When Mangalyaan successfully entered the Martian orbit in late September after a 10-month journey, India erupted in joy. Costing more than an F-16 but less than a Rafale, Mangalyaan’s meticulous execution established India as a space-faring country.
Pakistanis may well ask: can we do it too? Seen in the proper spirit, India’s foray into the solar system could be Pakistan’s sputnik moment. Let’s see how India did it: First, space travel is all about science and India’s young ones are a huge reservoir of enthusiasm for science. They see more prestige in science than becoming managers or Army officers. Although most eventually settle for conventional professions, this eagerness leads India’s best students towards science.
Ten years ago, I had personally experienced this youthful enthusiasm during a four-week lecture tour across seven Indian cities. Hundreds turned up for my talks on scientific subjects. Every city had at least one science museum, and sometimes two or three.
Second, Indian universities have created the necessary backbone for advanced scientific projects. University quality goes from moderately bad to very good, with the median lying around fair. Many mediocre ones produce rotten science PhDs prodigiously suffocating growth. On the positive side, research in theoretical sciences carried out in India’s very best universities — as well as institutes like TIFR and IMSC — compares favourably with that of world’s top universities. Rigorous entry standards for students, and a careful selection of faculty, have been important ingredients for this relative success. Examina-tions for admissions into Indian Institutes of Technology would make the best students anywhere in the world sweat.
Third, India values its top scientists. There is scarcely an Indian I’ve met who doesn’t know the story of Srinivasa Ramanujan, the prodigy from Madras who astonished the world of mathematics but tragically died at the age of 32. India is dotted with institutes bearing names like S.N. Bose, C.V. Raman, M. Saha, and Homi Bhabha.
Back to space: a developing country looking at faraway Mars can take either the Arab way or the Chinese-Indian way. The first needs a ticket. Petrodollars paid for Prince Salman ibn Saud, the first Arab in space, and put him aloft an American space shuttle in 1985. Recently the UAE announced plans for a Mars mission. Just as cash and foreign experts built Dubai they will also put sheikhs on planets. But how can we cash-strapped Pakistanis get to our bit of the solar system? The process will be slow, but here is how to do it.
First, create enthusiasm in our young people for science. Space exploration is only a part of the larger whole. Instead of TV channels saturated with political “experts”, have good educational programmes. Standards of English in Pakistan must improve. Sadly, the world of science is closed to those who can understand only Urdu.
Second, we must re-educate ourselves to know the difference between science and “cargo science”. This phrase, borrowed from anthropology, was introduced by physicist Richard Feynman during his 1974 commencement address at the California Institute of Technology. Feynman said: “In the South Seas there is a cargo cult among people. During WW II they saw planes land with lots of good materials, and they want it now. So they’ve arranged to imitate things like runways, to put fires along the sides of the runways, to make a wooden hut for a man to sit in, with two wooden pieces on his head like headphones and bars of bamboo sticking out like antennas and they wait for the planes to land. They’re doing everything right. But it doesn’t work. So I call these things cargo cult science, because they follow all the apparent precepts of scientific investigation, but they’re missing something essential.”
We must stop teaching a kind of science in Pakistani schools which is science only in name. Our universities need reform. Desperate to show evidence of improvement, government organisations like the Higher Education Commission and Pakistan Council for Science and Technology have institutionalised a reward system that has led to armies of cargo PhDs as well as mountains of cargo publications. Serious de-weeding is needed or else fakes will crowd out genuine scientists around.
Third, and last, individual scientific achievement must be recognised while narrow prejudices, both religious and ethnic, must be firmly rejected. India has had many, but Pakistan has had only one great scientist, Abdus Salam. His marginalisation must be reversed. This will be a signal that the country is ready for the future.
The author teaches physics in Lahore and Islamabad
By arrangement with Dawn
