The Patenting of Life

By Jovan Ilic

Patents were first issued by 6th century European Monarchs for the discovery and conquest of foreign lands on their behalf. When Christopher Columbus set sail on his voyage of discovery, he carried a charter granting him the potential right to own India. Of course he landed in the Americas by mistake but it’s indigenous people were nonetheless colonised and have been called Indians ever since. During the last twenty years patenting of Intellectual Property Rights (IPRs) has been central to the continuously aggressive and expansionist foreign policies of successive US governments. Vandana Shiva argues in Patents: myths & reality that it is no more and no less than a repeat of the robbery seen during the colonial days of Columbus and others.

She very briefly presents the case of the US patents lobby as follows: patents are necessary for growth and high standards of living in free markets which are realised through technology generation. IPRs help stimulate investment and technology transfer from North to South, and allow inventors to recoup research and development costs. She then critiques this argument, initially by quoting a survey carried out in the US in 1984, which claimed that over 80% of the companies contacted indicated that ‘blocking technical areas’ with no intention of working the invention was a prime motive for patenting. It would appear that IPRs are used to regulate competition rather than stimulate technology generation. Unfortunately she doesn’t provide the reference for this survey so we are unable to analyse its parameters, in particular the scale and scope of the companies contacted.

What with the all too brief presentation of her ‘opponents’ case and this unsubstantiated study, we can begin to see how this book regrettably is taken up with too much ‘preaching to the converted.’ Though the US patents lobby do not in truth have much of a case beyond economic totalitarianism, Vandana Shiva does however, have a responsibility as a respected author and world-renowned environmental leader and activist, to present the other side of the argument as strongly as is possible. There is some debate here, but it mainly reads like a barrage of impending doom. But let us look at some of the myths and realities of patents, and the two main arguments that are presented against their current usage. The first deconstructs ‘originality,’ and the second presents knowledge as a communal and not individual enterprise.

In the US state of Pennsylvania on 28 March 1787, John Fitch was granted a patent, which gave him the sole and exclusive right and privilege of constructing and using all kinds of boats in all the waterways of Pennsylvania for fourteen years. Vandana Shiva debunks the myth that patents refer to ‘originality’ in the strictest sense, by for example, stating that as the steam engine was invented and patented by James Watt in Scotland in 1772, the US patent of 1787 quite clearly does not apply to ‘originality’. Rather it is used as meaning the introduction of new ideas to the ‘area’ covered by the licence. This patent solely rewards John Fitch of Pennsylvania, and not James Watt. It does so strictly through the market, where knowledge is seen as capital. Capital, which in this case rewards its ‘Pennsylvania’ owner with exclusive market control for fourteen years. The second argument is that knowledge is a collective, cumulative enterprise based on exchange. In this way Vandana Shiva can rightly argue for the acknowledgement of knowledge systems of diverse cultures which the Pennsylvania and Columbus patents for example do not do. As patents are granted for private property we have a direct conflict when knowledge is viewed as a collective endeavour. The western patents lobby argue that people are creative only if they can make profits (and presently, if those profits are guaranteed through IPR protection). This however, negates the scientific creativity of the majority of scientists in universities and public research systems, in addition to that of traditional societies where free exchange of ideas is the very condition for creativity, not its anti-thesis. This is the strongest claim of Shiva’s argument. Patenting has less to do with promoting creative thinking and ‘originality’ and more to do with market control, as can be witnessed in the progressive sponsoring of academic research throughout the US.

It would have been very useful for there to have been an analysis of the cultural differences that these arguments bring to light; namely the dichotomy of the increasingly atomised nucleated urban north, and the collective extended rural south. She also makes no mention of Public Private Sector partnerships (PPPs) such as Medicines for Malaria Venture (MMV), the Global Alliance for TB Drug Development (GATB), and International AIDS Vaccine Initiative (IAVI). Finally, what is not well explained is the historical switch from granting patents for introducing an idea into the area of the licensing agent, e.g. Pennsylvania, to issuing exclusive international patents. This came about with the introduction of TRIPs (Trade Related Aspects of Intellectual Property - that mandate minimum international 20-year patents) in 1995. By leaving this section to the end, the book almost reads from back to front.

However the thrust of the book is impossible to ignore. It stands that the US enforced TRIPs legally protect those who effectively steal knowledge, in particular, in the areas of medicinal plants and farmers’ seeds from the south. This highlights, (and it refers to the earlier point regarding the US report), that patenting is driven by a very small and succinct group of capitalists from within the US. Agrochemical and pharmaceutical companies are whom we are talking about here, and they are all good friends of one George Bush. Sorry, make that two. That the US Department of Agriculture works closely with these transnational corporations, such as Monsanto, should not then come as a surprise to anyone.

Desiccation

By Manjushree Thapa

For many years I faithfully bought the annual anthologies of Katha Prize Stories, feeling like I must benefit from any chance to read fiction from the Indian languages. I would jump into translations of stories originally written in Asomiya, Bangla, Gujarati, Hindi, Kannada, Konkani, Maithili, Malayalam, Marathi, Punjabi, Rajasthani, Tamil, Telugu or Urdu. Invariably, I would put down the anthology, feeling lost. Leaping from intensely rooted story to intensely rooted story—without the benefit of introductions to them, their authors, or the literature of their original languages—I felt like I was being taxed too hard, or that I was stupid. I lacked knowledge of the stories’ social contexts to appreciate them, perhaps. I lacked the requisite imaginative stamina to read such a vast variety of plots, subject matters and narrative styles. For whatever reason, I never enjoyed reading the Katha anthologies; I always felt like I was performing a duty by picking them up.

It was thus with a grim sense of obligation that I bought Water, a Katha novella written by Tamil writer Ashokamitran. Luckily, the translator Lakshmi Holstrom has written an introduction, helping to orient readers like me. Ashokamitran is one of a group of Tamil writers who came to renown in the 1960’s, writes Holstrom. He tends to focus on urban areas in his writing, in particular on Chennai, Secunderbad and Hyderabad. Water, called Tannir in Tamil, began in serialized form, and was published as a book in 1973. It is set during the 1969 drought in Chennai.

The novella begins with the protagonist Jamuna lying in bed listening to the grind of a water pump, waiting for a change in the sound so that she can rush out to gather water. This is something that Kathmandu dwellers can immediately identify with in these desiccated times. The entire neighborhood is engulfed by the grind of water pumps, all with their distinct sounds. From these sounds, people can tell whether water is about to emerge at last. From these sounds, people can tell if water that was about to emerge has decided not to come up after all. When water does gush out from a pump, ‘in a sudden explosion,’ women swarm around in a frenzy, jostling to fill their pots.

From this evocative start, the story moves on to introduce Jamuna’s sister Chaya, and to show the interaction between the sisters, colored by reproaches and judgements. Jamuna is the older of the two. She is more domestic in orientation; she gathers water, cleans the apartment and cooks meals. Chaya works in an office, and she has a harsh, uncompromising edge; she thinks nothing of offering blunt advice to her sister, or of ordering her sister around. Chaya is married, but her army-man husband is posted elsewhere, and her son stays with his grandmother. Jamuna is involved in an affair with a married man, Bhaskar Rao, who is in the cinema industry, and has promised to star her in his productions. Chaya’s disapproval of Jamuna’s life is apparent, as is Jamuna’s emotional dependence on her sister, and her desire to win her love and acceptance.

The novella shifts, very skillfully, from the story of the sisters to the story of the larger community around them. Everyone is busy rushing from tap to tap in search of water, and forming long queues when water is found. The author depicts, with brilliance, the neurotic fixation that people have on pumps and taps. Just as brilliantly, he shows the government’s efforts to alleviate the water crisis—sending in occasional water lorries, sinking tubewells that tap into sewerage pipes, and digging trenches to replace the water mains, but destroying electrical cables instead, leaving the community without lights.

Through all this, people still take an interest in the lives of those around them; and so the landlady, the Teacher amma, and the neighbors all know the sisters, and notice the visits by Bhaskar Rao, the increasing tension between the sisters, and Chaya’s sudden move out of the apartment. She is waiting for her husband to get transferred to Madras so that they and their son can live together as a family.

After Chaya’s departure, Jamuna is befriended by Teacher amma, who comes off, at first, as a reassuring figure, an older woman capable of dispensing sound, worldly advice. Yet the author subverts this stereotype; Jamuna quickly finds out that Teacher amma is a much abused daughter-in-law who struggles to support a terminally ill husband. Their friendship is shaped by their alternating weaknesses and strengths.

The two sisters eventually reconcile, and Chaya moves back in with Jamuna. Their reconciliation comes not as a happy ending, but as a response to other disappointments. Chaya’s husband does not get transferred to Madras; and so she cannot live with him, and take back her son. And Jamuna recognizes that it is unlikely that she will ever star in any of Bhaskar Rao’s cinemas. Just as the sisters must ration their day’s supply of water, they must ration their happiness; they must be wise about how to spend the stock that they have. The sisters are shown, at the end, laughing as Bhaskar Rao’s car gets stuck in the open trenches that government workers have left unmarked.

Water is a lyrical novella, and the best kind of literary translation: it gives readers a chance to enter the imaginative world of another language while also enjoying themselves. It also lets readers re-discover the novella form, which is common in regional language literature, but unusual in English. This book is so refreshing, it almost tempts me to re-read my collection of Katha Prize Stories anthologies. Almost.

Resource Management Plan for Tibetan Villages

By Jagannath Adhikari

Managing a dry Shangri-la is about community based natural resource management plan for the villages of Dingjie County of the Tibetan Autonomous Region of China, which is characterized by arid agro-pastoral economy. It seems that the plan has been made for implementation by township government agencies, local government agencies and externally funded projects like Qomolangma National Nature Preserve and Trace Foundation.

A consultant from a Nepali NGO had conducted the study on which this book is based. It may be because of this fact that strategies developed for the selected villages in Tibet also seem to be informed by the Nepali experience in natural resources management at the local level. The concepts of users group in the management of forestry and water resources have been emphasized by taking examples from Nepal. Similarly, development of micro-hydro power for electricity and irrigation and commercial exploitation of herbs and non-timber forest products have been informed by the Nepali experience.

The book first discusses the situation with regard to natural resources and development problems in five of the ten townships of the Dingjie County. Information on general demographic situation, infrastructures, land holding and land use, agricultural system, non-agricultural activities, socio-economic institutions, forest resources and management, local development concerns, fodder and pasture, water resources, tourism potentials, animal husbandry, herbs and other non-timber forest products, soil and water conservation problems, alternative energy sources, environmental problems and the like are discussed for each township separately. Then at the end of the book, recommendations for action, categorized as short-term, medium term and long-term, are outlined.

Given the fact that fieldwork for this study was undertaken in only 45 days, considerable information seemed to have been collected within this short time. The author has utilized participatory and rapid information collection methods to gather vital information, and has also used his experience of his previous visit to Tibet. Despite that, it seems that this book is a run-out-of-the-mill consultancy product. The book is still in the form of a field report.

I felt that one of the main shortcomings of the book was that it is not guided by any vision of changes in the society. Without this vision, it is difficult to focus or prioritize the areas in which changes are necessary. It also makes it difficult to decide the appropriate interventions mechanism. For example, it does not indicate the aim/objectives of suggesting various recomamendations. Similarly, from the outset the basic objectives of people in the management of their local resources is not made clear.

The book is furthermore completely devoid of discussions on historical developments in the village society. What are the historical realities of the villages in relation to their livelihood security? Whether there are constraints in the implementation of development works based on historical realities are not discussed. Other pertinent questions that came to my mind while reading the book, but for which answers were not available were: Are villagers better off now than before in terms of quality of life, sustainable resource management and livelihood opportunities? What are the persistent and emerging problems? What has been the new adoption strategy of the people in the face of various internal and external changes in recent times? Perhaps answers to these questions are important before any intervention mechanisms are suggested.

The book makes a simple and linear discussion of the present situation within the villages studied. No reference has been made on the impact of external factors in village society and its implication in the management of local resources. It appears as if the villages or the area for which intervention strategies have been designed exist in isolation with no external linkages. Clearly China’s policy of welcoming the market economy and its integration with the world economy has led to many changes even in rural areas. Dependencies or interdependencies of villages on towns, or market centers, for various products and services might have grown in recent times and, at the same time, it might have affected the livelihood patterns of the people. But these factors are not discussed in a significant way by this book.

This book also does not explain why certain areas were selected for the study and how can we generalize the findings for the whole county. How representative are the villages studied? The answer to this question cannot be found in the book.

The discussion on socio-economic and political dimensions of the county for which intervention mechanisms are devised is very sketchy. Similarly, findings (information) of the individual village studies are not collated together and compared which would have been useful to enhance our understanding of the homogeneities and diversities in these villages. Furthermore, socio-economic differences within villages are not discussed in a substantial way. Unless we understand these realities, a generalized recommendation may not be suitable.

Even though the book is about community based natural resource management, it does not make significant attempts to study local and externally imposed institutions and the access of local people to these institutions. There is almost no discussion on the structure and cultural patterns of the village societies.

One can argue that reports/books related to development interventions should be short, simple and direct, utilizing only vitally needed data and information. This book/report fully meets these criteria. But the societies in which interventions are made are complex. Even though donor agencies prefer short and simple reports, they may not be enough to increase our understanding of the complexities of societies. Perhaps it is one of the reasons that most development plans have failed to make significant and positive impacts on the targeted communities.

The Death of Vishnu

By Sushma Joshi

A man lies dying on the stairwell of a crumbling tenement house in Bombay. The twisted plot
of The Death of Vishnu, mathematics professor Manil Suri’s creation, originates out of that, spiraling like a stairway into social realism and the myths of Bollywood. Drawing from the non-linear genre of Bombay film scripts, and the hyper-linked, multi-plot structure of Hindu mythology, the story works its way slowly but inevitably into the unforgiving politics of religious violence and communalism that dominates the politics of contemporary India.

While Vishnu lies delirious, in the throes of his last sexual fantasies before death, two Hindu neighbors play out their day to day rivalries and petty jealousies on his dying body, quarreling over who should pay for the ambulance. This middle class struggle is just another in a long tradition of jealousies and fights in their shared kitchen. Their husbands, meanwhile, ineffectually try to organize themselves into an alternate power bloc. A third neighbor, a religious Muslim woman, watches her husband helplessly while he turns into a celibate ascetic. The fourth, a Parsi widower, cannot forget his dead wife as he watches his life spin around and around like the record from an old movie. In the middle of all this, two teenagers play out their inter-religious romance, benignly unaware of the consequences. All these lives are tied together by the thread of two common denominators - Vishnu and Ganga, the domestics, who become privy to their most mundane habits. All four families, coming from different religious backgrounds and co-existing as neighbors, are ultimately brought together to a point where their private conflicts merges with the public violence of communal politics, forcing them to encounter their most entrenched prejudices.

The story is made up of exquisite little snapshots, in surreal Technicolor. Like the films of the Bombay film industry, the vignettes can seem vicarious and unrelated, but one realizes at the end that they are all part of the bigger scheme of things. Some of the writing is too processed, too colorful, like the orange American Kraft cheese that Mrs. Jalal serves to her guests to impress them, and yet it serves its function.

This is no neat math problem with an easy answer. Like the complexities of urban India, the story operates on many levels. The death of Vishnu becomes a metaphor for the death of other institutions - the death of religious harmony, the death of civic responsibility, the death of middle class co-existence in the age of globalization. With the death of Vishnu, named after the preserver in the Hindu trinity, life plunges straight into the chaos of destruction.

The riots against Muslims, the demolition of the Babri Masjid in Ayodhya and the increasing spread of a religious nationalist agenda from the Hindu Right has been a sobering reminder of how the ideal of a secular state has come under attack in contemporary India. The chilling finality of the ending, closing the book with a proof that is almost mathematical in its inevitability, remind us that the contemporary politics of Bombay, with its increasingly divisive ethnic and religious agenda, can insert itself very quickly and with devastating consequences from the public to the private domain. Vishnu, the god of preservation and love, can only die quietly on the stairwell when this happens.