The Battle of the Mills

Prime Minister Nehru deplores the trend toward "giganticism" in modern industrial society, but when it comes to his own economy, he flatly says: "We must think in terms of large schemes." This week two of his large schemes made news as the first blast furnaces of two vast new steel mills were formally commissioned.

One mill, in Rourkela in the state of Orissa, is being built with the help of German capital and engineers. The other is the Soviet-designed Bhilai steel mill, rising, a month behind schedule, on what was once a wilderness on the sun-scorched plain of central India. To a large extent, the two mills--along with one more being built with British help and another with American, each of 1,000,000 ingot ton capacity--represent the chief hope of India's shaky economy. They are also playing a significant role in the complicated drama of the cold war.

The Most Talented. Since India produces only 1,800,000 tons of ingot steel a year, the government must use up huge chunks of its foreign reserves to import the steel the country needs. Hoping to quadruple production by 1961, India has brought in the services of four different nations to do it. At Durgapur in West Bengal, 400 British experts are supervising 29,000 Indians in building a mill that will begin operation next fall. Also in West Bengal, in Jamshedpur, the Pittsburgh of India, U.S. engineers of the Kaiser Engineers Division are just about finished with a new 1,000,000-ton addition to the Tata Iron & Steel Co., a private investment made possible by the World Bank's highest single industrial loan: $75 million. But it is Soviet-sponsored Bhilai that is getting the big play.

Even Moscow's basic offer--a loan of $130 million to be paid back over twelve years at a mere 2 1/2% interest--has worked to its advantage. In Indian eyes, this makes the Bhilai project a business deal rather than an embarrassing "gift" (since 1947 the U.S. has showered a whopping $1.75 billion on India in gifts, loans and credits). Furthermore, at cost to its own steel industry, the Soviet Union has been sending India its top talent. "They have to be our best men," said one Russian. "You can say it is a matter of face. But we want this plant to work."

The Most Humble. If anything goes wrong, the engineers at Bhilai are in touch with the Kremlin by special radio within the hour. The Communists have guaranteed all the equipment they have sent, and they have trained 370 Indians in Russian mills. Soviet experts are under strict orders to let trainees handle as much machinery and press as many buttons as they wish. This does wonders for the confidence of young engineers, who say that in German factories they are treated like sightseers.

Though the 854 Russian technicians have brought along their families to India, they employ no servants. They ride in buses instead of private cars or Jeeps. The Russians work 16 hours a day, are careful never to mention politics. But the most effective Soviet ploy of all has been their insistence that every Russian of top rank must have his Indian counterpart. "Here," says one enthusiastic Indian at Bhilai, "we work shoulder to shoulder with the Russians. Elsewhere, we work under the foreigners."

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