A long time ago, I studied nineteenth-century British historiography - that of the Reformation. So I was immediately intrigued by this fascinating, highly reflective study that goes beyond investigating how historical thinking informed political decisions and popular opinion in nineteenth-century and early twentieth-century Britain and its empire, to explaining how history as a discipline is complicit in the making of our exploitative and dehumanizing world order, and to opening up new ways for humans to think about history as a whole (incorporating insights from south Asian and anti-colonial thought). How did people of conscience, who existed in a particularly moralistic era, reconcile their beliefs with the depredations of empire? In fact, as Priya Satia shows, a knowledge of history was no hindrance - and indeed it was considered the subject most worthy of study by statesmen and what we might call today “thought leaders.”
For much of modern history, Satia argues, historians were not critics of power, as we anxious, left-leaning bookworms might hope, but sophisticated apologists for it. The great British historical tradition that arose in the nineteenth century, sprung out of Enlightenment ideals, developed alongside the Empire and was ineluctably entangled with it. And - by extension - the modern-day, institutional historical profession, despite many developments, is still in many ways complicit. Witness the industry of self-congratulatory, patriotic histories that any American bookstore’s shelves groan with, or the enthusiastic support given by some establishment historians (like Niall Ferguson) to the 2003 invasion of Iraq. Certainly, as the profession well, professionalized, in the twentieth century things changed. In recent decades, historians, like stout Cortez, have surveyed with eyes of varying nobility the oceans of thought derived from other disciplines (anthropology, sociology, cultural studies) and even, to an extent, non-Western perspectives. But there is so much more work to be done, and new horizons to explore.
What I like about this book is that it not only examines a period and a body of material from a detailed, expert point of view, but approaches history from a broad, philosophical, even religious perspective. Satia goes a long way back in setting the stage, referencing Herodotus, Thucydides, the Mahabharata, before arriving at the Enlightenment and thinkers like Leibniz and Kant. The immensely influential work of men like Thomas Macaulay, Thomas Carlyle, J.R. Seeley, and Lord Acton, emerging from the Enlightenment tradition, served to provide a sturdy foundation for the liberal imperialist narrative. That is, normal moral compunctions can be suppressed when faced with the violence and corruption inherent in Empire because history is the outworking of a greater Providence (personal or impersonal, depending on the historian’s religious beliefs). British civilization brought the benefits of political and economic progress to regions of the world that suffered under disorder and despotism. As long as it could be claimed that British rule was a moral, civilizing force, any number of punitive and expansionary actions could be justified. The emergence of Social Darwinism later in the nineteenth century provided a new, additional slant. For example, famines in south Asia from 1874 onward killed millions due to the government’s laissez-faire attitude (notably, this was identified and criticized by Alfred Russell Wallace, co-discoverer with Darwin of biological evolution!), but they could safely be categorized as the result of natural forces beyond human control. The use of machine guns and aerial bombing on indigenous populations could be sanitized by characterizing them as inherently violent and superstitious people who could only be governed by violence. As abhorrent as these arguments might seem, the old assumptions and arguments are present today - maybe diluted or given varying veneers of sophistication, but they are there.
Surprising figures make appearances. In particular, Satia uses her own earlier work on Joseph Priestley and the Quaker arms manufacturer Samuel Galton (ancestor of Francis, whose eugenic ideas also appear later) to show how consciences were forged and assuaged as the Empire expanded and faced moral challenges - from slavery, rebellions (the 1857 Indian Mutiny being most significant), and natural disasters. The romantic poets, in particular Lord Byron, infused the imperial mission with a desire to liberate and redeem suffering foreign peoples. Hannah Arendt, one of the great critics of totalitarianism, gave the British Empire something of a pass. After all, it was one of the key victors over fascism, and accorded its subjects at least a bare minimum of human rights. I found most educational Satia’s discussion of orientalism, and her treatment of south Asian anti-colonialists like Mohamed Iqbal, Rabindrinath Tagore, and Gandhi.
I also enjoyed Satia’s discussions of Brexit, which are both wry (comparing it with the Partition of India) and deeply serious and relevant. She notes that in a sense Brexit is a misguided attempt to return to an era of glorious imperial achievement. The UK’s unwillingness to return artworks looted in the colonial era reflects an unwillingness to morally reckon with the empire and its crimes. Most “Westerners” (inaccurate but useful) still believe the political and economic “progress” bestowed upon imperial subjects was worth the crimes committed against them. A similar argument is still used in the United States when considering slavery and the possibility of tangible and real recompense. Imagine a world where real healing from the ghosts of history was possible.
Satia deals well with the commonly-heard and fallacious “pros and cons” argument: without imperial and colonial crimes, people in developing countries wouldn’t have railways, industrial development, iphones, whatever. First, it presupposes that these kinds of things can be totted up in a ledger, as if at the end of the financial year. Secondly, counterfactuals are inherently dubious (if fun to think about in a speculative fiction context - I’d recommend Kim Stanley Robinson’s The Years of Rice and Salt here). Finally, it’s unclear whether the marks of “progress” are really that beneficial for formerly subjugated peoples. Ultimately, for example, “improvements” in British India were designed to benefit the British economy, British security, and to prop up the British colonial government. I’d wonder also if they are that beneficial on an absolute level, given industrial civilization has brought us to the brink of environmental apocalypse. In her particularly wide-ranging and passionate final chapter, Satia considers “The Past and Future of History”, concluding that we “might tell new, more encompassing, more chaotic stories that will return us to the fullness of time.”
Herbert Butterfield might have approved. His short book The Whig Interpretation of History (originally published in 1931) was an earlier attack on the liberal, triumphalist historical tradition of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.* Whig history, in short, was the idea that the central theme of British history was progress, dividing individuals and events into those that furthered it, and those that merely were hindrances to be avoided or defeated. The problem with this approach - based on an understanding of divine Providence, or historical destiny - is that it does a disservice both to historical heroes - in that it gives them a sort of ahistorical (or unhistorical) foreknowledge of their place in the grand conception - and villains, in that it denies them a historical understanding of their own motivations. It is worth noting that Butterfield was a devout Christian, and he had his own ideas about divine Providence in history - but in his writing it was more ironic, in a manner more recognizable today. It manifested itself more in unintended consequences, surprises and contingencies. I see Satia’s work as a much broader and deeper update of Butterfield for the Anthropocene.
This review cannot do justice to the many insights of this important book. If you’re seriously interested in history, I unreservedly recommend reading it. This is a challenging read, not “popular” history - but it is aimed at a wider audience than professional historians.
*Side note: from about the end of the seventeenth century through the mid-nineteenth, the Whigs were one of the two great British political parties (the other being the Tories). The Whigs were (broadly) pro-constitutional monarchy and pro-parliament, (later) anti-slavery and pro-Catholic Emancipation, pro-free trade, and somewhat more recognizably “liberal” in the modern sense.