To the generation that carries memories of pre-Independence India, British presence was an accepted part of the political and cultural milieu. The British dominated the Indian armed forces, the police and the railways.
Individuals vied to get jobs with British companies which were considered the gold standard in corporate employment. Names like Imperial Chemical Industries, Metal Box and Imperial Tobacco attracted the best among young Indian job seekers.
British companies based in Kolkata (then called Calcutta) controlled the coal, tea and trading industries and those in Mumbai (formerly Bombay) controlled the textile, utility and railway industries. Foreign, yes, but the British were the ever-present source of power and influence in India. How did this small island nation of sea-farers become the world’s most dominant power, subjugating and colonising areas all over the world in total disproportion to its size?
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Amitav Ghosh’s trilogy —
Ghosh’s narratives are characterised by truly compelling levels of complexity and depth of detail. The author describes village life in Bihar in the early nineteenth century where economic disparities, exacerbated by the pervasive influence of caste, undergirded social relationships. Insert the East India Company, encouraging local cultivation of opium in the poverty-stricken land to supply its processing factories for trade to China.
And now you have a picture of dominance and exploitation driven by the imperatives of economic opportunism.
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The Company exploited local politics to suit its economic goals. To this end, it manipulated local rulers to permit its own laws and maintain its own judicial infrastructure — courts, police force and army — to enforce them. There were no indigenous forces strong enough to offer opposition.
Enter Raja Neel Rattan Halder, the literate and well educated zamindar of Raskhali, who belonged to “one of the oldest and most noted families of Bengal.” The author reveals in the appendix to the Sea of Poppies that his own grandmother was the zamindar’s granddaughter in real life, which infuses a sense of personal history throughout the trilogy.
The zamindar’s father, profligate, irresponsible and unresponsive to the needs of his people — reminiscent of the noblemen in Satyajit Ray’s movie Shatranj Ke Khiladi — had run up some huge debts. Through a judicial sleight of hand, Halder was found guilty of breach of contract in relation to these debts. All his property was seized, and he was summarily exiled for seven years to Mauritius.
The author narrates the stories of at least seven individuals from seemingly divergent backgrounds, and skillfully braids their lives together in a set of surprising circumstances on board the prison ship, Ibis , in its ill-fated voyage to Mauritius. His research into a wide variety of topics, which taken individually seem disparate, but collectively lend a colorful mosaic feature to the narrative.
These topics range from the esoteric, for example, naval architecture, to the mundane, for example, language — Bhojpuri, spoken by the villagers in Bihar, and Pidgin English, used among people of different geographical backgrounds in the nautical profession. Equally important, they give insights into the sanctimonious defense of free markets on which the English traders relied to justify their opium trade.
Finally, they highlight the inherent weakness in the Indian polity that enabled the British to gain stronghold in the Indian subcontinent, which their co-victims, the Chinese attempted heroically, but unsuccessfully, to avoid.
On ‘Pidgin English’
The crew of the Ibis consisted of Indians, Burmese, Malays, Chinese and other nationalities. Communication between members of this group and their white bosses was in a tongue commonly described as ‘Pidgin English.’ The author provides an extensive glossary to this linguistic mutation in an appendix to the Sea of Poppies .
The nautical term for crew was lascar, the origins of which was drawn from “Persian, Hindusthani and Portugese.” Among the lascars was a hierarchy, at the top of which was the serang or senior sailor. The author constructs this amusing conversation between a white crew member and a serang .
The gist of the conversation is pretty clear!
On naval architecture
In his detailed description of the Ibis, the author engages in an interesting foray into naval architecture ( Sea of Poppies ). Here is a short passage that describes the ship.
The author’s coverage of the sea battles between the powerful British navy and the woefully unprepared Chinese ships ( Flood of Fire ) provides more technical fare. Such descriptions would either bewilder most landlubbers with their technicalities or leave them, fascinated with their exotic content, wanting more.
On religion and free markets
The zamindar had invited Mr. Burnham (a British trader headquartered in Kolkata) and a couple of others to dinner in his ship. Mr. Burnham was lamenting that the opium trade with China was meeting resistance from the authorities. The sanctimonious attitude of the British towards pushing opium trade with China is best exemplified by the following dialogue.
The Company arrived in India and South East Asia to explore trading opportunities. It quickly discovered the enormous profit potential in trading with these nations which were far richer at that time than some European nations. As it consolidated its presence in these countries, the Company recognised the growing market for opium in China.
To further this specialised trade, it encouraged the cultivation of opium in India and processing the crop in its Indian factories for eventual sale in China. The conversation suggests that the enormous profits from this trade — a veritable cash cow for the Company — was the sole raison d'etre for its presence in India. In fact, it was stated that the level of these profits was higher than the GDP of the nascent United States.
It is universally accepted that the profit motive is the underlying driver of all business activities. Without profits, no business can sustain itself or grow. It is also recognised that businesses thrive best in free markets. However, elevating free trade to the status of a divine sanction, while ignoring the fact that it is only an organising principle, reeks of sanctimonious hypocrisy. Thus, the British traders came to terms with this nefarious activity even though the more ethically minded among them might have questioned its moral basis.
That brings us to the broader question of free markets. A market is the most efficient device for consummating transactions. Markets facilitate the free exchange of goods and services for barter or for currency. The consensus reached between a group of sellers of a particular good or service and a group of buyers of that particular good or service establishes the price at which the exchange takes place.
Thus, competitive markets make price discovery possible which is the baseline for individual valuation of the good or service. However, for a market to function efficiently, it should be much larger than any participant so that none of them, individually or jointly, can influence prices.
This requirement assumes a level of homogeneity among participants, for example about prior information on factors affecting the supply or demand for a particular good or service. When these necessary conditions are not obtained, market prices may be manipulated to give the participant with power, or the one with monopolistic access to information, an advantage over others.
Markets are not inherently designed to offer all participants a level playing field. Ethical principles do not guide their operations, for markets are not endowed with a moral compass. To be free and fair, markets need active oversight and when required, strict regulation.
The Company was willing to go to war with the Chinese emperor to protect the opportunity to push opium trade on the populace in this imperfect and uncompetitive market. It justified its ostensible stance with the hypocritical claim that it was protecting free trade.
And the Company sanctimoniously invoked divine sanction for free trade.
Mark Twain said it best: “When the rich rob the poor it’s called business. When the poor fight back it’s called violence.” The need for free but fair markets was never more evident.
On dividing, conquering and ruling
By the end of the 18th century and the beginning of the next, India was a country riven by culture, traditions and language. Local and regional identities surpassed any sense of a national identity. This geographical heterogeneity in its demographics was evident in the political sphere as well.
The declining years of the Mughal empire led to “powerful successor states, like those of Bengal, Hyderabad (Nizam), Pune (the Peshwa), Mysore (Hyder Ali), and Lahore (the Sikhs).” These centres of power were populated by smaller kingdoms, territories ruled over by lesser kings, nawabs, and zamindars.
In this fragmented landscape, the Company found circumstances just fortuitous enough to follow through on its policy of divide, conquer and rule. Through negotiation backed up by force, the Company insinuated itself on the Indian body politic, swallowing each territory, until it became a power that could not be ignored.
Emperor Shah Alam II granted a title to EICo “which was now tantamount to sovereignty over a province (Bengal) that enjoyed virtual autonomy.” None of “most power-brokers in Bengal opposed their new superior. In fact many argued strongly in favour of British intervention. Foreign rule in India was seldom regarded as objectionable, per se.” (Keay 2000, p. 382).
Simon Se bag Montefiore observes in The Romanovs: 1613-1918 , “Russian pattern of behavior is servility to those above, tyranny to those below.” History repeated itself, but this time, in India. Seth Bah ram Modee, a character in the second of Ghosh’s trilogy — River Of Smoke — was a Parsi trader from Bombay who had been successful in the opium trade in China.
The Chinese officials were considering arresting him along with some British opium traders to warn other traders of the danger of continuing this business. Neel had a conversation with two Chinese gentlemen who are closely watching the reaction of the Chinese bureaucrats looking for ways to halt the opium trade.
The history of the Company’s activities in India, and how it led to the country’s fate as a vassal colony of the British, was not lost on the Chinese. Armed with this knowledge, they were determined that China did not end up like India. It is unfortunate that India found itself an inadvertent co-conspirator with the Company in its nefarious trade with the Chinese people.
In conclusion, Ghosh spins a great yarn — educative and entertaining — holding the reader spell bound, force marching from page to page, volume through volume. The author skillfully develops the interactions of the central characters against the backdrop of the sociological norms, historical and political facts of their times.
The poverty-stricken villagers of early nineteenth century Bihar, differentiated by caste, were incentivised by the Company into supporting its opium trade with China. The Indian polity fragmented by culture, traditions, language and size presented no serious opposition to the avaricious intruder for whom economic spoils superceded ethical or moral considerations.
A constant in world history has been the interconnection between nations — sometimes naturally evolved, voluntary, invited or even imposed upon. In the early nineteenth century, the interwoven histories of India, Britain, and China resulted in gains for one at the cost of losses for the others. Ghosh’s trilogy is historical fiction indeed, but it is built on a kernel of truth that prompts the question: where would India be today if things had been different then?
P. C. Kumar PhD retired as Professor Emeritus, Kogod School of Business, American University, Washington, DC. He now lives in the Bay Area in California. He can be contacted at pck045@gmail.com.