Science Laboratories and Cargo Ships: What connects them?

Recently, I came across a podcast video on YouTube. It stood out from the multitude of other videos because, rather than dwelling on politics, it focused on explaining the nation's economics. Although it was quite lengthy, I felt compelled to watch it in its entirety, largely because the information presented is generally unknown to the public. The average person often lacks the means to access or comprehend such matters, and our current educational system typically fails to cultivate the necessary aptitude for doing so.

The video offered a concise overview of this entire journey: the resources required by the nation, the extent of their importation, the foreign currency expenditure incurred in the process, and—conversely—the volume of goods we export. It highlighted our way of life, which is predicated upon this constant exchange—a dynamic that represents, in a sense, both a form of interdependence and a source of global significance. Humanity—which proudly proclaims the ethos of Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam (The World is One Family)—often fails to grasp, even in the slightest, just how vital and inextricably woven into our daily existence is the mutual dependency that transcends geographical and political boundaries. It is from this very interdependence that the intricate calculus of imports and exports emerges, giving rise to the practical concept we know as "currency."

Consider, for instance, a village in ancient times—specifically, one that has absolutely no trade relations with the outside world. In such a village, the Bara Balutedar (the traditional community of artisans and service providers) rely entirely upon one another for their sustenance. This dynamic is, paradoxically, both simple and complex. It becomes imperative for them to establish and maintain mutually beneficial relationships in order to access the resources and services possessed by others within the community. (The emergence of capitalism from this dynamic is a subject best reserved for a future discussion.)

Leaving aside the perspective of the average citizen, this economic reality exerts such a profound influence—indeed, an active intervention—within our scientific sphere that many mortals who style themselves as "scientists" remain utterly oblivious to it, as well as to the inherent responsibilities that stem from it. They operate under the assumption that they can simply continue their reading, writing, and experimentation in isolation, asking themselves: "What relevance does this 'external' and seemingly trivial world have to us?"

If any single force provided the true impetus behind the industrial surge of the 20th century, it was undoubtedly Science—and the Technology that emerged from it. We witness the consequences of this everywhere today. Electricity, automobiles, the Green Revolution in agriculture, advancements in medical science, computers, mobile phones, the internet, and AI—one could cite countless examples of how science has made our lives more comfortable today. You might ask: what does this have to do with economics?

Well, there is a very intimate connection. These are products created by technology, and the production of all these items requires various types of resources as well as services. For many of these things—whether it be raw materials or the specific elements required for them—we lack domestic availability. This applies whether the element in question is gold, silicon, or lithium. About twenty years ago, when I took my first tentative steps toward becoming a researcher in the field of materials science, terms like "energy" and "sustainability" suddenly began to catch my ear. People had started seeking alternative technologies to replace advanced existing ones, and in doing so, they were selecting elements that occur abundantly in nature. I couldn't quite grasp the specific rationale behind this; it seemed to me as if they were trying to fit a bullock-cart wheel onto a smoothly running Mercedes. Things were working perfectly well with silicon and lithium in the electronics sector, and with lead in fields such as nuclear energy—so why replace them with other, inferior elements?

However, underlying this was a complex interplay of economics, geology, and capitalism. Science, too, had its own vested interest: the hope of discovering something novel—something previously unknown to humanity—and perhaps even achieving superior quality or efficiency. Yet, from an economic perspective, those scientific aspirations likely held less significance. From the standpoint of economics, the primary objective—both then and now—was to reduce dependence on foreign sources, rather than merely prioritizing technical excellence. It took me several years to fully grasp this reality.
Scientists working in the energy sector are typically well-acquainted with economic statistics. One must always be prepared with answers regarding metrics such as watt-hours per kilogram, cost per dollar, or cost in rupees; regarding the relative rarity of various naturally occurring geological elements; and regarding which substances pose a threat to the environment.

But is this approach actually yielding the desired results? Should we continue to practice and teach science in the exact same manner we currently do? Can our indigenous technology and scientific knowledge offer us any assistance in navigating these complex challenges? Scientists and educational experts ought to reflect deeply on these questions—and, most certainly, the upcoming generation must do so as well. When nurturing the researchers of tomorrow, integrating economics and sociology with science is no longer merely an optional choice; it has become the imperative of the hour. And this integration must begin right at the level of school education.

-Dr. Vinayak Kamble