The pros and cons of Britain's imperial past are not a topic of hot discussion down at
the Dog and Duck or in the popular media, and amongst very few is it a matter of
consuming interest. The public is largely ignorant and indifferent; but insofar as
there is any interest, the default view appears to be that the empire was a bad
thing, an extended episode in our history for which we should feel and express
collective shame and guilt. This is as mistaken as the earlier commonplace
assumption that the empire was a good thing, that the Pax Britannia was wholly
benign. In reality there was both bad and good, the bad associated particularly with
the period of expansion and consolidation, the good with the four decades following
the First World War. Few critics distinguish between these two phases of empire.
There are countless academic books and papers which are commendably objective
in chronicling and analysing colonial history. Some popular historians are similarly
neutral; others are partisan, a few trumpeting the merits of Empire, but more
drawing attention to its manifold wickednesses. The last category makes far more
exciting and bloodcurdling reading, and presumably sells more books, and it is these
which seem to be the only sources resorted to by the media commentariat
whenever 'colonialism' is on the agenda. These tend to comprise well-educated
liberals with a predisposition to condemn 'colonialism' out of hand whether they
have any serious knowledge of the subject or not.
A similar tendency prevails in the school system, although teaching history by topic
rather than as a continuum means that a great deal is omitted. However we can be
reasonably certain that if youngsters leave school with little knowledge of our
imperial history, they will at least know about the Atlantic slave trade, and perhaps
the Amritsar massacre of 1919 (see Teaching the Empire). It is equally certain that they will not have heard of
the Colonial Development and Welfare Acts, or that from about 1920 colonial policy
was based not on proprietorship but trusteeship leading to independence. We now
have a generation of younger people who, if they think about it at all, are
encouraged to believe that all the ills of the developing world - and perhaps Africa in
particular - are attributable to 'colonialism'; never mind natural disasters, a hostile
environment, overpopulation, climate, the Cold War, the corruption of many postcolonial
governments, and unfavourable terms of trade. This last might give pause
for thought regarding guilt, for the terms of trade are determined by the West's
collective expectation of an ever-rising standard of living which is to a considerable
extent contingent on exploiting the labour and natural resources of low-income
countries. Sympathy and an occasional donation to Oxfam are poor recompense.
A little over fifty years ago Sir Alan Burns published a book In Defence of Colonies. In fact it is less a defence of colonies than a defence of the manner in
which colonies were governed, with independence as the intended end product - in
contrast to the lamentable standards of government in the countries which were our
most vociferous critics. In its detail the book is dated, but most of the evidence
adduced is still relevant to any analysis of what 'colonialism' was in practice as
distinct from what it is often mistakenly assumed to have been.
This essay offers no defence of imperial expansion, though in passing it might be
noted that at the time it was not seen to be wrong, that most European powers
were at it, and that the process was very largely an extension of national rivalries on
the continent of Europe rather than a drive for territorial expansion. My intention is
simply to challenge, qualify and occasionally correct some of the more egregious and
ill-informed criticisms of policy and practice in the final four decades of Empire.
Here I must declare my personal interest. A study of colonial problems and history
propelled me into the Colonial Service, in which I served as a District Commissioner
in Tanganyika (Tanzania) from 1952-1961. My comments derive from experience
and observations on the ground plus wide reading over the years, and represent a
reaction to the fashionable prevalence of post-colonial guilt, a condition perhaps
even more common now than in the immediate aftermath of empire. By way of
contrast there is no similar collective guilt over the Industrial Revolution, which is
generally viewed with pride, despite its human costs, social disruption, and spoliation
of the landscape. Ironically both imperial expansion and the Industrial Revolution
were financed by the same mercantile and landed classes. Our colonial misdeeds
are frequently paraded, the good deeds largely unremarked. This negativism
reveals a commonplace inability of any current generation to comprehend - or even
be aware - that earlier generations had world views very different from their own,
views conditioned by the circumstances of the time. This lack in no way dilutes the
conviction that the current view - often based on emotion rather than thought - is
the only valid one. The liberal-left interpretation of our imperial adventure leads to
easy assumptions about tyranny, oppression, exploitation, racism and so on.
This bias manifests itself in a variety of ways; selectivity in presenting facts; wilful
misrepresentation and misinterpretation of the facts; choice of vocabulary; picking
out particular reprehensible but rare events and representing them as typical;
attributing failed policies to arrogance or wilfulness; and as noted above judging
past events without regard for the realities of the time. A common error is the
failure to distinguish between the period of imperial expansion up to about 1920, and the subsequent fluctuating commitment to trusteeship and eventual self-government
within the Commonwealth as it was then understood, with Britain as the
senior partner. This policy found an early expression in the document mandating
the administration of Tanganyika Territory (formerly German East Africa) to
Britain. A relevant extract read 'until such time as the native peoples are able to
stand by themselves under the strenuous conditions of the modern world .... the
material and moral well-being and the social progress of the inhabitants forms a
sacred trust of civilization' - a trust to be exercised by the League of Nations and the
administering authority. In similar vein the Duke of Devonshire (Colonial Secretary
1922-24) declared of African colonies in general that 'HMG regard themselves an
exercising a trust on behalf of the African population, and they are unable to
delegate or share this trust, the object of which may be defined as the protection
and advancement of the native races'. On another occasion he stated 'Primarily
Kenya is an African Territory, and HMG think it is necessary definitely to record their
considered opinion that the interests of the African natives must be paramount, and
that if and when those interests and the interests of the immigrant races should
conflict, the former should prevail'. This nearly provoked a settler rising in Kenya
colony, and certainly failed to curb settler influence.
Many critics seem to be unaware of the policy of progressive disengagement, or
simply regard it as so much humbug. It was admittedly one which proceeded very
fitfully; circumstances were different in every colony, HMG and the British public at
the time were preoccupied with war debt, then the Great Depression and the
prospect of a second world war, and it was not until after that war that real progress
was - or could - be made. One may reasonably assume that there was a element of
window dressing in the policy; the reality of any government policy, foreign or
domestic, rarely if ever matches the rhetoric. Then there were senior politicians of
the day, both in Government and Opposition who opposed the policy, notably
Churchill in the Commons and Salisbury in the Lords. Yet the policy was there, as
evidenced in a small way by the 1938 Colonial Office recruitment pamphlet
Appointments in the Colonial Service; the introduction made it clear that there was,
and would continue to be, progress towards self-government: the post-war version
was even clearer. There would have been no good grounds for misrepresenting
matters, and there would have been no shortage of recruits had our stated policy
been to hang on to Empire. Presumably the intention was to attract people who
would be favourably disposed towards measured withdrawal from Empire, and this
was indeed the case even though the process accelerated more rapidly than
expected at the time.
India was very much the jewel in the imperial crown, and was in many respects an
untypical colony. But even in the acquisitive 19th century, Macaulay's mid-century
memorandum predicted that independence would be the inevitable outcome of the
extension of liberal Western education in the subcontinent. India - and perhaps
Ceylon - were arguably the only countries in the colonial empire which were -
objectively- 'ready for independence' before the event.
The philosophy underlying the whole business of trusteeship and withdrawal from
Empire is admirably summarised by Don Taylor in his book The British in Africa
(1962).... 'The policy of the British in Africa has owed its value not to the fact that
they take a larger size in haloes than anybody else but that they know the most
about international sin and have been longest at the penitent form. This is a very
positive virtue in an imperfect world, likely to do more good than any amount of
wishful thinking about the innate goodness of mankind. British policy has been
based on two main propositions: that a community of people under an alien
government, will, in the end, demand to rule themselves; that the duty of the alien
government is to see to it that those people are not only prepared for Government
but are bequeathed a country in as stable a position as possible'. The exercise of this
duty in Africa and elsewhere has had mixed and often unexpected and disappointing
outcomes, but was in itself by no means ignoble.
Comparatively few commentators have noted that Westminster, the Colonial Office,
colonial governors and Legislative Councils did not all sing from the same hymn
sheet, and that colonial governments did not simply follow instructions from London.
Westminster often took its eye off the ball, the Colonial Office provided a measure of
consistency and continuity, whilst colonial governors and legislators had considerable
freedom of action - as did administrators in the field. The scope for the expression
of individualism had advantages and disadvantages; on the plus side individual
initiatives could produce beneficial results, but also led to inconsistencies of policy
between and within colonies.
Let us take a look at other misconceptions and misinformation. I have yet to
stumble across a history of Britain which focuses on failures of government policies
over the centuries. Such a book would make dismal reading, since failure is at least
as common as success. Many policies have been, and still are, ill thought out,
ineptly implemented, and subject to the notorious law of unintended consequences.
We assume that our governments usually think that are acting for the best, and do
not disregard the common good. Yet for critics of Empire, unfortunate outcomes of
policy are attributable to stupidity, arrogance or the absence of fully fledged
democratic institutions - as if democracies are not also prone to failures of policy.
Whatever the regime, cock-ups happen, whilst even legitimate criticism is blessed
with the gift of hindsight.
There is also selection of facts to prove a point. Thus we are periodically reminded
in suitably grisly terms of the Amritsar massacre in 1919, represented as typical of
colonial rule, whereas it was the last gasp of one extreme characteristic of late
Victorian imperialism. We rarely hear that the Guardians of the Golden Temple
applauded General Dyer's action and made him an honorary Sikh, or that a large
section of the Punjabi commercial community thought that he had averted wider civil
unrest.
More recently Britain's colonial record has come under attack for admitted brutalities
during the Mau Mau uprising in Kenya, in dealing with the communist threat in
Malaya, the Greek-backed insurrection in Cyprus, and the chaotic withdrawal from
Aden. Again these events are presented as typical whereas in reality they were
exceptional; most colonies never saw any imperial troops and most achieved
independence with no more than a few broken heads. Mau Mau was not a national
insurrection but a tribal one in pursuit of tribal advantage and reflecting tribal
(Kikuyu) grievances. In Malaya a communist minority of the minority Chinese
population sought to overthrow a legitimate government and seize control. In
Cyprus Greek political activists and guerrillas wanted union with Greece without
regard for the Turkish population, and took up arms to achieve this. In Aden rival
factions wanted us out but declined to discuss terms on which rapid and definitive
constitutional independence could be achieved; they were determined that we
should be driven out at gunpoint rather than withdraw peacefully. Palestine too was
an exceptional case with international ramifications and is outside the scope of this
paper, but In passing it is worth noting that by the mid-1930s Britain sought to
extricate itself from its problematic mandate. Two separate commissions reported in
1937 and 1938 and recommended constitutional exeats; a two-state solution more
favourable to the Arabs than the 1948 dispensation was rejected by them, and a one
state solution safeguarding Arab interests was turned down by the Jews. A world
war then intervened.
It is self evident that writers who were not involved or even alive in colonial times
must rely on the recorded facts, but interpretation of the facts is often questionable.
It is also obvious that the record is incomplete. It may be doubted that many
district office files covering the period of say 1920-1965 remain in either district
offices or national archives of former colonies. The typical district office turned out
perhaps three or four hundred letters and memos a month, to native authorities,
businessmen, senior officers and members of the public. Were it possible to analyse
these a picture would be revealed of an administration which was essentially liberal
and humane, fair, dispassionate, and revealing a preparedness to bend the rules or
turn a blind eye if it was in the local public interest to do so. Then there were letters
home, now destroyed or mouldering forgotten in attics; and in personal archives the
occasional appreciative letter of thanks addressed to a colonial official for his resolution of a personal or local problem. There were also the tens of thousands of
men and women, mostly now dead, who called at the district office with a problem,
complaint or petition in the knowledge that it would be fairly and - usually -
sympathetically dealt with. But their voices are now silent, unlike the voices of those
critics who take the simplistic view that because 'colonialism' was wrong everything
done in the name of colonialism was also wrong. By the same token, everything
done by the government of a democratic state should be good - but this is
manifestly not so.
Let us now turn to the vocabulary commonly employed in describing the colonial
state, starting with 'colonialism' itself. 'Isms' tend to be based on an underlying
philosophy or dogma of some kind, be it communism, feminism, Pelmanism or
nationalism. If there ever was such a philosophy relating to the colonial enterprise,
it was surely during the period of expansion, and rightly referred to as 'imperialism';
even then much of the expansion was ad hoc and opportunistic, or almost
accidental. If there ever was 'colonialism' it surely ceased when trusteeship replaced
proprietorship; after the early 1920s we had - if anything - 'de-colonialism'. Again
'colonialism' suggests colonisation, whereas in fact most colonies were not colonised;
those that had been became Dominions. Meanwhile 'colonialism' persists, largely as
a term of abuse - hence the inverted commas in this text.
Colonial rule has often been critically described as both oppressive and paternalistic,
concepts which are mutually contradictory. Rule which does not conform precisely
with our ideals of democracy is not by definition oppressive, although it can be; and
rule by civil servant is not self-evidently more oppressive than rule be elected
politicians, especially when moderated by legislative councils. Large sections of any
population object to much of what any government does, whether democratic or
colonial; it does not follow that that government is oppressive. What matters in
practice is how that government conducts itself and the extent to which if furthers
the best interests of its people; it should by now be clear that an election does not
create a democracy. I do not know how the word 'paternalistic' acquired a
pejorative or dismissive meaning; in its literal sense it surely suggests a protective
instinct, possibly patronising at worst, but certainly not oppressive. The paternalistic
colonial state had something in common with the modern 'nanny state'; it cared.
And sometimes nanny did - and does - know best. Given that one of our purposes
was to drag the colonies into the 20th century, with at least some of the benefits
which this would bring, we were collectively better - equipped to take a lead than
most of the people amongst whom we worked, the majority of whom saw the future
essentially as a continuation of the past. We did not of course always get it right - no governments do. If there is a fault in attitudes it is that whilst we sought to
engage pretty comprehensively with the typically 90% plus rural populations, we
neglected to engage in the same way with the small educated and urban classes
who were often seen as actual or potential trouble-makers - as some were - rather
than collaborators in legitimate change.
Another loaded word associated with 'colonialism' is exploitation. The word has both
positive and negative connotations, but in the colonial context the implication is
invariably negative, suggesting something akin to robbery. But exploitation is a
feature of all societies, embracing property, land, personal and employment
relationships, the accumulation and utilisation of capital, natural resources, trade
and so on. In the capitalist system it benefits all, but particularly the successful
entrepreneur, whilst under communism it tends to benefit party apparatchiks. So
exploitation was not a uniquely wicked feature of 'colonialism'; the 'colonialists' who
were exploiting Africans and Indians two hundred years ago were precisely the same
class which initiated the Industrial Revolution, thereby exploiting the British
labouring classes, with women and children sent down coal mines and set to work in
factories for 12 hours a day 6 days a week. Despite the social upheaval the
Industrial Revolution is perceived as beneficial, despite its casualties; it is not seen
as a matter for national shame or as a stick with which to beat earlier generations of
entrepreneurs. The pre-colonial Atlantic slave trade was a gross example of the
exploitation of people, but it is worth reminding ourselves that British nationals were,
effectively, the first slaves in the West Indian plantations - indentured labourers and
debtors. They could not stand arduous work in the tropics, and were apt to die of
exhaustion or illness before being released from bondage.
Again, we are often accused of exploiting the natural resources of the colonies;
utilising natural resources has been a function of mankind ever since homo sapiens
stood up on his hind legs. First and foremost we exploited our own natural
resources - timber, coal, iron, tin and soil, as all people do in proportion to their
level of technology and aspiration. It is true that the colonies were seen as sources
of raw materials, which were then processed in the industrialised world rather than
in the countries of origin, thus eliminating the prospect of locally added value. The
alternative would have required heavy and often risky investment; and whilst
subsequently there has been much investment, exports even now tend to be primary
products, especially in the less developed countries. It is invariably assumed that
the benefits of commercial enterprise in the colonies accrued exclusively to the
owners and stockholders of British companies. Certainly they were far and away the
main beneficiaries - though companies were also known to go bust. But there were
residual cumulative benefits within the colonies, increasingly funding the institutions
of government, and later an expanding range of social goods. (I think I am right in
saying that - excluding India - our colonies were a nett liability to the British
Exchequer from the early 1920s onwards).
In any discussion on 'colonialism' reference will be made at some stage to the
'struggle for independence'. This struggle is partly fact, partly myth. In India
certainly there was vigorous political agitation which predated HMGs adoption of the
trusteeship principle; injuries were inflicted, lives were lost, and prison beckoned the
agitators; to this extent there was struggle. Subsequent bloodletting in periodic
rioting, and Gandhi's campaigns of non-violent protest reflected impatience with
Britain's tardiness in moving its most developed possession towards Independence;
the second world war resulted in further delay and friction.
But India was not typical. Elsewhere the struggle was largely fiction, designed to
show 'freedom fighters' in a heroic light, and post-independence to boost the self-esteem
of former colonial peoples. There was inevitable tension between 'them and
us' as to when a given colony or protectorate was ready for independence. Naturally
local politicians and their supporters wanted it sooner rather than later, whilst we
were more cautious, generally wishing to see more economic development, and a
more experienced indigenous political class and civil service before handing over.
Meanwhile we would hold the ring. In individual cases there could be economic,
strategic or security reasons - or excuses - for further delay.
Insofar as there was a struggle it was over timing, not principle, which had been
established decades earlier. In late colonial times no local politician or agitator faced
execution, though many courted a spell of imprisonment as a badge of honour.
Where bloodshed occurred it almost always derived from the duty of any
government to maintain or restore law and order, in circumstances in which it is
irresponsible to do nothing. Malaya, Kenya, Cyprus and Aden were extreme and
atypical examples of this requirement. In most colonies the struggle was a fiction,
and was in reality simply the application of political and popular pressure to
accelerate independence in the knowledge that it was going to happen anyway. The
'freedom fighters' were always pushing at an open door, and their leaders knew it.
This is not to say that there were no dinosaurs around who wished it was otherwise;
and many officials thought, with good reason, that a few more years of preparation
would be no bad thing had it been possible.
Before moving on from the requirement to maintain law and order it should be
explained that by and large the indigenous populations of the colonies were peaceful
and law abiding, particularly in rural areas, and mob violence was as rare as the
violence that was sometimes needed to contain or suppress it. And need generally
arose because the forces of law and order - typically the local police contingent -
was heavily outnumbered; the ratio of police to population was much smaller than in
the UK. Extreme measures became a substitute for numbers. By contrast, when
rioting occurs in Britain, large bodies of police can usually be assembled to control it
without resort to firearms.
The old Roman dictum 'divide and rule' crops up in anti-colonial criticism more often
than is justified. Certainly it had its place in the process of imperial expansion and in
overcoming local opposition to it. But in the last few decades of the colonial era? In
readying a colony for independence I can think of no worse recipe for governments
to follow. It is possible, and I speculate, that many local politicians in the years
immediately prior to independence perceived our party system as divisive, the notion
of a loyal opposition completely alien; and of course it is divisive unless one accepts
an overarching loyalty to the state and its people. But at the time of independence
the main thrust of colonial politics was a legitimate wish 'to run our own affairs'. It
is common to speak of nationalist politicians, but in reality most of the indigenous
populations had little or no sense of nationhood, despite several decades of unified
colonial rule; horizons were defined by family, clan and tribe and even the district
could appear an amorphous concept, let alone the nation. It was local differences
which provided divisiveness, not the colonial power seeking to establish a cohesive
and viable nation state. Some colonies of course displayed few symptoms of division
either before or after independence.
A fashionable euphemism which has crept into use latterly is the reference to
indigenous functionaries and civil servants in colonial times as 'collaborators',
equating them with the Norwegian Quisling and French Laval and Retain, who
collaborated with the Nazis following the military conquests of 1940. In a purely
literal sense the indigenous peoples who worked with, and for us, collaborators
- but not in the negative emotive sense implied. With very few exceptions the
colonies were not nation states when we acquired them, so there was no
consequential disloyalty or traitorousness to the state - as was the case in German -
occupied Europe.
Indeed the colonies became nation states in consequence of colonial rule, as did
local nationalisms - albeit that such nationalisms often developed from opposition to
colonial rule rather than from a clear sense of nationhood. Again, collaboration in
WWII Europe required subordination to a more powerful invader of comparable
culture and levels of economic development; by contrast, colonial occupation, over
time, provided an entry into the modern world and the prospect - initially a very dim
one - of improvement, development, and personal advancement within the politico-economic
system which opened up these prospects. At the present time, for good
or ill, the populations of former colonies voluntarily aspire to or 'collaborate with'
manifestations of western culture and enterprise which are alien. Colonialism -
again for good or ill - hastened this process, and probably few would wish to revert
to an earlier pre-modern way of life. This is not to suggest that the outcomes are
wholly beneficial, and millions are mired in poverty, ill health and malnutrition - but
not primarily in consequence of a colonial rule which effectively ended 50 years ago.
Predictably, 'colonialism' prompts accusations of 'racism' an 'ism' which wasn't in the
vocabulary when it was most in evidence - say from the late 15th to early 20th
centuries - when it was presumably seen as perfectly natural. Even then it was by
no means universal, and British nabobs in India made honourable marriages with
Indian women, and adopted local customs. Nor was it all one way; the Chinese
regarded westerners as barbarians - not entirely without reason. However, an
amateur analysis of early colonial attitudes towards race has no part in a paper more
particularly concerned with the later period of trusteeship. I see 'racism' as a rather
slippery word, more typically deployed to shut down discussion then to advance it; I
will stick with the earlier and more meaningful discrimination and prejudice.
Some critics quote examples of extreme discrimination perpetrated more than a
century ago as if they were still typical on the eve of independence. In reality overt
prejudice waned during the 20th century, most markedly after each of the two world
wars. It is likely that there were differences between colonies, and I can refer only
to my own experience and observation with absolute certainty. I witnessed very
little prejudice in the civil service, but there was a very small minority amongst us
whose attitudes might be politely defined as old-fashioned. Prejudice was perhaps
rather more common in the private sector, where there was a wider range of
expatriate nationalities in junior supervisory positions.
In general expatriate civil servants related to Africans very much on a man to man
basis and with the usual courtesies in either Swahili or English, and sometimes with
rather more sensitivity than we would accord to a fellow countryman. I witnessed a
classic example of this when, one day, I entered a colleague's office and found him
and his African visitor sitting on the floor engaged in conversation. When I quizzed
him later, he explained that the African had ignored the proffered chair and sat on
the floor; my colleague thought it only polite to join him there. Where there were
elements of de haut en bas derived from seniority or status rather than prejudice.
Older Africans were addressed with particular respect, whilst trusted domestic
servants were often treated as members of the family, and frequently became
lifelong friends. There was occasional condescension, patronisation and insensitivity,
but it would be ungenerous to read too much into this; these characteristics are not
unknown within our own society.
In Tanganyika, and no doubt elsewhere, there were institutional features which have
mistakenly been perceived as discriminatory. One was the existence of four or five
government boarding schools built primarily for the children of expatriate officials.
Their purpose was to encourage recruitment of much needed expatriate staff after
the second world war; potential candidates could well be put off by the prospect of
otherwise having to pay boarding school fees in Britain, and seeing their children
only every 2-4 years when on home leave. Similarly there were 2 or 3 European
hospitals but most of us necessarily resorted to the same medical services as
Africans - except that we, unlike them, had to pay for some of them.
In similar vein there is the frequent criticism of the slow rate of indigenisation of the
upper echelons of territorial civil services. India was a notable exception, with
Indians admitted to the hitherto exclusively expatriate Indian Civil Services (ICS) on
the basis of competitive examination from the last quarter of the 19th century; the
downside was that they had to sit the examination in London, so that recruitment
was limited to the well-heeled. But in general, the criticism is valid, though cannot
be attributed to prejudice. Throughout the period of trusteeship the empire was
financially under-resourced and overstretched, so that too few graduates were
produced to serve the requirements of government. A further problem varying from
colony to colony, was that a high proportion of such graduates as there were sought
employment in the private sector or the professions rather than the civil service, and
aspired to get away from the rural areas where most expatriate officials were happy
to see out their careers.
Whilst the shortage of qualified and experienced manpower at the time of
independence is beyond doubt, there is a further reason for this which is largely
overlooked. This is that local and international pressures resulted in independence
arriving several decades before HMG had intended or planned; so we are blamed for
not having achieved by 1960(ish) a level of preparedness which we had not
expected to achieve until near the end of the century. It was clear on the ground
that the Westminster/Whitehall time frame was unrealistic even if not wholly
undesirable. With hindsight there was a serious error of judgement, representing a
conflict between an idealised and protective view of 'readiness for independence'
and mid-century realpolitik.
In fact and in fiction 'the club' is often represented as a bastion of race prejudice. In
itself the concept of an expatriate club is completely understandable. We were the
aliens, a small minority in a foreign land, who spent our days working with and for
the benefit of local people, speaking their language, and absorbed by their concerns.
What more natural or reasonable than to want to spend some leisure time amongst
fellow-exiles, to let one's hair down, air grumbles and opinions, discuss the current
Test Match, or occasionally behave within the confines of the club as one would not
normally behave outside it. Indians, Malays and Africans had their clubs, why not
the British, Greeks, Lebanese and other expatriates? The club which had regular
guest nights, when members invited their indigenous friends for drinks, a meal, a
dance or to witness amateur dramatics, was a social asset. What was discriminating
and unacceptable was the club that did not, and presumably there were some.
Let us now turn to the matter of democracy, and two common criticisms; that
colonial rule was undemocratic, and that when independence came to be seen as
the end product, the Westminster model was imposed in a one size fits all fashion.
The first assertion is true, the second less so, and both need qualification. Until the 1950s little was known about the histories of many of the territories which came
under colonial rule; subsequent research revealed that whilst - as was commonly
assumed - there were native dictatorships and autocracies on one hand, on the
other there were societies which had characteristics which were recognisably
democratic. Participatory politics was not uniquely British.
In early colonial times our rule was, almost by definition authoritarian - often
necessarily so. But as central and local government structures bedded in, authority
mellowed - particularly following the onset of trusteeship, a tendency which
accelerated after the Second World War. Instruction on the basis that 'we know
best' gave way to consultation and dialogue, and much of a district commissioner's
time was spent discussing matters of local concern in village meetings, district
councils, and with the farmer in his field - taking note and later taking action. In
this sense, although a government functionary he also had a touch of a constituency
MP about him in the days before parliamentary elections; he was closer to his public
than senior officials in Britain are to theirs. As noted earlier democracy is not
defined by elections alone, but by the manner in which a government conducts itself
and responds to public need and opinion. Colonial rule could be surprisingly liberal,
receptive, and responsive. Individualism has been mentioned earlier; this could
sometimes lead to inconsistencies in district administration, and a certain
bewilderment in the local population. On the other hand the wide discretion given
to the district commissioner also allowed him to ease up on or even ignore
government policies if he was convinced that it was in the local interest to do so.
The 'democratic deficit' was more apparent than real in late colonial times, but a
residue of authority remained with the expatriate official because, until the flags
changed, someone had to carry the can.
As to the Westminster model, it can fairly be asked what other model would we have
been qualified to offer. Certainly it would have been unrealistic to devise different
forms of government for each of fifty different territories. Half a century ago our
form of parliamentary government was more highly regarded than it is today, both
by ourselves and internationally. It had been replicated in the Dominions, and there
seemed no reason why it should not work in the colonies as they achieved
independence and aspired - as most did - to statehood within the Commonwealth.
But I run ahead of myself. It can be assumed that the early empire builders did not
suppose they were founding future independent democracies; but as a rule they did
establish Legislative Councils. Initially comprising only officials and sometimes
members of the new colonial elite, these bodies were susceptible of incremental
development into independent governments - and indeed ensured it as indigenous
people were appointed or elected to them. The legislatures of the thirteen American
colonies had already demonstrated their refusal to be indefinitely ruled from Britain.
In the new empire the lesson had yet to be learned, and future policies and
interactions would determine the what, how, and when of constitutional evolution.
As late as the first decade of the 20th century when Indians already played a part in
provincial legislatures, Lord Cromer observed that in the colonial context
'Parliamentary institutions were an exotic system', and that 'democracy would enable
a small minority of natives to misgovern their countrymen' - which turned out to be
true in a number of cases. However, with trusteeship there emerged a vision of
eventual independence as parliamentary democracies. Our model had served us
well, and it seemed to be the obvious way to go. For the next two or three decades
it went very slowly, but speeded up after the Second World War.
The assumption that the replication of our form of government was 'best' could be
regarded as arrogant and an imposition. But it should be remembered that at the
time it was widely admired internationally - and by many native colonial politicians.
Some nationalist leaders approved the principle - with or without conviction - whilst
others took the view that 'if it's good enough for you it's good enough for us' - they
were not going to be fobbed off with an inferior product; and some no doubt
thought that it didn't matter anyway - they could do as they pleased after
independence whilst still enjoying the same rituals and privileges as the mother of
parliaments. It would be fruitless and presumptuous to generalise about the varied
motives and intentions of our successors at the time of independence but a former
colonial administrator and governor made this retrospective and relevant
observation: 'Of course we made plenty of mistakes and showed all the human
failings, but perhaps our greatest fault was to join with those to whom we
transferred power in a conspiracy of optimism. Our expectations and theirs were too
high' (John Smith in his Forward to Symbol Of Authority: The British District Officer in Africa. I think that he was right, although it does not excuse subsequent instances
of misrule and political corruption in some of the former colonies. However it is also
pleasing to note that in recent years there have been fewer coups d'etat than
formerly, and an increase in the number of heads of state and prime ministers who
have stepped down following election defeat. If there is a lesson to be learned from
our colonial experience it is that democracy is a tender plant which cannot be
reliably transplanted, and requires a fertile soil in its new location. Had the lesson
been learned, our recent interventions in the Middle and Near East world have been
more cautious.
Half a century after our withdrawal from empire, we are sometimes criticised by the
left for hanging on to the colonies too long, and by the right for abandoning them
prematurely. Excluding India (and Ceylon?) where we arguably did stay
unnecessarily long, neither proposition is tenable. We may have outstayed our
welcome In some cases, but that is a rather different matter. If, instead of
embarking on an extended period of trusteeship in the 1920s we had simply walked
away, can anyone suppose that the ex-colonies would have benefited? As to
abandoning them in the 1950-60s, the momentum towards early independence was
unstoppable; the use of force was electorally unthinkable, and wholly at odds with
the principle embodied in trusteeship. On the other hand a mutually agreed
extended period of internal self-government in collaboration with expatriate civil
servants would almost certainly have been advantageous in many cases.
In retrospect and in terms of more recent international norms, it can fairly be said of
our former colonies (and those of Spain, France, Portugal, the Netherlands, Belgium, Germany, Italy and the USA et al) that we should never have been there in the first place. But
we were, and eventually steered them towards independent statehood in the
modern world - with admittedly variable results. Critics have a tendency to suppose
that if what became the colonies of European powers had been left to their own
devices, all would now be well. It is possible, but unlikely. Africa is typically
presented as the major victim, but is probably the least likely to have reached the 21st
Century without major upheavals. We know that in pre-colonial times there
were a few African empires such as Songhai, Ghana, Ethiopia and Monomatapa
(Zimbabwe) and some functioning proto-states such as Zululand and West African
city states. But taking Africa as a whole, with literally hundreds of large and small
polities, ethnicities and languages, how are we to imagine them coalescing into a
much smaller number of coherent and viable modern states other than by the usual
processes of war, conquest, shifting alliances, negotiation, breaking up and reforming?
Such a process might still be going on; perhaps it is, despite acceptance of
inherited colonial boundaries.
Again, even had there been no colonial occupation, powerful external interests
would have exerted pressure and influence for their own advantage. In these
circumstances it is not difficult to envisage a scenario in which foreign trading
concerns would have co-operated with local leaders and entrepreneurs at the
comparatively few coastal locations with good harbours, and set about exploiting the
interior for their mutual advantage - a re-run of the slave trade but with
commodities instead of people. The likely outcome would have been a few very
prosperous coastal city states and a largely neglected interior - except as a source
of profit; one could then go on to predict future unrest in the landlocked interior. It
is unlikely that a form of utopia would have emerged; the only certainty is that the
map of Africa would look very different. As things stand, we created embryo nation
states with arbitrary national boundaries, and expected (post 1920) that they would
finally become self-governing states within the Commonwealth. And yes, few of the
imposed national boundaries made sense on the ground, but historically this goes
for many or most national boundaries at one time or another. The old Organisation
of African Unity (OAU) considered whether or not to adjust their inherited
boundaries, and decided against. One can see why, but a bit of tweaking here and
there might have been possible without any significant loss of face; however
experience elsewhere suggest that migration across land borders tends to render
them obsolete in time.
In conclusion, and since actions are said to speak louder than words, perhaps the
most telling response to the more fanciful criticisms of Britain's colonial rule was
provided by the colonial peoples themselves in WWII. 0ver 2 million Indians and
tens of thousands of other indigenous 'colonials' volunteered to fight the common
enemy or support the war effort in other capacities. This demonstrated that they were not entirely discontented with British rule - or that they expected their own
parts of the Empire to become independent in the not too distant future; to suggest
otherwise is to dishonour their memory. It cannot be assumed that they were ali
simply deluded or unemployed. Ironically, it seems that their children and
grandchildren tend to be more critical of colonial rule than those who experienced it
and who are now mostly dead - as are all my Tanzanian friends.
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