The 39th flight of
the Indian Space Research Organisation’s (Isro) Polar Satellite Launch Vehicle
last week was justifiably lauded. The playing up of the record-breaking nature
of the flight—104 satellites is by some distance the most a single launch has
ever managed—echoes the bouts of self-congratulation that follow every major
Isro success, and there have been a fair few of those. Well and good; bragging
rights and the resultant positive public perception are valuable assets for any
space programme. But there is another issue worth examining: why Isro has
managed to deliver on a level that few other comparable government agencies
have.
Perhaps the most apt point of
comparison is the Defence Research and Development Organisation (DRDO). They
share a number of similarities. Both work in areas where technological and research
capital is paramount. Both deal with targets that require advanced application
of that capital. Both, importantly, work on projects that can take decades to
come to fruition, with all the uncertainty that it engenders—and indeed, given
the nature of the beast, may turn out to ultimately be unsuccessful. The DRDO’s
reputation has perhaps obscured some of its achievements, but the gulf in
outcomes between it and Isro—similarities notwithstanding—is nevertheless
clear. There are a few reasons for this.
The first is organizational
structure. In 1962, the department of atomic energy—which had been entrusted
with space research—set up the Indian National Committee for Space Research
(Incospar) with scientist Vikram Sarabhai as chairman. In 1969, the committee
was replaced by the newly founded Isro, again under Sarabhai, which took on the
responsibility of developing space technology and overseeing its application.
The final step in the evolution of India’s space programme was the constitution
of the department of space (DOS) and the Space Commission. Isro was brought
under DOS in 1972, with the commission formulating policy and seeing to its
implementation. The entire structure functioned directly under the prime
minister.
The absence of the otherwise
mandatory layers of bureaucracy present in any government body is the obvious
takeaway. The fact that specialists in the field and technocrats—starting with
Sarabhai himself—rather than mandarins have populated the upper echelons of the
hierarchy compounds this. For instance, Isro’s current chairman, A.S. Kiran
Kumar, is also chairman of the Space Commission and secretary of DOS. This
set-up has promoted vertical integration between policymakers—who are in a
position to understand the nature of the long-term projects Isro undertakes—and
those delivering the end results.
Contrast this with the DRDO,
which functions under the ministry of defence and is entrenched in the
bureaucratic culture. The fetishization of civilian supremacy over the military
has resulted in the heads of the Armed Forces not having a place at the table
when it comes to policy decisions—and the political and bureaucratic set-ups
have failed to articulate a long-term vision to understand the needs of the
Armed Forces. This means that the DRDO functions at a remove from the end users
of its technology, and with inadequate leadership at the ministry level.
The second reason is
international cooperation. Although there have been some impediments—Isro,
along with a number of other government agencies, was removed from the US’
entity list only in 2011, and a decade-old US policy that hampers the use of
Indian launch vehicles by American companies is still in effect—Isro has been
able to work with the international scientific community since inception. This
has been a throughline from the first component of the space programme, the
Thumba Equatorial Rocket Launching Station, established by Incospar, to the
agreement between Isro and the US’ National Aeronautics and Space
Administration to work on future joint missions to Mars.
The DRDO, on the other hand,
has faced far greater barriers here. This has partly to do with geopolitics and
international restrictions on sharing defence-related technology. Partly, it is
the Indian political leadership’s stress on entirely indigenous development in
past years. This has been counterproductive. As the then director general of
DRDO, V.K. Saraswat, said in 2011, “if anyone wants complete homegrown products
in critical areas, it is because of the lack of (understanding) of the dynamics
of the market and a lack of understanding of what is global competitiveness.”
A third difference is
accountability in the form of outcome budgets. This is too recent to judge its
impact on both agencies; outcome budgets were mandated in 2005-06. And given
the nature and risks of technological projects with long gestation periods,
strict financial accountability is not feasible. But some level of periodic
oversight is necessary—and while DOS submits an outcome budget that contains a
detailed breakdown of Isro projects, the ministry of defence, and thus DRDO,
are exempt. More likely than not, this will eventually result in further
divergence in the outcomes of both agencies.
Given the nature of Isro’s work
and its unique organizational structure, it’s not possible to employ all the
lessons learnt elsewhere. And there are unquantifiables such as institutional
culture in the mix as well. But there is no harm and potentially much good in
examining its success and the methods that can be successfully translated, such
as streamlining decision-making mechanisms and lateral entry at the
policymaking level for area experts. The political and bureaucratic will to
actually employ those methods elsewhere is, of course, another matter entirely.
Source;- The Economic Times
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