Four years in Upper Burma

It has already been stated that Upper Burma, at the time of the annexation, and for some time after, was politically and socially in a state of serious disturbance and disorder. It may be well to inquire a little more closely into this matter, that we may the better understand the circumstances of the country as we found it, and the better appreciate what has been done by way of remedy.

A state of disturbance was, under the circumstances, inevitable. An invasion, followed by an annexation, is seldom a very quiet and peaceable process, and this was no exception. But in this case there were features that greatly complicated the matter, and made the task of pacifying and governing much harder. When the expedition under General Prendergast went up the Irrawaddy at the close of 1885 it was an easy victory, and there was no resistance worth mentioning. Mandalay, the capital, yielded without a blow. This easy conquest proved the inefficiency of the Burmans as a Government, and led to the belief that very little trouble would be experienced in governing the country. But this proved to be by no means the case. For four years it has been one constant and strenuous battle with the forces of disorder; and whatever has been done in the way of pacification and improvement of the country has been done in the teeth of difficulties of no ordinary character.

If the question be asked how it was that the country was so easy to conquer yet so difficult to pacify and restore to order, the answer is not far to seek. In the first place, the weaker a Government is the stronger are the elements of crime and disorder lurking about, and having overthrown the one you still have to reckon with the other. King Theebaw’s was a weak Government, and crime and disorder had increased so much that their reduction had become a formidable task.

The territory over which King Theebaw ruled, or professed to rule, was of immense extent, and very sparsely populated, and the vast tracts of jungle with hilly, broken country afforded ample cover for the numerous bands of dacoits. Dacoity is the word used in India for gang robbery, and it is usually accompanied with murder and various forms of cruelty. It had always flourished in Upper Burma, and was unfortunately regarded not as a cruel, brutal and detestable crime, to be put down by the united efforts of the government and the people, but more as an acknowledged and unavoidable institution.

We may find some parallels to this in brigandage in Southern Europe, in the Border warfare so well described by Sir Walter Scott, and in the state of things prevailing formerly in the West of England, as set forth in Lorna Doone. The dacoit leaders were a kind of privileged freebooters, who spared those who paid blackmail, and wreaked their vengeance on others, and there was, in the opinion of the people, some air of romance about the life. No Burmese Government had ever been strong enough or resolute enough effectually to stamp out this plague. When the English took the reins of government at the annexation, this naturally gave a fresh impulse to dacoity under the notion of patriotism; and for some time the leaders who had large gangs occasionally tried conclusions with the small columns of police and military sent out to patrol the country.

The Government official report of affairs in Upper Burma gives the following summary of the first year’s work of pacification, viz., up to the end of 1886.

“The pacification of the country has been a prolonged work of much difficulty. Dacoity on the largest scale has been rampant; and military operations have been necessary in almost every part of the country in order to suppress it. To the end of the year 1886 about 180 encounters had taken place with these lawless bands. They seldom offered serious resistance, except when fighting in bush or jungle. The loss they caused to the British troops between November 17th, 1885, and October 31st, 1886, amounted to 11 officers and 80 men, killed or died from wounds. But greater difficulties than the armed opposition were found in the dense jungle, the want of roads, and the unfavourable, in some cases deadly, climate. The result of these difficulties during the period above mentioned was a total loss of 3,053 officers and men, who died from disease or had to be invalided. The average number of troops employed in Upper Burma during 1886 has been 14,000, but at the end of 1886 the number in the country was 25,000.”

So deep-rooted is the habit of dacoity in Burma that it easily breaks out afresh whenever disorder spreads, or whenever any daring fellow thinks fit to try his luck as a boh or leader. The people are easily deluded with his boast and swagger; and having implicit faith in the special tattooing and charms which are warranted to render them bullet and sword proof, they readily follow his standard. Hundreds of bohs have had their day during the last five years, and pursued a successful course of robbery, murder and rebellion for months together, eluding the police and the military. But owing to the tenacity of purpose, and the inexhaustible resources of the British Government, they have to succumb in the end. Many have been killed or taken prisoners in engagements fought; others treacherously murdered by their own followers, to get the reward set on the head of the notorious outlaw; others, after months of a hunted life in the jungles, have come in and surrendered. There has been always ample opportunity given by the British for those who wished to abandon that bad way of life to do so, and more than once a free pardon has been offered to all those who might give themselves up, provided that they had not been guilty of murder. Many, from time to time, have availed themselves of that arrangement.

Several princes—in Burma princes are fairly plentiful, notwithstanding that so many were massacred by order of King Theebaw—have tried their hands at it, with vague ideas of getting the mastery of the country in due time. One, known by the title of the Sekkya Prince, established himself in the hill country about Kyaukse, only thirty miles from Mandalay, and as late as 1889 gave an immense amount of trouble, setting the military police at defiance for months, and committing many murders and depredations. He had an armed following of several hundreds, and several fights took place between them and the police. Though the dacoits were each time defeated and scattered, the ground was so difficult for pursuit, that they could never catch the leader. At length he was taken in the Shan States, brought to Kyaukse, tried, convicted and hanged. This is a specimen of the kind of guerilla warfare going on in every district all over the country at that time.

Another matter, which still further complicated the situation and gave strength to the forces of disorder, was the sanction which dacoity had received through the corruption of those high in office in the Burman Government before we took it over. A British civil officer of high rank, the commissioner of a division, writes as follows, as late as the middle of 1889, more than three years after the annexation:—

“The task of reducing my own division to order I find a gigantic one. The Burman nature is simply saturated with lawlessness, and it takes the form of dacoity. Since King Mindohn’s death [i.e., from the accession of King Theebaw in 1878] it is a fact that most of the official classes in Upper Burma made large incomes by dacoity. Men high in office in Mandalay actually kept dacoit bohs, and shared with them loot, or the subsidies which were paid by the villagers for protection from other dacoits. The dacoit bohs were actually the governors, and paid some of the mingyees [ministers of state] in Mandalay regular sums, on condition of being let alone! Each boh had a large immediate gang or body of men around him, and a militia at any time available from the villages. We have had to break up this system of boh government all over Upper Burma, a system which had been running for the last ten years. The villagers themselves have become so accustomed to the government by dacoit chiefs, that they are actually afraid and even unwilling to help in getting rid of them. It will be admitted that difficulties like these are enormous; sometimes they seem to be insuperable, and one is often inclined to despair. We have not only to deal with the thousands of lawless ones who think we are encroaching upon their rights, but we have to try and educate the people to believe that these dacoits are not their rulers, and are not to be so. The villagers do not yet realise this, and it is this process of education, slow and painful, that impedes us so terribly in the work of subjugation and pacification. But the progress made has been very great.”

The following is given as a specimen of the encounters which for the first two or three years were of constant occurrence. This affair was perhaps exceptional in the amount of resistance offered, but in other respects quite usual and ordinary. It is quoted from a newspaper dated May 1888:—

“On the night of the 21st inst. 400 dacoits, principally Shans, with people from Mogaung district, under the leadership of Boh Ti, took up a position outside Mogaung. Lieutenant O’Donnell, Battalion Commandant, and Lieutenant Elliot, Assistant Commissioner, with 75 Goorkha military police, patrolled outside the fort the whole night. At 4 A.M. they attacked the dacoits, who held a strong position in a series of pagodas, which they had fortified during the night. The dacoits tenaciously held the position, and the consequence was that a fierce contest ensued, each pagoda being taken in succession. The last pagoda, when taken, was found to be choked with dead. The Goorkha police behaved splendidly. Our casualties were 8 killed and 15 wounded, while 49 dead dacoits were counted, and over 100 were reported as wounded, most of whom escaped. The struggle at the last pagoda was hand to hand over a four-foot wall, and bayonets and spears were used. It was here that 6 out of the 8 police killed fell.”

The mention of these fights deserves a place in any record of those times, for it was through this hard, rough police and military work—this continuous pounding at the mass of crime and lawlessness that would not yield to gentler measures—that the land now enjoys peace and quiet throughout its length and breadth. There was manifestly no other way of quelling the disorders and curing the miseries under which the country groaned.

This was a specimen of the fighting of our Indian military police; now for a specimen of that of our English soldiers, who also were incessantly employed in patrolling the country, and often met with dacoit bands. The instance given here does not by any means stand alone; similar affairs often occurred at that time. It illustrates the courage and dash our men have shown throughout this very laborious and difficult campaign. Often called to go out in very small parties, they usually carried the day against all odds; and even when, as in this instance, they met with such an unusual number of casualties as to debar them from getting the victory, their coolness and presence of mind have staved off defeat and disaster, and enabled them to get through so well that the reverse was, considering the circumstances, as creditable as a victory would have been.

“On January 14th, 1889, information reached Lieutenant Nugent, in charge of a small force of the Hants Regiment, that the advanced guard of a certain rebel prince was stockaded in a village ten miles away. He at once decided to attack. He marched out with Sergeant Bevis and 15 privates, preceded by some of the troops, such as they were, of the Sawbwa of Momeit. On turning the corner of a jungle path, their stockade was observed with the gate shut, and white flags (emblematic of royalty) flying at the gate. The dacoits, on seeing our men, at once began to blow horns and beat tomtoms. Our Burmese auxiliaries at once made off, firing their weapons in the air. Nevertheless Lieutenant Nugent and the 16 Englishmen promptly charged the stockade, 16 against 200! When about thirty yards from the stockade the dacoits delivered such a heavy and well-directed volley that 8 out of the 16 were hit. Private Roberts was killed on the spot, and Lieutenant Nugent himself was wounded. Seeing that himself and half his party were disabled, and further assault was out of the question, Nugent gave the order to get the wounded from under fire and retire. It is at this point that the soldierly qualities of these men specially appear. The few men who were able had meanwhile got under cover of a slight inequality in the ground, and were keeping up a fire on the stockade. While himself assisting Private James, who was dangerously wounded, Lieutenant Nugent was again struck a little below the left breast, this time mortally.

“Sergeant Bevis now took the command, and rallied his small party round their fallen officer, and seeing that the dacoits, now emboldened by observing the small number opposed to them, were coming out at the gate, he ordered his men to fire a volley. This caused the enemy to retire inside the stockade, and our party was molested no more. Stretchers were improvised with rifles and bamboos for Lieutenant Nugent and Private James, the other wounded managing to walk. The party made a halt at the village which they had passed marching out; and here the gallant Nugent breathed his last. By dint of much pressure and promises of reward Sergeant Bevis obtained assistance from the Sawbwa’s troops to carry the body and the bad cases to Momeit.”

Sergeant Bevis was much commended for his good management. He was promoted at once, and received the decoration of the Distinguished Service Order. Five days after a small force of Hampshire men and military police surprised and carried the stockade.

Many were the deeds of valour in this long and trying campaign. A considerable number of badges of the Distinguished Service Order were awarded, and of the highest decoration for gallantry in the field that military men can aspire to, the Victoria Cross, no less than three were given.

After what has been said about the Burmese ministers of the Crown, it will be no matter of surprise that the honest attempt of the British Government to utilise the local knowledge and experience of the Hloot Daw or supreme council of the king, as the medium of government, should entirely break down. As might have been expected, those worthies were found to be worse than useless at such a crisis. The kind of government they had been accustomed to administer was just the kind that was not wanted. They were therefore pensioned off, the pension acting in a twofold manner, as a substantial compensation for loss of office, and as a guarantee of their loyalty; they had something to lose.

During the first year or two of the British occupation there was need for very special vigilance to prevent the carrying out of plots of insurrection, especially in Mandalay. It was of course childish to think they could dislodge the British power, but many of the people were slow to believe this, and foolish enough to listen to boasting proposals of this kind. However, such a good watch was kept, and the officials kept themselves so well informed, that all such attempts were nipped in the bud. Some idea of the magnitude of the work of pacification may be gathered from a paper published by the Chief Commissioner of Burma in 1889, from which it appears that no less than 363 dacoit bohs or leaders were either killed, or surrendered, or were taken prisoners between April 1887 and August 1889.

The British Government, whilst very stern in pursuing, arresting and punishing these notorious outlaws, made every concession towards mercy where it was possible. When a gang of dacoits was broken up, and the boh killed or taken, the men composing it were usually allowed to settle down in their villages, giving some sort of guarantee for their future good behaviour. As soon as it became safe to show any considerable leniency, the cases of all who had been sentenced to terms of penal servitude for participating in dacoity were carefully gone through by an experienced and able judicial commissioner, for the purpose of remitting the punishment wherever it could safely be done, particularly in cases where men had been led, during a time of anarchy and political excitement, to take part in crimes and acts of violence, from which, under ordinary circumstances, they would have abstained. The result was that 899 prisoners were set at liberty at once, and 450 more were promised their release in the following December if their conduct in jail continued good. Only the worst and most desperate offenders were kept in jail.

It is just possible that some readers, failing to realise the full force of all the circumstances, may be inclined to think that the information given in this chapter leans too much in the direction of admiration of the military deeds described, and is lacking in consideration for the case of the unfortunate men against whom these operations were directed. I feel that it would ill become me to do anything to fan the flame of the military spirit, for militarism is without doubt one of the great curses of this age, and I have had no such design in view. I have merely described what took place. If the reader feels inclined to admire any of the actions here described, I must give him notice that he does it entirely on his own responsibility.

It may occur to the reader that perhaps after all it was the spirit of patriotism that animated these Burmans. Were they not fighting for their country and their liberty, and doing their feeble best to cast out the invader? Doubtless there was in some cases something of this feeling in their minds, enough to give a colourable pretext to their conduct at the time. But there are considerations that go to show that if we are to make any allowance on this account it will have to be very little.

Dacoity existed and was rampant for years prior to our annexation of the country.

How is the motive of patriotism to be reconciled with the gross cruelty, and robbery, and murder which all the dacoit bands continually practised?

When so many hundreds of bohs were fighting, each for his own hand, which were we to recognise? And how many? Their claims to the mastery were mutually antagonistic.

I have already said that I decline to take the responsibility either of defending or of impeaching the action of England in the invasion of Upper Burma. It involves the great and wide question of Empire, which I leave to more competent hands. I content myself with giving the facts from the standpoint of an eyewitness, and enabling or assisting wiser men to settle the greater question. I take up the question at this point—England the de facto ruler. Somehow, rightfully or wrongfully, she is there, and has undertaken the government of the country. The country is in a flame with crime and disorder. What is she to do?

There have been times, even in our own country, when certain crimes of violence, such as garotting, and certain forms of murder, have spread so as to cause almost a panic, and have needed special measures both as to detection and punishment. We are far more liable to such things in India. Take, for instance, that strange phase of crime known as “thuggee,” which prevailed to a fearful extent years ago in India, and to which, in respect of each being an epidemic form of crime, dacoity in Burma has sometimes been compared. Thuggee was a thoroughly organised system of robbery and murder, carried out with great secrecy by an association of men banded together for the purpose, and who did it not by open assault but by stealthy approaches, and, strangest of all, with religious motives. The verdict of civilised society was that the extermination of the thugs was not only a justifiable thing to be done, but the solemn duty of the Government, notwithstanding the religious motives, and special officers of Government were deputed for that purpose, and the system was finally stamped out.

So with dacoity. If men will be brutal, will set all law, human and divine, at defiance, will make human life cheap and property unsafe, and keep the whole country in terror and confusion, to the detriment of all peace and progress, if, in short, they will come to no terms, but deliberately elect to assume the character of wild beasts preying on society, then all reasonable men will feel constrained sorrowfully to admit that a civilised Government has no alternative but to treat them as such, and hunt them down; always however remembering that, as it is in the divine, so in the human administration, justice should be tempered with mercy; and wherever there is room to hope for better things, the criminal should have another chance, a provision which our Government, as I have shown, has not neglected.