doubt that the surrealist group is either sub-secondary or secondary.

A further difference, and one which relates directly to the fact that modern

68

Art contra science

artists tend to form groups which aspire to an institutionalized state, is that Cellini and his contemporaries and, indeed, his successors through three centuries evinced relatively little interest in such topics as pure aesthetics, the philosophy of art and the relation of art to life. Yet these are matters of pro­found interest and importance to modern artistic groups. The reason for this lack of interest on Cellini's part lies in the fact that in his time, and for a long period afterwards, art was an industry, and the accent therefore rested on craftsmanship. Consequently Cellini was always anxious to explain new techniques in casting bronze and working clay or gold, but m a d e no attempt to expound an aesthetic rationale. M o d e r n artists have less interest in techni­calities, and are far more concerned with the rationale. This shift of interest is explained by the greater integration of society and all its facets, and by the increased interaction between activities which were once more or less autono­mous—both of which are attributable to those consequences of technological development which have already been mentioned; namely, improved c o m m u ­nications, better transport systems and better facilities for mass information distribution.

Until very recently a m a n was a goldsmith or a painter first and an artist second. Today the reverse is true. Furthermore the modern artist is nearly always committed to a particular school or movement . A n d around these movements grow groups which strive to achieve an institutionalized state. The surrealists are a case in point. This m o v e m e n t began in 1912 w h e n the works of M a r c Chagall were described as surnaturel (the word from which surrealism was derived) and by 1924, when the surrealist manifesto was published, there was a strong surrealist group in existence. The manifesto, which is perhaps the clearest indication of the fact that the group was trying to delineate its scope, attitudes, affinities and sympathies and so achieve something of the status of a formal institution, shows that over and above assimilating the psychological teachings of Sigmund Freud into their aesthetic rationale the surrealists were bent on standing against various social and artistic conventions and where committing themselves to certain political and philosophical movements which had had n o previous connexion with art. Obviously this approach has little resemblance to the traditional approach of an artist to his art, and in point of fact the preoccupation with unrelated political, cultural and philosophical matters indicates that it is not the approach of an artist to his art but the approach of a special-interest group to society as a whole. B y issuing a manifesto (and the manifesto or an equivalent proclama­tion is inevitably a feature of those contemporary artistic movements around which groups form) the group at once officially establishes itself as an entity and clarifies its position.

W e n o w begin to see h o w radically the social position of the artist has changed since the advent of the technological era. At the time of the high Renaissance —and the conclusions w e draw from a study of this period hold with only

69

Art contra science

slight modifications for all periods prior to the technological era—art was autonomous, and the artist was essentially a craftsman, albeit a distinguished one. Compared with a modern artist he knew very little about current trends; his only advertisement was his o w n work, and his only publicity the recom­mendation of those for w h o m he worked. H e belonged to no special-interest group other than the relatively small and sometimes unstable primary group comprised of his immediate acquaintances. A n d this group was not committed to any particular politico-cultural rationale.

Today the situation is very different. T o begin with, art can no longer be regarded as autonomous. Individual artistic disciplines do, of course, enjoy m u c h the same limited autonomy as scientific disciplines, but art as a whole, like science as a whole, is deeply integrated into the structure of our culture. T h e implications of this fact cannot be discussed in detail since they raise so m a n y minute questions of purely technical interest; but broadly speaking it means that the average artist's status and position within the social milieu is quite different from what it was before. Then there is the fact that in modern culture there are enormous possibilities for advertising and publicity through a wide variety of media. Consequently artists can acquire a great reputation in a comparatively short time. This also applies to groups, particularly special-interest groups. The groups themselves n o w tend to be institutionalized and, since art is deeply integrated into the culture, the groups are—and hence each m e m b e r is—to a greater or lesser extent committed to some politico-cultural and/or philosophical rationale.

O f course it is not difficult to find examples of individual artists w h o confound these conclusions, but sociological statements are, of necessity, generalizations. A n d such generalizations are not disproved by exceptions in the w a y that universal physical laws would be. Bearing in mind, then, the m o r e or less general nature of our observations w e can summarize the changes brought about in the world of art by saying that science and technology m a d e possible greater interaction between artists, and led to art becoming more deeply and consciously integrated into culture. At the same time other scientific develop­ments provided artists with new perspectives of time and space, n e w views of the nature of mental and psychic activity, and n e w media for artistic expres­sion. A s a consequence there arose a n e w kind of artist with a n e w and more consciously cultural approach to art, and hence a n e w kind of art.

ARTISTS AS A SPECIAL-INTEREST PRESSURE GROUP

That modern artists should tend to found schools and movements and form groups is to be expected : on a popular plane because it is normal for individuals with similar interests to conjoin in interaction; and on a psycho-social plane because in a complex atomistic society the group is invariably a more powerful unit than the individual, can acquire better facilities, and is m o r e readily

70

Art contra science

recognized by society as a whole. There is also a good reason for such groups and movements being occupied with cultural questions which bear no direct relation to art, since to a society as conscious of its culture as w e are today the facets of cultural activity are too deeply integrated to be disassociable. Therefore to the artist art, life and social phenomena are interrelated. All art is in some respect a reflection of life, and is to a degree determined by life. Being aware of this the artist of today would consider it an omission to take no account of social and cultural factors.

W h a t is not immediately obvious, and what requires explanation, is w h y twentieth-century artistic groups should demonstrate so m u c h eagerness to establish themselves officially. W h y , in fact, should they strive to achieve an institutionalized state? In order to answer this it is necessary to go more deeply into the theory of social groups.

In addition to the basic classification w e have already discussed, groups can be further classified according to whether they are static or progressive. A static group is one whose purpose is to fulfil a specific constant function. A progressive group is one which exists either in order to further some cause, or to achieve a particular objective. These definitions are straightforward enough, but their practical application is not always a simple matter. It is, of course, obvious that, as the function of a primary group like the primitive tribe is to provide its members with rudimentary social amenities and a measure of security, it is a static group. A n d it is equally obvious that a political party exists in order to gain public recognition and support for a political theory and is therefore a progressive group. But in both these cases the purpose of the group, its raison d'être, is perfectly clear. It is w h e n the purpose of the group is not clear that the classification in question becomes difficult. T h e secondary group formed by nineteenth-century clergy is a case in point. A s a group they constituted a professional body and the special interest which this body subserved was the Church—its organization, policy, d o g m a and so on. This in itself would indicate that the group was static, but it so happens that the Church has always had explicitly evangelical aspirations : it seeks to expound the scriptures, enlighten the populace, and spread the faith. This is a progressive aim. So w e are led to the unsatisfactory conclusion that the group was both static and progressive. This kind of impasse is often encountered in the classification of groups according to whether they are static or progressive. Sometimes, however, it can be resolved by examining the group's reaction w h e n it enters into conflict with another group. In this event static groups tend to adopt a defensive role, while progressive groups are bound to become aggressive. B y this index the nineteenth-century clergy falls into the static category, for in the conflict arising out of the schism between science and theology they sought only to defend their position and maintain the validity of their beliefs, whereas the scientists, w h o were, still are, and prob­ably always will be a progressive group, sought, in the words of Professor

71

Art contra science

Tyndall, to 'wrest from theology the entire domain of cosmological theory'.

N o w , as w e shall presently see, the main twentieth-century artistic group, which, incidentally, is comprised of numerous smaller groups best regarded as factions of the main group, was for a period a progressive group, but later became static. In a sense this was the very object with which the main group or rather its component groups, sought to achieve an institutionalized state. For it is a fact that, with certain exceptions, progressive groups do ultimately aspire to staticism. Before going into this and the reasons for it, w e must, however first consider two points which have so far been wholly neglected. They are (a) the factors which determine the social power of the group, and (b) the factors which determine the stability and integration of the group. Both are equally important, but the latter should be dealt with first.

Reduced to essentials, a group consists in a collection of individuals united by some c o m m o n bond or interest. A n d the stability of the group and the degree of integration it achieves depend on the nature and consequence of that c o m m o n interest. If the interest is merely circumstantial the group will probably be unstable and liable to disintegrate. For example, a group of expa­triates of different nationalities living together in the same quarter of some continental town have in c o m m o n only the fact that they are all aliens living in proximity to one another. This in itself is not a strong bond, so all other things being equal they will not feel any moral responsibility toward the group and m a y leave it at any time they wish. But if the interest is more than circum­stantial, if it consists in each m e m b e r of the group identifying himself with something extraneous to the group but which the group represents, the sta­bility and degree of integration will be greatly increased. Thus, if the group of expatriates were not of diverse nationalities but all of the same nationality, they would naturally identify themselves and each other with their h o m e country, and the group would represent that country. Which would m e a n that the group would be held together by a bond of considerable consequence, and every m e m b e r of the group would feel a certain sense of moral obligation to the group. Finally, if the group is united by a vital c o m m o n interest—that is to say, something having a cardinal bearing upon the physical, material, moral or social well-being of each m e m b e r of the group—the group's stability will be of the very highest order. Such would be the case if the expatriates were being oppressed in some w a y , for the c o m m o n interest would then be the resistance to oppression and the preservation of autonomy—which are, of course, aims that can only be accomplished by the group acting as a group, not, save in very special circumstances, by individual members of the group acting independently.

It goes without saying that other factors such as leadership and efficient organization also play a part in ensuring the stability of a group, but it is more convenient to deal with these in connexion with the power of the group. So

72

Art contra science

w e m a y say that stability and integration are variables, and that they vary in direct correlation to the nature and consequence of the bond or interest uniting the group and are therefore related to the function of the group.

Turning n o w to the question of the social influence of the group w e find that this depends to some extent upon the subject w e have just been discussing. A stable group whose members form a well-integrated unit will, in virtue of its superior organization and unanimity, have a greater power potential than a group similar in other respects but lacking stability and integration. But stability and integration alone are not enough to ensure social power. There are several other factors to be taken into account. The first that comes to mind in numerical strengh. It would be difficult to over-emphasize the importance of this, since it is very often a decisive factor. Quite loosely organized groups like reform movements achieve their aims mainly because they have the advantage of numerical strength. But not all large groups are necessarily powerful. N o matter h o w big the group is it will not be truly powerful unless it is reasonably homogeneous, has good morale, competent leaders, a degree of independence within the social framework and lastly a specific social function.

N o w it is clear that these things are interdependent. The homogeneity of a group will depend partly upon the strength of the bond uniting it, and partly upon its morale. Morale, in its turn, depends upon the competence of the leaders and the group's independence within the social framework. A n d the group's independence within the social framework will depend upon the group having a specific social function.

This interdependence rather complicates the subject, since it is not always possible to isolate the various factors in any given case. A n d in the present case further complications arise from the fact that w e really have to consider not merely one but several groups. These groups certainly all lie within the structure of one large, loosely integrated secondary group, but the configura­tion of the structure is complex. O n the one hand there are the groups composed of the different kinds of artists; the writers, the painters, the musicians and so on. O n the other hand there are what might be termed cultural groups like the surrealists, impressionists and realists. These groups overlap. For example, a m a n m a y be a writer and also a surrealist. But there is little or no consis­tency about this. S o m e writers m a y be surrealists, yet a far greater number are realists. However, it does not follow that it is normal for writers to be realists. Even if w e confine our remarks to a particular generation and culture it does not follow. In fact there are no satisfactory correlations between the members of these two kinds of groups. But this is not our chief difficulty. Our chief difficulty is that with so m a n y overlapping groups to consider it is almost impossible to analyse the structure of the main artistic group.

W e can easily analyse the structure of a closely integrated special-interest group like the surrealists. W e can even—though this is m u c h more difficult— analyse the internal structure of a loosely integrated, homogeneous special-

73

Art contra science

interest group like one composed of writers or painters. But when w e c o m e to the main artistic group, which is both heterogeneous and loosely integrated, w e find that even the general pattern of dominance is far from clear. A n d in point of fact it has no true hierarchy. Such a pattern of dominance as exists, exists only in virtue of the pattern of dominance within the structure of its integral groups or factions. This particular pattern of dominance is, of course, in a more or less constant state of flux. Consequently potential leaders m a y emerge briefly, but none are able to establish themselves independently of the group or faction to which they belong. So the main artistic group remains virtually leaderless.

Yet, oddly enough, the main artistic group is quite definitely institutionalized. A n d w e m a y ask h o w this came about when the group is without proper leaders and has no hierarchy. The answer is that it was brought about vicariously through the conscious efforts of first one then another of its component groups. Thus w e arrive back at our original question: w h y should the various artistic groups aspire to an institutionalized state? There is only one answer to this : it is because these groups have always been progressive.

But let us go into this in somewhat greater detail. A s w e have seen, the tendency of artists consciously to form groups dates from the advent of the modern technological era. The years that followed the sudden acceleration of scientific and technological evolution disrupted continuity with the past. The effect of this on artists was to m a k e them more keenly and intellectually aware of what they had long sensed instinctively; namely, that the traditional Western art built up over the years was outmoded and that the very canons of art were archaic. A s a consequence, avant-garde artists became occupied with the problem of developing a new kind of art which would be in keeping with the Zeitgeist. W h e n n e w ideas and theories came into being those with w h o m they found favour would form a group. Normally these new ideas would evolve at a primary group level; either through the genius of one m a n or through the concerted efforts of an existing primary group. But when the idea gained popularity and support, the original group would tend to expand into a sub-secondary group. At this stage the founder members of the group would naturally wish to consolidate their position in the hierarchy of the group. T o do this it would be necessary to institutionalize the group. The main body of the group would support any trend in this direction for rather different reasons. Whereas the founders of the movement would only be partially conscious of the group as a social and cultural entity, and tend rather to regard the group collectively as supporters of the movement which they had originated and which they wanted to promulgate for essentially personal reasons involving prestige and ideals, the body of the group would, and to a very m u c h greater extent than the founders, be conscious of the group as a social and cultural entity. Accordingly, all members of the group w h o were fully committed to the movement would conceive of the group as a progressive, special-interest pres-

74

Art contra science

sure group. N o w , although they might not be able to verbalize this concept and might not be consciously aware of the social dynamics involved, they would none the less realize that if the group were to achieve its aim (which, of course, would be to supersede all existing movements and establish their o w n as the predominant contemporary art) it would have to clarify its cultural position and gain social recognition. Hence w e find that practically every twentieth-century artistic movement has m a d e some attempt to achieve an institutiona­lized state. A n d because a number of them have succeeded the main artistic group has also become institutionalized.

But what of the main artistic group? W e have seen that it has neither leaders nor a true hierarchy, and that it consists only in a number of component groups. W e have also seen that the group dominance pattern within the structure of the main group is in a more or less constant state of flux. A n d since the c o m ­ponent groups are often opposed to one another w e have to regard them as factions. But is this legitimate? Indeed, are w e justified in maintaining the existence of a main artistic group? Would it not be both simpler and more accurate to say that artists are divided into a number of special-interest groups between which there are certain limited interrelations?

In point of fact there are sound sociological reasons for postulating a main artistic group incorporating the various groups w e have mentioned. T o begin with, the various groups overlap, and this means that they are, at the very least, closely integrated. Secondly, there is the indisputable basic fact that, while individual artists differ enormously both in their attitude toward and their practice of art, there is between them a unity of purpose. Thirdly, there are certain phenomena which are only explicable in terms of a main artistic group. Finally (and this is probably the decisive factor) there have been occasions when all artists, or at any rate all avant-garde artists, have acted as a group.

However, w e cannot gainsay the contention that the main artistic group lacks several things which are essential to an efficacious pressure group. It is, perhaps, misleading to say that it is heterogeneous, but it certainly lacks the kind of homogeneity that makes such groups as political parties so powerful in social interaction. Then there is its lack of competent leaders which is a serious disadvantage under all conditions of conflict and competition. The group has a measure of independence and is as autonomous as any large social group in existence today, but the importance of its social function is decreasing. So w e must conclude that, while some of the component factions of the main artistic group are powerful pressure groups, the main group is not. A n d this had serious, far-reaching consequences at the time of the schism between art and science.

ART CONTRA SCIENCE

A s w e have just seen, one of the reasons for postulating the existence of a main artistic group is that there have been occasions w h e n all avant-garde artists

75

Art contra science

have, regardless of their personal affinities and antipathies, acted as a group, and the reaction against science is an example of this. N o matter whether the various attacks upon science have been m a d e by individual artists or by groups of artists they have invariably been m a d e either specifically in the n a m e of the main artistic group or more generally in the n a m e of the 'arts'. Naturally m a n y of the so-called spokesmen of the main artistic group have been self-styled, but the fact remains that they saw fit to speak not merely for themselves nor for some particular group or faction, but for 'the arts' as a whole.

But it should not be thought that because attacks upon science have inva­riably been m a d e in the n a m e of the main artistic group the schism occurred instantaneously. N o r that all artistic factions reacted against science at the same time. Like the theological reaction against science, the artistic reaction spread gradually up to the time of the actual schism, manifesting itself chiefly in increasingly anti-scientific attitudes. O n the other hand the reaction was not imperceptibly slow. Only three decades separate the optimistic 'scientific' novels of H . G . Wells from the cynical, sceptical, anti-scientific Brave New World of Aldous Huxley. A n d w e m a y note that a comparable period elapsed between the publication of the Bridgewater Treatises and the violent attacks u p o n science which followed Professor Tyndall's address to the British Asso­ciation in 1874. However, there is one important difference between theology contra science and art contra science. Science impinged directly on theology, and the antagonism between them was mutual at a group level. But science does not impinge directly on art, and art does not impinge on science at all, so the antagonism is not mutual at group level. In fact it is very m u c h one-sided. It is the artists rather than the scientists w h o are aggressive. The reason for this is that scientists have no reason to be opposed to art. Whereas the tradi­tional nineteenth-century theological doctrine constituted a denial of scientific doctrines there is no essential artistic doctrine which can be said to contradict science. Scientists m a y consider some artistic beliefs unlikely; they m a y even hold that a few of the more extreme views held by artists are demonstrably untrue, but they have no cause to oppose these views in the way that they would have to oppose a widely held thesis that contradicted, say, the second law of thermodynamics. So the schism between art and science was largely if not entirely due to a reaction on the part of artists. Initially at least scientists had nothing to do with it.

The questions which n o w obtain are w h y did artists react against science, and what form did this reaction take? N o w w e k n o w some of the things which disturbed the relations between art and science. W e k n o w that artists became aware that science had disrupted continuity with the past. In itself this did not matter very m u c h , since the disruption had extended to the sphere of art with the result that modern artists had little or no affinity with their classical prede­cessors. But together with this awareness came the feeling that the scientific environment was not one in which the artistic temperament could flourish,

76

Art contra science

and the belief that the importance of the arts was decreasing in inverse ratio to the growing cultural importance of science. A m o n g other things this led to futurism, a movement which sought to emulate the force of a machine and which glorified power. Out of futurism came dadaism which was one of the first overt signs of the coming schism. With its emphasis on the irrational and the absurd, dadaism represented a disillusioned rejection of both past and present. But unlike the futurists the dadaists felt no urge to press forward into the future since they foresaw an austere culture dominated by an arid technology.

Not long afterwards artists began to feel that science was usurping the cultural position hitherto held by art, and also that scientific methods such as analysis and dissection were undermining the very structure of art. A n d in spite of the fact that the surrealists had incorporated psychoanalytical theories into their rationale the majority of artists felt about psychology what Oscar Wilde presumably felt when he said 'Psychology is in its infancy as a science. I hope, in the interests of art, it will always remain so. '

It is not possible to assign a precise date to the schism between art and science, but the anti-scientific attitude seems to have become generally widespread by the early nineteen-twenties. At any rate it was in the art of this period that a distinct anti-scientific content first became discernible. Moreover, it was at about this time that aesthetic literature began to show a marked anti-analy­tical bias, and also that anti-scientific manifestos first m a d e their appearance in numbers. Since then an enormous anti-scientific literature has accumulated. F r o m a study of this literature it is possible to built up an extremely interesting psychopathology of group prejudice.

Anti-scientific aesthetic literature is characterized by three things : firstly, a denial of the validity of'scientific' analyses of art; secondly, an insistence that art and aesthetics are not subject to anything comparable to physical laws; and thirdly, the contention that judgements of art and beauty are wholly subjective and non-rational. Thus w e find numerous statements of the follow­ing genre : (a) . . . the creative element in works of art . . . (is) . . . some­thing that will always elude the analysis and measurement to which science by its method is committed; (b) . . . scientists are not content with the accept­ance of their credentials in the sphere of material concerns only; they claim to be arbiters of truth in ethical and aesthetic judgements also; (c) a scientific tyranny denying the reality and importance of the super-rational values would be as distastrous as a popular tyranny dictated by ' the c o m m o n sense of the ordinary m a n ' .

These three statements are taken from the text of a typical anti-scientific aesthetic philosophy, and they epitomize the contemporary attitudes and beliefs of the main artistic group. W e are not here concerned to examine the veracity of such statements since that is something which lies rather in the realm of philosophy than in the sphere of the social sciences, but w e must, in passing, note that at least two of these particular statements [namely (b) and (c) ] are

77

Art contra science

entirely without foundation. In point of fact they reflect certain myths arising out of prejudices. A n d this is significant, for what most clearly emerges from a study of contemporary aesthetic literature is that the current antipathy to science is not so m u c h the outcome of logical reasoning as the consequence of emotionally inspired prejudice. Similarly, the reasons artists give for their opposition to science are not genuine logical deductions but rather rationali­zations of emotionally coloured feelings which are themselves irrational. Partly as a result of this, and partly because artists are, as a group, extraordi­narily ill-informed on the subject of science, various myths and stereotypes have come into being. T o discuss each one of these in detail would be to go beyond the scope of this paper, but there are two that merit special attention.

These are both myths, and both relate to statements (b) and (c) above. T h e first is that science is consciously trying to m a k e incursions into the realm of art with the express intention of analysing the nature of art with a view to imposing s o m e kind of laws which will devalue art. There is no justification whatever for this belief. It is true that science, or more specifically psychology, has m a d e incursions into art, but when this has not been incidental it has been purely for the purpose of disinterested study. It is also true that attempts have been m a d e to account for artistic creation in psychological terms, but no psy­chologist has ever tried to impose restrictive laws on artists. A n d no science or branch of science has ever wanted to set itself up as an arbiter of aesthetic judgements. So what this m y t h really represents is an irrational fear on the part of artists.

The second myth is that science claims to assess the value of a work of art by its 'social usefulness'. This is equally unfounded, but what is more inter­esting is that it is not even a modern idea. O n the contrary it can be traced back at least as far as the fourth century B . C . , and was a feature of Plato's philo­sophy. If any modern scientists advocate a similar method of evaluating art they are in a minority. But the myth insists that all scientists hold this approach to art. A n d so it is with practically all other myths.

N o w , owing to the prevalence of such myths and their corresponding stereotypes, artists have acquired an almost completely erroneous conception of science and its aims. At a group level, and w e must remember that this is largely a matter of group interaction, this misconception has had a profound effect. In the first place, it was a major determinant in the orientation of the main artistic group in relation to society as a whole. In the second, it led the artistic group to adopt a more extreme and uncompromising position than most artists would have considered necessary if they had been accurately informed on the subject of science. A n d this in its turn led directly to the group becoming static.

F r o m the time of its inception to the time of the schism with science, the main artistic group was, above all, a progressive group. Its aim was, as w e have already seen, to develop a n e w and original art which would be in keeping

78

Art contra science

with the Zeitgeist. That is to say, an art which would be compatible with, and acceptable to, a deeply integrated scientific society with a complex, interrelated culture no facet of which can be entirely autonomous. After the schism, h o w ­ever, the group became alienated from society. A s an out-group artists were consciously opposing society. Therefore art was, as the more articulate artists so rightly pointed out, a form of social protest. O n the one hand, then, artists were concerned to oppose the incursions of science into art, and on the other, to oppose society. In effect this amounted to the same thing, since society cannot be dissociated from culture which, as most artists were aware, had by this time become dominated by science. In other words, artists were opposing science both directly and indirectly. W e have already touched upon the direct opposition to science which took the form of an anti-scientific aesthetic philo­sophy, and w e need only mention the obvious fact that this opposition was, of necessity, defensive. The indirect opposition took the form of social protest delivered through the m e d i u m of art itself. This art was—and w e have the artists' o w n authority for the fact—intended to shock, dismay and discomfit society. Once again this was essentially a defensive tactic. By shocking society artists maintained a degree of alienation and thus prevented the disintegration and social absorption of the group. But as a consequence the main artistic group became static.

That this was deleterious there can be no doubt, but to what extent and in what respect w e can only conjecture. It is as though the early Christian church had suddenly become static s o m e years after the Apostles but before the time of Origen and Tertullian. O n e thing w e can say with complete certainty is that, if there had been no schism, the group would have remained progressive, in which case the history of the development of twentieth-century art would have been very different.

THE POSSIBILITY OF RAPPROCHEMENT

The ultimate outcome of the present situation cannot be foreseen. At present the artists are successfully maintaining the status quo. History, however, suggests that large static secondary groups have a distinct tendency to become unstable and eventually to disintegrate. But this does not invariably happen, and it m a y be that the present situation will continue indefinitely without the artistic group showing signs of either decay or disintegration. Yet it does not seem feasible that an overtly anti-scientific group can long prevail in a culture which will become more and m o r e scientific with every passing decade. A n d if the group as such were to lapse into decay there can be no question but that art as w e k n o w it today would cease to exist.

So if art aspires to anything higher than mere entertainment, if it is to retain its importance; if, indeed, it is to occupy in the culture of the future the position it occupied in the cultures of the past; if it is to do these things—and most

79

Art contra science

scientists will agree that it is of some importance that it should—then it must be reconciled with science and science with it. But is reconciliation possible? At the very beginning of this paper w e attributed the antipathy between art and science to the fact that science has its origins in the intellect whereas art has its origins in the emotions. Does this m e a n that the antipathy is immutable?

Fortunately the answer is no. W h a t artists are reacting against is not, in the ultimate analysis, science itself, but rather what they conceive to be the nature of science. A n d , as w e have seen, the artistic conception of the nature of science is almost wholly erroneous. N o w since it is largely as a result of this that artists have become so unreservedly anti-scientific, it follows that there is a possibility of effecting a rapprochement by correcting the errors in the artists' conception of science. Thus the problem resolves itself into one of education. However , this assertion requires careful qualification, for the need is for education of a special kind, and, because it is a matter of education at a secondary group level, there is an unusual problem of communication involved. It is not simply a question of making the vocabulary of science comprehensible to laymen, nor of elucidating the technical intricacies of scientific method. It is a question of first eradicating pernicious presuppositions and then communicating to a group whose members are characterized by intellectual originality and great emotional sensitivity, the essence of the scientific attitude and, though in n o n ­technical terms, the true nature of the philosophy of science with particular reference to its k n o w n limitations.

This is clearly not a simple, straightforward undertaking, but there are no a priori reasons w h y it could not be accomplished, and if it were achieved, and if it were to bring about a reconciliation between art and science it is probable that artists would discover in science a vast untapped source of inspiration, in which event art would not merely survive but flourish.

80

ETC. A REVIEW O F G E N E R A L SEMANTICS

Edited by S. I. Hayakawa

Volume XVII N u m b e r

Communication and the h u m a n community: The great books idolatry and kindred delusions

The phoenix nest, or informa­tion retrieved

Intensional orientation in mental patients

A n American tourist in the Soviet Union: S o m e semantic reflec­tions

Language development and lineali ty

The writer's itch : H o w to write obvious lies

Dream symbols as disguises Legal language as semantic fog Where can w e see the face of

time? Plus book reviews, news and notes.

Per issue $1, per year $4

For free sample copy of this issue, write :

INTERNATIONAL SOCIETY F O R G E N E R A L SEMANTICS

S. I. H A Y A K A W A

MALCOLM M . FERGUSON

HENRY N. PETERS

RICHARD DETTERING

DAVID SMILLIE

MARTIN MALONEY

C. SCOTT MOSS

RICHARD A. FALK

ALEXANDER GOLDSTEIN

400 W . North Avenue Chicago 10, 111., U S A

BIOLOGY AND HUMAN AFFAIRS

A journal for teachers and social workers, designed to present an integrated approach to all the life sciences as they affect education, social welfare and human culture. Contributions are invited.

In the Autumn issue, 1961 Editorial Comment : On Human Growth Advances in Antibiotic Therapy, by Robert K n o x , M . A . , M . D . , F . R . C . P . The Chemical Treatment of Mental Disorder, by Sir Aubrey Lewis, M . D . F . R . C . P . Developments in Yeast Biochemistry, by G . Harris, P h . D . , D . I . C . Some Observations on Pollination, by G . H . Knight, B.Sc. A Survey of some Trends in the Teaching of Biological Science in English Schools, 1900-60, by G . W . Tracey. Book Reviews

Biology and Human Affairs appears 3 times a year, in the Spring, S u m m e r and Autumn. Annual subscription : 15s. (US$2.50) post free.

Obtainable from : The British Social Biology Council, 69 Eccleston Square, London, S . W . I .

Bulletin of the atomic scientists

A magazine of science and public affairs

'...the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists... has been of help to m e in under­standing some aspects of the problems that have been thrust upon the world by the coming of the atomic and hydrogen bombs. A s these problems concern our survival, authoritative information about them is of great importance. The Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists has supplied this information with all the authority of the experts. I would wish that large numbers of people all over the world should have the benefit of getting this information....'

Prime Minister Jarwaharlal Nehru

Send your subscription to : Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, Dept. 1-1-4, 434 South Wabash Avenue, Chicago 5, Illinois.

Subscription rates: U S A —1 year, $6; 2 years, Sil; 3 years, $15. Canada and Pan American Postal Union—

1 year, $6.50; 2 years, $12; 3 years, $16.50. All other countries—1 year, $7; 2 years, $13;

3 years, $17.50. r^»

Synthèses Revue mensuelle internationale paraissant à Bruxelles sous la direction de Maurice L A M B Ì LLIOTTE

Sommaire du numéro 183 d'août 1961

E D I T O R I A L , par Maurice L A M B I L L I O T T E Introduction, par Fernande L A N C K S W E I R T Symbolisme et progrès, par Roger M U N S C H Des symboles, du symbolisme et de la loi d'analogie,

par A . B E R G E R La symbolique, son caractère hiératique,

par R . A . S C H W A L L E R de L U B I C Z Le message de la Grande Pyramide, par Théo K Œ L L I K E R Le symbole dans la tradition ésotérique de l'Orthodoxie orientale,

par Jean A . L U C Propos sur le symbolisme phallique dans l'hindouisme,

par D E K A Y S E R Symbole et signification de la ligne, par Marcel L E C O M T E Pensée atomique, pensée symboliste, par Benno S T E F A N Symbolisme et détermination des propriétés des composés chimiques,

par K . H I T S C H L E R A la recherche du symbole, par le D r M . E N G E L S O N Analyse d'un symbole actuel, par le D r H . S E U N T J E N S Aux sources de la poésie, par François M A R E T Cosmogonies. La peinture d'Anita de Caro, par Raoul V A N E I G E M

Secrétaire de rédaction : M " » Christiane T H Y S - S E R V A I S , 230, rue J.-Fr.-De Becker, Bruxelles 15

Prix du numéro : 50 F B . L'abonnement : 500 FB. C C P 757.79

Sur demande, un numéro spécimen sera envoyé gratuitement

DIOGENE EElfÄLE

Rédacteur en chef : Roger

Friedrich H . Tenbruck

Donald Holzman

Walter A d a m s

Marie Delcourt

Zygmunt Adamczewski

Chroniques

Stefan Morawski

K . A . Nilakanta Sastri

CAILIOIS H U M A I N E S

(octobre-décembre 1961)

La jeunesse moderne

Une conception chinoise du héros

Économie, idéologie et politique aux États-Unis

Valeur sociale d'un rite religieux : la première communion collective

L'art est temporel

Les péripéties de la théorie du réalisme socialiste

L'Inde moderne et l'Occident

Rédaction et administration : place de Fontenoy. Paris-7' (SUFfren 9Í-70) Revue trimestrielle paraissant en quatre langues : anglais, arabe, espagnol, français L'édition française est publiée par la librairie Gallimard, S, rue Sébastien-Botttn, Paris-7* Les abonnements sont souscrits auprès de cette maison tCCP 169-33 Paris) Prix de vente au numéro : 2,60 NF. Tarifs d'abonnement : France, 9,20 NF; étranger, 12 NF

A good way to keep informed about European and world affairs is to read regularly

E U R O P A - A R C H I V The Journal of the German Council on Foreign Relations

Edited by Wilhelm Cornides

Article« In recent iuuei:

W A L T E * B Ö D I O H U M S K : Die Vereinten Nationen im Jahre 1959 U L R I C H K Ä O : Veröffentlichungen der Vereinten Nationen. 1959 J O I O E N v. PsELLwrrz: Die internationalen Verhandlunten über den Fall K u b a . C . M O N T A O O T W o o H M u n : Apartheid - d u Problem Südafrika»

Dokumentation ; Zar Ausrüstung der NATO-Streitkrafte mit Atomwaffen Der Fünfjahreaplan für die atomare Ausrottung und die Modernisierung der französischen Streitkräfte (1960-64

E U R O P A - A R C H I V , now in its 16th year of publication, contains articles and documents on international relations and a current chronology of world erents as well as review articles of recent publications.

Annual subscription (24 issues): D M 5 6 , plus postage. Specimen copies on request.

Deutsche Gesellschaft für Auswärtige Politik, Abt. Europa-Archiv. Gr. Eschenheimer Str. 16/18, Frankfurt a m Main (Germany).

INTERNATIONAL ASSOCIATIONS

Twelve issues, 1,000 pages a year Monthly, illustrated

THE REVIEW OF INTERNATIONAL ORGANIZATIONS AND MEETINGS

articles

by authorities on international organization and method

original research

on development and operation of international structure o n the interaction of private and public international organizations

regular features

new international organizations plans for new international organizations calendar of forthcoming international meetings giving :

date, place, n a m e of organization, type of meeting, reference to descriptive entry in the Yearbook of International Organizations, address of local organizing committee (every second month) brought up to date every mon th twice a year: complete calendar of all scheduled meetings, extending up to six or seven years ahead, with subject index

new international periodicals news about the activities of international non-governmental organizations official information compiled by the major intergovernmental bodies for the

benefit of leaders of non-governmental organizations regular lists of n e w addresses, bringing the Yearbook of International Organi­

zations up to date participation at international meetings bibliographical sections

special issues

devoted to particular aspects or sectors of international co-operation four or five per a n n u m over 100 pages each

Published by the U N I O N O F I N T E R N A T I O N A L A S S O C I A T I O N S

(Palais d'Egmont, Bruxelles 1) international non-governmental organization founded in 1910. Consultative

status with the Economic and Social Council of the United Nations (September 1951) and with Unesco (November 1952)

Read SCIENCE AND FILM Published quarterly by the International Scientific Film Association

Annual subscription: 12/6 Single copy: 3/6 Post free

Specimen free on request

Business Manager: V . S M I T H ,

Clevedon Printing C o . Ltd. Six Ways, Clevedon (Somerset)

Current Issue Volume 8, N o . 1 Memories of ISFA Festival

by Soviet Film Director D . Yashnin

N e w Guinea, 1904-1906. Early Film Research in Anthropology and Eth­nology

by Paul Spindler

O n the Spot System of Commentary Synchronisation

by Jan Jacoby

Catalogues reviewed. Film lists

Announcing...

the wealth of India

A Dictionary of Indian Raw Materials and Industrial Products

R A W M A T E R I A L S , Vol. V (H-K)

Provides a comprehensive survey of published information on the distribution, availability and utilization of the plant, mineral and animal resources of India.

N o . of entries, 318 Includes articles on Helianthus (sunflower), Hevea (para rubber), Hibiscus (mesta), Holarrhena (kurchi), Hordeum (barley), Indigofera (indigo), Ipomoea (sweet potato), Jasminum (jasmine), Juglans (walnut), and Juniperus (juniper); iron ores and kyanite; insects and insect pests.

D e m y 4to, xxviii + 332 + xii pp., 16 plates, 169 illustrations. Price Rs.30.00 (postage extra). Publications Directorate, CSIR, Old Mill Road, N e w Delhi 1.

IL POLITICO RIVISTA TRIMESTRALE DI

SCIENZE POLITICHE D I R E T T A D A

B R U N O LEONI

SETTEMBRE 1961 A N N O XXVI N. 3

B . L E O N I - L'approccio economisti«) nello studio delle scelte politiche 477

— The Economie Approach to politics 491 C . C R O W E - Pragmatic and Progressive Characteristics of

Modern American Historical Writing 503 — Caratteristiche «prammatistiche» e «progressiste» della

storiografia americana moderna 513

N O T E E DISCUSSIONI A . D E V A L L E S - L'incapacità delle assemblee costituenti di

elaborare costituzioni vitali 524 C . G I G L I O - A proposito di «colloqui» sull'Africa 530 K . T A K E U C H I - Problemi agricoli del Giappone nel periodo

post-bellico 542 S. B A S I L E - L a Costituzione che dobbiamo salvare 559 F. R O S S O L I L L O - Studio comparato sui reati di diffamazione

oltraggio e vilipendio 567 S . G . R O T E L L A - The Aged in the U.S.A. - A Note on a Study

on their Political Behavior 580 — U n o studio sul comportamento politico degli anziani ne­

gli Stati Uniti 584 F. LEIDI - Il ricambio del lavoro come fatto sociale 589

Attività degli istituti

Recensioni e segnalazioni

ISTITUTO DI SCIENZE POLITICHE U N I V E R S I T À DI P A V I A

PAVIA, I T A L Y

U N E S C O P U B L I C A T I O N S : N A T I O N A L DISTRIBUTORS

A F G H A N I S T A N Panuzai. Press Department, Royal Afghan MinlMry of Educa­tion, K A B U L .

A L B A N I A N . Sh. Botimele Nairn Frasherl. T K A N A .

ARGENTINA Editorial Sudamericana S.A., Alain» 500, B U E N O S Anus.

A U S T R A L I A Melbourne University Press, 369 Lonsdale Street, M E L B O U R N E CI (Victoria).

A U S T R I A Verla« Georg Fromme & Co., Spengergasse 39,

W I E N V .

B E L G I U M Office de publicité S.A. 16, rue Marcq, B R U X E L L E S I.

N . V . Standaard Boekhandel, Beldëld 151, ANTWERPEN. For 'The Courier": Louis de Lannoy, 22. place de Brouckerc,

B R U X E L L E S .

BOLIVIA Libreria Selecciones, avenida Camacho 369, L A P A Z . Libreria Universitaria, Universidad de San FranciscoXavier, S U C R E . Libreria 'Los Amigos del Libro', calle Perú 11, COCHABAliSA. Instituto de Estudios Sociales y Eco­nómicos. Universidad Mayor de San Simón Facultad de Ciencias Econó­micas. CasiUa 1392. COCHABAMBA.

BRAZIL Fundado Getúlio Vargas, 186 prala de Botafogo, cauta postal 4081, Río D E JANEIRO.

B U L G A R I A Raznolznos, 1, Tzar Assen, SOFIA.

B U R M A Burma Translation Society, 361 Prome Road,

R A N G O O N .

CAMBODIA Librairie Albert Portail, 14, avenue Boulloche,

PHNOH-PBNH.

C A N A D A The Queen's Printer,

O T T A W A (Ont.).

CBYLON Lake House Bookshop. P.O. Box 244, Lady Lochore Building 100 Parsons Road, COLOMBO 2.

CHILE Editorial Universitaria S.A., avenida B . O'Higgins 1058, casilla 10220. S A N T I A G O .

For 'The Courier': Comisión Nacional de la Unesco en Chile. calle San Antonio, 225, 7." piso. SANTIAOO.

C H I N A The World Book Co. Ltd., 99, Chungking South Road, Section l. TAIPEH. Taiwan (Formosa).

COLOMBIA Libreria Central. Carrera 6-A n." 14-32, B O G O T A . Libreria Buchholz Galería, avenida Iiménez de Quesada 8-40, B O G O T A . J. Germán Rodriguez N . , Oficina 201. Edificio Banco de Bogotá, apartado nacional 83, GlRARDOT.

C O S T A RICA Imprenta y Libreria Trejos, S.A., apartado 1313, S A N JOSÉ.

C U B A Libreria Económica, Pte. Zayas 505-7. apartado 113, L A H A B A N A .

C Z E C H O S L O V A K I A Artla Ltd., 30. Ve Smeckách. P R A H A 2.

D E N M A R K Ejnar Munksgaard Ltd.. 6 Norregade. K0BENHAVN K .

D O M I N I C A N R E P U B L I C Libreria Dominicana. Mercedes 49. apartado de correos 656. C I U D A D TRUJILLO.

E C U A D O R Casa de la Cultura Ecuatoriana, Núcleo del Guayas, Pedro Moncayo y 9 de Octubre, casilla de correo 3542, GUAYAQUIL.

EL SALVADOR Manuel Navas ¿t Cia.. 1.' avenida Sur 37, S A N S A L V A D O R .

ETHIOPIA International Press Agency, P . O . Box 120. A D D I S A B A B A .

F I N L A N D Akateeminen Klrjakauppa. 2 Keskuskatu, HELSINKI.

FRANCE Librairie de l'Unesco, place de Fontenoy, P A R B - 7 « .

F R E N C H W E S T INDIES Librairie J. Bocage, rue Lavoir, B.P. 208. F O R T - D E - F R A N C E (Martiniaue).

G E R M A N Y (FED. REP. ) R . Oldenbourg Verlag, Unesco-Vertrieb für Deutschland, Rosenheimerstrasse 145, M Ü N C H E N 8.

GREECE Librairie H . Kaufrmann, 28. rue du Stade. A T H È N E S .

G U A T E M A L A Comisión Nacional de la Unesco. 5.* Calle 6-79. Zona 1 (Altos). GUATEMALA.

HAITI Librairie ' A la Caravelle', 36, rue Roux. B.P. 111. P O R T - A U - P R I N C E .

H O N G K O N G Swindon Book Co., 25 Nathan Road K O W L O O N .

H U N G A R Y Kullura. P . O . Box 149. B U D A P E S T , 62.

INDIA Orient Longmans Ltd.: 17 Chittaranjan Ave.« C A L C U T T A 13.

Indian Mercantile Chamber. Nicol Road, B O M B A Y 1.

36a Mount Road. M A D R A S 2. Gunfoundry Road. HYDERABAD 1. Kanson House, 24/1 Asaf Ali Road. P.O. Box 386. N E W DELHI 1.

Sub~depots: Oxford Book and Stationery Co., 17 Park Street, C A L C U T T A 16 and

Scindla House. N E W D E L H I .

I N D O N E S I A Bappit Pusat P E R M A T A . Djalan Nasantara 22. D J A K A R T A .

I R A N Commission nationale Iranienne pour l'Unesco, avenue du Musée, TÉHÉRAN.

IRAQ McKenzie"! Bookshop, B A G H D A D .

IRELAND The National Press. 2 Wellington Road, Ballsbridge, D U B L I N .

ISRAEL Blumsteln's Bookstores Ltd., 35 Allenby Road and 48 Nahlat Benjamin Street. T E L A V I V .

I T A L Y Libreria Zanichelli, Portici del Pavaglione, B O L O G N A . Libreria Commissionarla

Sansoni (Agente generai), via Gino Capponi 26, casella postale 552, F I R E N Z E . Hoepli. via Ubico Hoepli, 5. MILANO. Libreria Internazionale Ulrico

Hoepli, Largo Chighl, R O M A . Libreria Internazionale

Modernissima, vìa della Mercede, 43, 45 R O M A . Libreria Paravia via Garibaldi. 23 TORINO.

JAMAICA Sangster's Book Room, 91 Harbour Street, KINGSTON. Knox Educational Services. S P A L D I N O S .

J A P A N Maruzen Co. Ltd.. 6 Tori-Nlchome. Nihonbashi, P . O . Box 605. Tokyo Central. T O K Y O .

JORDAN Joseph I. Bahous & Co. , Dar-ul-Kutub, Salt Road, P . O . Box 66, A M M A N .

K O R E A Korean National Commission for Unesco. P . O . Box Central 64, S E O U L .

L E B A N O N Librairie Antoine, A . Naufal et Frères. B.P. 656, B E Y R O U T H .

LIBERIA J. Momolu Lamara, 69 Front and Gurley Streets, MONROVIA.

L U X E M B O U R G Librairie Paul Brock, 22, Grand-Roe. LUXEMBOURG.

M A L A Y A (FEDERATION OF) & SINGAPORE

Federal Publications Ltd., Times House, River Valley Road, S I N G A P O R E .

M A L T A Saplenza's Library, 26 Kingsway. V A L L E T T A .

M A U R I T I U S Nalanda C o . Ltd. 30 Bourbon Street, P O R T - L O U I S .

M E X I C O Editorial Hermes, Ignacio Mariscal 41, M É X I C O , 1 D . F .

M O N A C O British Library, 30. boulevard des Moulins, M O N T E - C A R L O .

M O R O C C O Centre de diffusion documentaire du BEPI, B.P. 211. R A B A T .

NETHERLANDS N . V . Martlnus Niihoff. Lange Voorhout 9. ' S - G R A V E N B A O E .

N E T H E R L A N D S ANTILLES G . C . T . Van Dorp & Co. (Ned. Ant.) N . V . . W O L E M S T A D (Curacao, N . A . ) .

N E W Z E A L A N D Unesco Publications Centre, 100 Hackthorne Road, C H R I S T C H U R C H .

NICARAGUA Librería Cultural Nicaragüense, calle 15 de Septiembre 115, M A N A G U A .

NIGERIA C M S (Nigeria) Bookshops. P . O . Box 174. L A O O S .

N O R W A Y A.S. Bokhtemet, Lille Grensen 7, O S L O .

P A K I S T A N The West-Pak Publishing Co. Ltd., Unesco Publications House, P . O . Box 374. 56-N Gulberg Industrial Colony, L A H O R E .

P A N A M A Cultural Panameña, Avenida 7.» n.° Tl-49, apartado de correos 2018, P A N A M Á .

P A R A G U A Y Agencia de Librerías de Salvador Nizza, Yegros, entre 25 de Mayo y Mcal. Estigarribia, A S U N C I Ó N .

PERU • E S E D A L - Oficina de Servicios'. Dpto. de Venta de Publicaciones. Jirón Huancavellca (calle Ortiz) 368, apartado 577, L I M A .

PHILIPPINES Philippine Education Co. Inc., 1104 Castillejos. Qulapo, P . O . Box 620, MANILA.

POLAND Osrodek Rozpowszechnianla Wydawnictw Naukowych PAN, Palac Kultury i Nauti, W A R S Z A W A .

PORTUGAL Dlas & Andrade Lda., Llvrarla Portugal, rua do Canno 70. LISBOA.

RHODESIA & NYASALAND (FEDERATION OF)

The Book Centre. First Street, SALISBURY (Southern Rhodesia).

RUMANIA Cartimex, Str. Aristide Briand 14-18, P . O . Box 134-135, BucuREsn.

SENEGAL La Maison du livre, 13, rue Roume, DAKAR.

SINGAPORE See Malaya (Federation of).

R E P U B L I C O F S O U T H A F R I C A Van Shalk's Bookstore (Pty.) Ltd.. Libri Building. Church Street, P . O . Box 724. PRETORIA.

SPAIN Libreria Científica Medlnaceli, Duque de Medlnaceli 4, MADRID, 14.

UNESCO B O O K COUPONS

For ' The Courier': Ediciones Iberoamericanas S.A., calle de Oíate 15, M A D R I D .

S W E D E N A / B C E . Fritzes Kungl. Hovbokhandel, Fredsgatan 2, S T O C K H O L M 16. For 'The Courter': Svenska Unescorädet, Vasagatan 15-17, S T O C K H O L M C .

SWITZERLAND Europa Verlag. Rämlstrasse 5, Z Ü R I C H . Payot, 40, rue du Marché, G E N È V E .

TANGANYIKA Dar es Salaam Bookshop, P.O. Box 9030. D A R ES SALAAM.

THAILAND Suksapan Panit, Mansion 9, Rajdamnern Avenue, B A N G K O K .

T U R K E Y Librairie Hachette, 469, Istiklal Caddesi Beyoglu, ISTANBUL.

U N I T E D A R A B R E P U B L I C La Renaissance d'Egypte, 9 Sh. Adly-Pasha, C A I R O (Egypt).

UNITED K I N G D O M H . M . Stationery Office, P . O . Box 569, L O N D O N , S.E.l.

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Unesco Publications Center, 801 Third Avenue, N E W Y O R K 22, N . Y . ;

and except for periodicals: Columbia University Press, 2960 Broadway. N E W Y O R K 27. N . Y .

U R U G U A Y Unesco Centro de Cooperación Científica para America Latina, bulevar Artigas 1320-24, casula de correo 859, M O N T E V I D E O . Oficina de Representación de Editoriales, plaza Cagancha 1342, 1." piso. M O N T E V I D E O .

U S S R Mezhdunarodnaja Kniga. M O S K V A G-200.

V I E T - N A M Librairie-papeterie Xuân-Thu, 185-193. rue Tu-Do. B.P. 283. S A I G O N .

YUGOSLAVIA Jugoslovenska Knijga, Teraziie 27. BEOGRAD.

Unesco Book Coupons can be used to purchase all books and periodicals of an educational, scientific or cultural character. For full Information please write to: Unesco Coupon Office, place de Fontenoy, Paris-7", France.