Meanwhile, at home in Britain matters were stirring in the area of science policy, and government relations with science and industry. In 1959 the office of Minister for Science had been created, and the duties of the Minister described in the following terms:
The Minister for Science is responsible to Parliament for the Council of Scientific and Industrial Research, the Medical Research Council, the Agricultural Research Council and the Nature Conservancy and is Chairman of the five Privy Council Committees to which they report... The Minister for Science will also exercise Ministerial functions under the Atomic Energy Acts and will exercise supervision of the programme of space research... Other Ministers remain responsible for the scientific establishments within their own Departments; but the Minister for Science is responsible for broad questions of scientific policy outside the sphere of defence and is advised by the Advisory Council on Scientific Policy on general questions which relate to the whole field of civil science.
Since the adoption of the Haldane Report at the time of the First World War, responsibility for scientific research had been with the Research Councils and the Department of Scientific and Industrial Research. These bodies, together with the Nature Conservancy, were directly controlled by Privy Council Committees. The Lord President of the Council was, therefore, in effect a Minister for Science, and this was recognised in the reference to his 'responsibilities for the formulation and execution of Government scientific policy' in the terms of reference of the Advisory Council on Scientific Policy, to which I have earlier referred. Taken at its face value, the statement about the appointment of a Minister for Science might have seemed to complicate the problems of science policy, but it did not in practice do so. Lord Hailsham, the then Lord President of the Council, simply assumed the additional title of Minister for Science. Although there appeared thus to be no change in the situation, the additional title had the merit of emphasising the importance of science as a factor in government.
By 1962, however, the feeling was widespread, that Britain was not keeping pace with technological innovation in industry, perhaps because of the very minor role we were playing in space exploration which was the glamour subject in those days. As a result, the government set up a Committee of Enquiry into the Organisation of Civil Science under the chairmanship of Sir Burke Trend, Secretary to the Cabinet. This Committee, of which I was a member, reported in 1963. It clarified, and strengthened, the position of the Minister for Science, separating the Research Councils from the Lord President's jurisdiction, and calling for the establishment, in parallel with them, of an Industrial Research and Development Authority, to promote applied research and industrial innovation. Whether the proposals of the Trend Report were wise or not we will never know, for they were overtaken by political events, and were never implemented. In 1963, Government amalgamated responsibility for science and education (including higher education) in a single Department of Education and Science headed by a Secretary of State and with two Ministers of State, one of whom was responsible for science. This in itself was, to my mind, a retrograde step, but it was made much worse when, upon the assumption of power in 1964 by a Labour government with its naive talk of a 'white-hot technological revolution', the whole set-up was again altered. Science and technology were separated, the former remaining with the Department of Education and Science, and the latter transferred to a new Ministry of Technology with its own Advisory Council. The Advisory Council on Scientific Policy was abolished, and a new, and virtually powerless, body called the Council for Scientific Policy was established. The Council for Scientific Policy was dissolved some years later, and its only real function - to advise upon the apportionment of the science vote among the Research Councils - was transferred to a new body, the Advisory Board for the Research Councils (A.B.R.C). The Ministry of Technology itself had only a short life, and was soon dissolved, its functions being distributed among several other Departments. The adverse effect of these changes was in a measure offset by the appointment of a Chief Scientific Adviser in the Cabinet Office. The post of Chief Scientific Adviser in which Sir Solly (now Lord) Zuckerman was succeeded by Sir Alan Cottrell, lasted for about ten years, being finally abolished in 1974. The changes made by the Labour government in the mid-sixties were, in my view, a disaster for science in its relation with government, from which we are still trying to recover. The provision of first-class scientific and technological advice - for the two cannot be separated - is essential for the formulation of government policy in an ever-increasing number of national and international issues. In Britain, we began with a highly centralised system for its provision, in the shape of the Advisory Council on Scientific Policy. That Council did not, perhaps, achieve all that had been hoped for, primarily because it lacked the 'back-up' of a good secretariat, and did not always have access to all the information it needed. In my view, however, the decentralisation, and indeed fragmentation, which has followed on the demise of A.C.S.P. has not been successful and a return to something nearer to the old system is badly needed.
The year 1962 was largely given over to chemistry and affairs in Britain, but it also brought an entirely unexpected personal honour in the shape of a Life Peerage, which I accepted. The acceptance was not without its lighter side, for before the barony could be gazetted I had to report at the College of Arms and decide on my title. Since I was well known up and down the world by my family name, and had published all my scientific work under it, I was determined that my title should be simply Todd. Life Peerages were still a novelty in those days, and the College of Arms had not yet got accustomed to people using their own names rather than adopting a territorial designation. The Garter King was clearly anxious to revive Trumpington, which had not been used in a title since the time of the Crusades, and which would be appropriate, since I lived in Trumpington parish; after a struggle I prevailed, and became the Baron Todd of Trumpington in the County of Cambridge. The next problem was my coat of arms; I wanted to use, essentially, the unregistered shield (a chevron with three fox heads) and motto (Faire sans dire) used by the Todd family at one time in Scotland. Subject to one modification - the substitution of a 'serpent embowed biting its tail' for one fox head - this was accepted by the Clarenceux King of Arms and registered. The Clarenceux King was anxious to include some symbol for my hobby, but I explained that I had no outstanding hobby which I would wish to include.' Ah,' he said, 'you are probably one of those men whose hobby is work. Odd, isn't it? I doubt if I have ever done a proper day's work in my life.' The various formalities being over, I was formally introduced into the House of Lords in the summer of 1962 by two old scientific friends, Lord Adrian and Lord Fleck, and took my place on the cross-benches as an independent, bearing no party allegiance. Since I entered the House, there has been a marked growth in the number of Life Peers - and with it a growth in the number of cross-benchers such that they are now a significant force in the work of the House. In recent years there has been much discussion about the future of the House of Lords. No doubt some reform is necessary, but I am against abolition. I believe that in a parliamentary democracy a second chamber is necessary; the second chamber should have a largely advisory function, and should exert its influence on the lower house through the special qualifications and experience of its members. To do so I believe it should not be an elected body, but rather a body of experts, and not one conducted on party political lines. It seems to me that, however archaic the titles and trappings may seem, a properly operated Life Peerage system provides as good a way as any to achieve this; the hereditary system is indefensible, and should be allowed to lapse.
In the late fifties and early sixties, I had a number of discussions with Dr Albert Wettstein and some other members of the Board of Directors of Ciba Ltd, the Swiss chemical firm, about the promotion of postgraduate student exchanges between Europe and the United Kingdom, to offset the ever growing drift of young scientists from both to the United States for postdoctoral experience; this led to the setting up of the Cib
a Fellowship Trust, which successfully developed this idea, and whose action in this respect has been widely copied. Another topic we discussed, which was promoted largely by Wettstein, and put into operation by the Ciba Board, was to tap the undoubted research potential among young Indian chemists, by setting up a research institute under the wing of their Indian subsidiary in Bombay, but with a great deal of freedom as regards research programmes in the pharmaceutical field. By early 1963 the building of the institute at Goregaon near Bombay was complete, Professor Govindachari, an old friend from Madras installed as Director, and all was ready for an official opening by Prime Minister Nehru. This was set for March 1963 and as part of the occasion a special meeting was arranged in Bombay where lectures were to be given by six invited speakers - Vlado Prelog and Alexander von Muralt from Switzerland, Sir George Pickering and myself from the United Kingdom, R. B. Woodward from the United States, and Professor Venkataraman, Director of the National Chemical Laboratory at Poona.
My wife and I decided, with the Woodwards, that the opportunity for a few extra days' holiday should not be missed, so all four travelled to Egypt, spent a few days in Cairo, and visited Luxor and the tombs in the Valley of the Kings, before meeting Prelog at Cairo airport and flying on to Bombay, where we were royally entertained by the Ciba company. After the opening ceremony at Goregaon, Alison and I, with Bob Woodward and Vlado Prelog, went up to Poona at Venkataraman's invitation to see the National Chemical Laboratory, of which he was rightly proud, and spend the night with him and his wife in their official residence. The visit was quite hilarious, largely because something went badly wrong at the Poona power station so that all electricity supply failed at frequent intervals. This made Vlado's lecture an uproarious event, the place being plunged in darkness several times while he was speaking. I remember, too, retiring to Bob's quarters for a quiet drink at the end of the evening party, only to have the lights fail after a few minutes. Venkataraman, like the good host he was, was rushing around the guest rooms with candles. What he thought on finding us sitting peacefully having a nightcap in total darkness I don't know, but, in the flickering light of the candle he was carrying, he certainly looked rather surprised! We returned safely to Bombay, and wound up the ceremonies there with a big party at a restaurant on the coast a few miles north of Bombay. The highlight was a display of South Indian dancing by Govindachari's daughter Anurada; although only eleven years of age, she was already well known in the world of the dance but remained a rather shy, unspoilt little girl. It was on this occasion, incidentally, that I accepted an invitation from Dr. Kappeli (chairman of Ciba Ltd) to become a Trustee of the Ciba Foundation. From Bombay, the entire party then went off on a beautifully arranged tour to Jaipur, Udaipur, Delhi, Agra and Fatehpur Sikri before returning home.
During that same year I made two visits to the United States - firstly to Harvard for Commencement, where I received an honorary degree, and had the interesting experience of visiting a small Liberal Arts College (Colby College in Maine) to see Bob Woodward receive a degree there. Colby was a curious, rather gentlemanly place, evidently patronised by people well provided with the world's goods. I believe there are many such colleges with good academic standards in the United States, although I have only seen one other like it, namely, Widener College, near Philadelphia, where I received a degree much later, in 1976. I have not seen any equivalent institutions in other countries I have visited. My second visit was in October, to attend the celebrations in Washington to mark the Centenary of the National Academy of Sciences, of which I had been a Foreign Associate for a number of years. The Washington celebrations gave me the opportunity to meet, if rather briefly, the young President of the United States, J. F. Kennedy, who was well known to several of my American friends; I found him most impressive, and very different from most of the American politicians I had met. Following the National Academy meeting, I went on to Yale where I delivered, rather belatedly, the Silliman Lectures I had been invited to give some time before. I was well looked after by Joe Fruton, Professor of Biochemistry at Yale, who had doubtless been responsible for my being made a Silliman Lecturer. I ought, however, to feel rather ashamed because, although I delivered the lectures (on nucleic acid chemistry) I never got around to writing them up for publication in book form; I fear I have always avoided tasks like that!
Meanwhile, I had taken on a new job. In January 1963 I was approached by the Vice-Master of Christ's College, who told me that it was the unanimous wish of the Fellows that I be invited to accept the Mastership, which would be vacant in mid-July when the then Master, Professor B. W. Downs, would retire at the statutory age of seventy. At various times before then I had been approached to take vice-chancellorships of various universities and headships of colleges, but had uniformly refused. Now, however, things seemed rather different. For one thing, it was my own college and I knew it and its ways so well that it would not be a great strain to take it over. Again, I had now achieved much of what I could expect to achieve in research, and felt I should now concentrate more on providing the opportunities for younger colleagues to realise their potential. Finally, the Master's Lodge was a fine old house - possibly a bit large, but nevertheless most attractive as a place in which to live. So I accepted; I assumed office on 11 July 1963, but, as fairly extensive modifications had to be done to the Lodge, we did not actually move into it until April 1964. I have always believed that the real reason for this long delay was that the builders' men were keen to keep a nice inside job like this going until the end of winter, remembering the savage cold of the preceding year. I thoroughly enjoyed my fifteen years as Master of Christ's; living with successive generations of undergraduates in college is a most rewarding experience, and leads to the formation of many friendships. I was also very lucky in the key appointments I made. Within a year of my appointment, the college Bursar left to take up a Professorship at the London School of Economics. He, like most college Bursars in Cambridge, was only occupied part-time with his bursarial duties, and, although this was traditional in all but the largest colleges, it seemed to me that a full-time Bursar with no other duties would be desirable, even in a medium-sized college like Christ's. Moreover, it was clear to me that a full-time professional bursar would save the Master a lot of work and trouble. Accordingly, I persuaded the Deputy Treasurer of the University, C. K. Phillips, to resign and become Bursar of Christ's, guaranteeing him terms as good as the university could offer. I was, however, left with another problem. A year or two before I became Master there had been a rather unsavoury row in the college which led to the Senior Tutor giving up his position. His resignation was a serious blow to the college, and I was faced with the problem of working with part-time, reluctant, Senior Tutors with no real policy and no continuity - a disastrous situation for a college to be in. I had always believed that the Senior Tutor should be a full-time servant of the college; the position is too important for it to be in the hands of people who cannot devote their whole time to it. Fortunately I had a great stroke of luck. In 1967, the Commonwealth Fund Trustees would seem to have had a brainstorm, for they let it be known that they were going to cut back or eliminate their Fellowship scheme in Europe and devote their funds to medical research. The Fund had in London a brilliant secretary, S. Gorley Putt, with vast experience in interviewing and selecting young men for Fellowships. Gorley was an old Christ's man and a bachelor, and so had everything I could ask for. I was pretty sure that the Commonwealth Trustees would soon come back to sanity, so, without further ado (or even consulting the College Governing Body), I pounced on Gorley, who to my great joy accepted the post of Senior Tutor in charge of admissions, a position which he held with distinction throughout the remainder of my Mastership. With Phillips and Putt, running Christ's was an easy task, and I believe the College thrived as a result.
A Time to Remember Page 19
