Four years in Upper Burma

We have seen how much there is to admire and to be proud of in the capacity and skill of our nation as the great ruling power in India. One cannot have dwelt in Upper Burma during the last few years without observing how sincerely our rulers have sought the welfare of the people, and how ably they have secured it. The liberty of the people, their freedom from oppression, the greater security for life and property all over the country, their general comfort and well-being, the introduction of a far better system of law and justice than ever they knew before, the development of the resources of the country, and the general prosperity that has ensued, are results well worth securing.

But the countenance given to the sale and consumption of intoxicants, and the growth of these vices under our rule, when we ought to be so well able to discourage and check them, are very grave defects; and it is this matter I propose in this and the following chapters to discuss. This is just now a question which is receiving much attention. It is not a case for heated controversy, or for calling ill names, but for calmly and dispassionately looking the facts in the face, and asking ourselves in the sight of God whether we are doing right, or whether there is not a more excellent way.

A special and peculiar interest surrounds this question, owing partly to the fact that the new province was so recently annexed, and our policy is not as yet finally fixed; partly to the delicate and anomalous position in which we, as a non-abstaining race, find ourselves, in governing a race whose religion definitely enjoins total abstinence from everything intoxicating, and who earnestly desire that prohibition be continued as the law of the land; and partly from the very disastrous effects which have been found to result from the policy we have been pursuing during the many years we have been ruling Lower Burma.

On our annexing Upper Burma in 1886, we found the fifth commandment of the Buddhist religion, “Thou shalt not take anything that intoxicates,” was the law of the land, the only law on the subject the Burmans had ever known. On this point I quote no less an authority than a despatch from the Government of India to the Secretary of State, dated October 1886, in which are certain “Instructions to Civil Officers,” and it is there stated that—

“Burmans of all classes, monks and laity, very strongly wish that drinking shops and the habit of drinking should be discouraged in Upper Burma. In the time of the late king traffic in liquor was altogether forbidden. No doubt there is some making and drinking of toddy, of rice beer, and even of spirits in Burman villages. But the sense of the better classes is against the practice. No revenue was ever raised by the late king from liquor, lest he should seem to be encouraging evil. And under the circumstances, it seems expedient to meet the wishes of the people by declining for the present to license drinking shops.”

It certainly did seem expedient, with the nation on its knees begging us not to inflict drinking shops upon them, to license no shops whatever; and that not only “for the present,” but to resolve never to allow any. If ever there was a case in this world for local option, which was overwhelmingly in favour of entire prohibition, surely it was there; and under such circumstances the introduction of licensed liquor shops, on any plea whatever, was entirely unjustifiable and uncalled for. But the document proceeds:—

“Where a real demand exists for liquor to be consumed by Europeans, Indians or Chinese, shops for the sale of spirits and of fermented liquors may be licensed.”

So it unfortunately comes to this, that because there are certain foreigners in the country with “a real demand” for liquor, the whole policy of the country is to be changed for their sakes, and an excitable, volatile people such as the Burmans, peculiarly liable to fall away through drink, are to be exposed to temptations in their streets, in the shape of licensed liquor shops, such as they never had before, and such as it is well known multitudes of them will be quite unable to resist. It is true there is a clause in the law making it a punishable offence for the holder of the licence to sell liquor to Burmans. But what avails such a clause? The shops are there with the liquor for sale; that is the one all-important and damaging fact; and as for that clause, it is in theory a glaring anomaly, and in practice simply a farce. Any Burman can get as much liquor as he wishes.

A recent Government report fully admits this, and shows the futility of such a lame attempt to shield the Burmans from the effects of the temptations furnished by the drinking taverns established in their midst.

“The licences for the sale of liquor and opium are intended for the convenience of the non-Burman population of Upper Burma, and the sale of either liquor (except tari) or opium to Burmans is prohibited by law. But there can be no doubt that the prohibition is in practice inoperative.”

Now observe how we have progressed with this business during the first few years of our rule. In Upper Burma, where, before we assumed the government, there never had been such a thing as a licensed liquor shop, and where drunkenness, when it did occur, was severely punished, there are now 175 licensed liquor shops, and Burmans are constantly under temptation to indulge. In Upper Burma, where there had always been every discouragement to the manufacture of liquor, there are now central distilleries established, under Government patronage and licence, for the wholesale manufacture of spirits, and one of these turns out, as the proprietor informed a friend of mine, 500 gallons a day.

Bad as Burmese rule was, corrupt, weak and worn out, and badly in want of funds, it never sunk so low as to derive any revenue by the sale of licences, but now the excise revenue from liquor and opium licences is advancing by leaps and bounds.

It looks as though liquor and opium under the British Government were rapidly tightening their hold of the country, and it is quite time England made up her mind what she is really going to do in the matter, and whether she can reconcile this state of things with her notions of duty to a subject race.

It is urged by the advocates of the present system that there was drinking before, even under Burmese rule. No doubt there was. With the materials all around in abundance in the products of the country, both for fermenting and distilling liquors, it is not to be supposed that alcohol was unknown. It was, however, a very uncommon thing amongst Burmans to drink, and it can afford no possible justification for licensing and thereby increasing the evil.

It is also urged that it is impossible to do away with drinking entirely. “Prohibit it altogether,” say they, “and it will still go on secretly.” There scarcely could be a poorer plea than this. How many evils and crimes and vices there are in every country that cannot be entirely done away with, and yet no one in his senses would propose to license and regulate them on that ground. Our reply to this is that a Government can only do its best, and if, after we had done our best to discourage the drinking it still existed, despite all we could do, it would not be our fault. But if King Theebaw could do as much as he evidently did, with his worn-out methods of government, to keep his people sober, what might not we accomplish with the splendid machine of government we possess?

The last resort of the apologists for licensing intoxicants usually is that, good or bad, we are committed to the system, and cannot get rid of it without causing greater evils than what we now have. This is one of the arguments used with respect to India, but it fails altogether when applied to Burma, and has not a leg to stand on. We had every opportunity to have continued the law of prohibition just as we found it, and the people earnestly requested us to do so, and we ought to have done it. Even now it is not too late to retrace our steps in that direction, for the present state of things is felt to be unsatisfactory, and the law cannot be carried out.

Why cannot we end it by prohibiting the manufacture and sale of liquor throughout the country? If it be said that this would bear hardly upon the foreign residents, it may well be replied that the rights and liberties of foreigners ought not to prejudice those of the vast majority, the natives of the country; and if that were the law, and foreigners did not choose to put up with it, they would have their remedy. No one is compelled to live in Burma.

The pity is, that England should so lag behind in the matter of temperance reform. The Empire is inevitably increasing, yet England, by continuing to cling to liquor as she does, fails in this respect to fit herself for properly carrying out her duty amongst the abstaining races that come within the sphere of our influence.

The day is coming, as every one can see, when England’s own liquor question must be effectually dealt with, for the mind of the majority of the English people is rapidly ripening for it. But in the meantime, the very painful, anomalous and inconsistent position we occupy in Upper Burma—a Christian nation establishing liquor shops in every centre of population, against the strongly expressed wishes of “all classes of Burmans, monks and laity”—is a humiliating proof of the need there is for this reform to be hastened at home, so that it may be faithfully carried out abroad, and that too before it is too late.