From Assam Tribune, January 22, 2012

http://www.assamtribune.com/scripts/showpage.asp?id=jan2212,6,417,108,999,855


Lower Subansiri and the Politics of Expertise

Dr. Sanjib Baruah

The mobilization of a variety of highly credentialed experts to settle the 
controversy over the Lower Subansiri hydropower project reminds me of an 
American Doonesbury comic strip.  It features Stewie, a young researcher, who 
is frustrated with his calculator because it wouldn’t  produce the ‘right’ 
answer.  Stewie grumbles that he can’t get the ‘pesky scientific facts’ to 
‘line up behind [his] beliefs.’  Some of our decision-makers seem to be 
behaving like Stewie. They are looking for experts whose opinions can be 
interpreted as being in line with what officials consider to be the ‘right 
answer’ to the questions raised about the Lower Subansiri hydropower project. 

It is perhaps not a coincidence that a North American comic strip speaks to our 
present predicament in Assam.  The Doonesbury strip was a comment on former US 
president George W. Bush’s attitudes toward scientific truths vis-à-vis a 
number of issues including climate change and evolution. (Many of Bush’s 
Christian fundamentalist supporters are ‘creationists’ who  believe in the 
Bible’s story of creation and reject Darwin’s theory of evolution).  Thus an 
authority figure dressed in  a white lab coat, based on the real-life character 
of the science adviser at the Bush White House, appears in the scene. He 
advises the confused Stewie on “situational science” which he explains is 
“about respecting both sides of a scientific argument, not just the ones 
supported by facts.” The “situational science adviser” then lists a number of 
“controversies” where “situational science” could be useful, among them the 
“evolution controversy,”“the global-warming controversy” and the “pesticides 
controversy.”

In the comic strip cartoonist Garry Trudeau uses the term ‘controversy’ 
ironically with reference to subjects on which there are well-established 
scientific truths. However, we live in a world where knowledge controversies 
have become a familiar part of public debates in many parts of the world.  Such 
knowledge controversies are examples of what Dutch social theorist Annemarie 
Mol calls ontological politics. 

Controversies about the dangers of the “mad cow disease” or what scientists 
call Bovine Spongiform Encephalopathy (BSE) in the UK, and other recent panics 
about food safety in Europe, are examples of ontological politics.  What is 
common about these controversies is that significant sections of the public 
challenge the knowledge claims of scientists and technologists that inform 
government decisions and practices.   While a few years ago the authority of 
science and the reassurances provided by technocrats may have been enough to 
reassure the public about “acceptable risks,”  they now fail to convince those 
that are affected by policy decisions informed by expert knowledge.  The debate 
on the Lower Subansiri project is best seen as a knowledge controversy – an 
example of ontological politics. 

In these cases, the first-hand experience of citizens and the vernacular 
knowledge generated by that experience are in tension with what is regarded as 
authoritative science by decision-makers. They  fail to allay public concerns.  
German sociologist Ulrich Beck explains this as a characteristic feature of 
“risk society.”  Experts in the context of such knowledge controversies fail to 
convince the public that the risks involved in a new product or in an 
infrastructural project are “acceptable.”

At the root of the controversy over the Lower Subansiri project are two sets of 
tensions (a) between  first-hand experience and vernacular knowledge on the one 
hand, and expert knowledge that informs government decisions on the other; and 
(b) between expert knowledge produced by one group of well-credentialed experts 
familiar with the local context, and by a second group of equally 
well-credentialed experts based at institutions in the Indian heartland, but 
viewed locally as experts who have few stakes in the region.   

A number of factors account for these tensions.  

First, the people of the Brahmaputra valley have known floods in a way that 
very few other people in the world have.  Second, the experience  of the 
earthquake of 1950 and the catastrophic floods that followed are deeply etched 
in the collective memory of the people of the Brahmaputra Valley.  A research 
team studying flood adaptation in the Brahmaputra Valley found that even after 
six decades villagers affected by those  catastrophic floods remember them as 
‘Pahar Bhanga Pani’ [hill-destroying floodwaters] and ‘Bolia Pani’ [floodwaters 
driven by madness].  It is hardly surprising that hydropower plants in the 
mountains that surround the valley would evoke a raw sense of danger and 
foreboding in Assam. 

In the words of  an Assamese engineer who has had a long career building and 
managing hydropower plants in the region, experts from India’s premier water 
research institute IIT-Rourkee,  “have not seen the earthquake-induced 
landslides of 1950 . . . when  hundreds and thousands of trees floating 
downstream covered nearly the entire Brahmaputra river. They were not witness 
to that extraordinary spectacle. How can they say with certitude what a future 
disaster on the Subansiri might bring?”  

Third, the experience of devastating man-made floods, most likely caused by 
water released from recently built upstream hydropower plants like that on the 
Kurichhu river in Bhutan, a tributary of Assam’s Manas river, and on the 
Ranganadi river in Arunachal Pradesh have only added to this anxiety.  In the 
absence of transparent public inquires about these floods and reassurances that 
they won’t occur again, the people of Assam have few option but to take them as 
harbingers of a calamitous future. 

It is extremely unlikely that the authority of experts would at this point be 
able to bridge the trust gap that has developed regarding the Lower Subansiri 
project.  But we should be glad that we do not have an “unconstrained 
technocracy” like that in China where as the Economist magazine pointed out 
last year, “all but one of the nine members of the Politburo Standing Committee 
are engineers.”  Unconstrained technocracy, says the Economist has not been a 
guarantee of “good ideas or decisions” in cases such as the Three Gorges dam, 
the SARS epidemic or the high-speed rail network.
  
But democracies can find ways of engaging with ontological politics that 
autocracies cannot.  However, to find a way out of the impasse on Lower 
Subansiri the authorities will have to go beyond dogmatically asserting the 
authority of the elected government or of the law.  

Fortunately, in a democracy people who fear the potential adverse impact of a 
government decision has the ability to organize itself into a public.  The 
memories of devastating earthquakes, the lived experience of frequent floods, 
and the knowledge of scientists, technologists and intellectuals deeply engaged 
with the region, have constituted an extremely well-informed regional public 
around the issue of Lower Subansiri.  Indian democracy has to find a way of 
meaningfully engaging that public.

The writer is Professor of Political Studies at Bard College, New York.

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