Four years in Upper Burma

by W. R. Winston

The post, the telegraph and the telephone, which are now amongst the necessities of civilised life, have all been established in Upper Burma, and are now in thorough working order. In fact, so civilised has Upper Burma become, that a movement is on foot for a private company to lay down several miles of tramway in the streets of Mandalay, and start a service of trams; and another scheme has been submitted for lighting the principal streets with electricity.

A government in an Oriental country, to be successful, must, before everything else, be strong, and nothing contributes more to this than an efficient police. At the outset, the establishment of order was largely a military work, and the brunt of it rested on our British and Sepoy troops. But gradually as the country settled down, the troops were reduced, and the police took over the work of keeping order. Here was considerable scope for organisation. In most of the countries where English rule has been established, we have managed to organise a police out of the materials the country supplied. But the Burmans do not prove very tractable for this, so that whilst there has been special need for a strong police to keep matters in order, it so happens that we have a people specially wanting in the qualities necessary for this work. The police officers complain that the Burmans in the force “cannot be trusted to oppose a larger force of dacoits, or to do sentry work.” The Burman finds great difficulty in submitting to discipline or carrying out any regular routine whatever in a reliable manner. He loves to have his own way, to feel free to come and go just when he likes, and generally to go on in a careless and casual manner.

After the annexation of Pegu in 1853, an attempt was made to raise a military battalion of Burmese. By an unintentional irony it was called “The Pegu Light Infantry.” It was found that they were altogether too light and lacking in the spirit of discipline ever to make good soldiers, and the Pegu Light Infantry was accordingly disbanded.

For this reason Government has had to look elsewhere for its police, and they have been recruited chiefly from amongst the warlike races of Northern India, with a sprinkling of Burmans, who are necessary for the detection of crime, and for such work as their knowledge of their own people and language the better fits them. During the troublous times of 1886-89 there has been a force of twenty thousand civil and military police, about two-thirds of whom were natives of India. But as the number of crimes of violence decreases, it becomes possible greatly to reduce this number.

Of all the numerous innovations on Oriental methods of government which we have introduced, that of local self-government, as applied to municipalities, is perhaps the most noteworthy, not for what it does at present, but for what it leads up to. This little seedling of representative government we are sedulously planting everywhere throughout our Indian Empire, and nurturing it with patient and sympathetic care; and he would indeed be worthy of the name of prophet who could say whereunto it will grow. Never under any Indian or Burmese rule was there a vestige of representative government, but we think it well to train them up to it.

The schoolboy in India has the History of England put into his hands, and there he learns what Englishmen think of liberty and self-government; and he finds that the ruling power has broadened down in the course of ages from the one to the few, from the few to the many, and from the many to the whole population, who now really govern themselves. Our British policy is to organise municipalities in every considerable town. We, the governing power, call together a native municipal committee, as representative as we can make it by nomination, and then we say in effect, “Now we have called you in to consult with us, the leading English representatives of government, and by your votes to show your opinions on such questions as the cleaning, the lighting, the paving, and the sanitation of the town, its water supply, the regulation of its markets, and a number of other local matters, and we ask you to vote supplies of money for these things, and to levy taxes and rates accordingly.”

All these things are matters of course to the Englishman in his own country, and if any of them were conducted without consulting him through his elected representatives, he would soon want to know the reason why. But not so with the Oriental; they are to him innovations of an unheard-of character. Neither he nor any of his forefathers were ever asked to do such a thing as vote before. It is no wonder, therefore, if our worthy native citizen takes his seat as he is bidden in the municipal council-chamber of his town, bewildered at first with this unwonted experience, voting to the best of his ability as he thinks the worthy president, the English Deputy Commissioner of the district, would desire him to vote. But in course of time he comes to see what it all means, for the Oriental is by no means deficient in perception. He sees that the measures proposed and carried affect him and his kindred and his neighbours, and he begins to see that a voice and a vote mean power, and that these are questions which touch his pocket and circumstances.

By-and-by the people find that the municipal ordinance provides for the expression of their opinions in a more direct and effective way. The rule is, that “as soon as any town desires to elect its members it is permitted to do so.” In many towns in India they are now elected. We have in Upper Burma seventeen municipalities, but in no case yet is there any election of members; they are all appointed by nomination. The change from the full-blown doctrine of the divine right of kings, in its completest form, to representative government, is too sudden for them to realise where they are as yet. But it will come. All the teaching we give them, both by precept and example, is in effect this: that the true ideal of government is government by the people, and that all other forms of government are only temporary expedients leading up to it.

We cannot wonder if in time they follow the path where it logically leads them to a wider outlook than merely municipal affairs. “If in municipal why not in national affairs?” they will naturally ask. The National Congress in India is the natural sequence of all this. It is the feeling after some arrangement or institution that shall give effect to the will of the people, on many more matters than they are at present consulted upon. It may be silly sometimes, and selfish, and reactionary, and stupidly conservative, and childish, but whatever its faults, its follies, and its weaknesses, it is at all events our own bantling, the child of our own careful nurture and instruction. It is no use our attempting to frown it out of countenance; what we have to do is to take it by the hand, and guide it until it reaches years of discretion.