Monday, June 1, 2020

Џефри Неш: ИМПЕРИЈАЛИЗМОТ КАКО ТУРИЗАМ


ПАТУВАЊЕТО КАКО ИМПЕРИЈАЛНА СТРАТЕГИЈА
Џорџ Натаниел Курзон оди на Исток 1887-1894

4.
Travel as Imperial Strategy:
LORD CURZON AND BRITAIN’S EMPIRE IN THE EAST

The power that designedly fosters its own weakness, ultimately perishes of the atrophy thus engendered
Curzon, Persia and the Persian Question

Lords Cromer, Milner and Curzon might have been active in a different theatres of the British empire but the very fact of their collective designation as Britain’s imperial Edwardian proconsuls suggests commonalities. Like Cromer, Milner started off as a Liberal with concern for social issues, but coming of a later generation, he merged these into the new radical imperialism of the final decades of the ninetieth century. We have seen how England in Egypt and Modern Egypt share a common discourse; Milner’s book, helping to popularize British imperialism in that country, paved the way for Cromer’s summative statement of the case. Neither of these texts can be said to function within the specific genre of travel literature. (However, the three volumes in Blunt’s anti-imperialist ‘Secret history’ series – English occupation of Egypt, India under Ripon, and Gordon at Khartoum – are constructed around an English gentleman’s diary entries, many of them records of personal travel.) If, like Milner’s Curzon’s early writings promote empire as a project of ‘romance’, they do so within an individualized experience specifically enhanced by the travel frame. With Curzon, travel becomes central to exposition of the imperialist message. And just as imperialist literature on Egypt coheres around the achievement and ideas of Cromers, a cognate literature on Persia, the Persian Gulf and Afghanistan arose around the boundaries and strategic assumptions proposed by Curzon in Russia in Central Asia (1889) and Persia and Persian Question (1892). This body of writing was enlarged by the pens of acolytes who came from the generation nurtured in the new imperialism. They include figures like Percy Cox and A. T. Wilson. Cox partly owed his promotion to Curzon, and Wilson in turned owed his to Cox. Both men engaged in travel, but like their master’s, this was travel for a purpose: mapping out the terrain in which Britain’s imperial interests interfaced with the perceived threats of competitors. Reference will also be made to political journalism of the early 1900s, which took as its point of departure Curzon’s portrayal of the decrepit Persian State and the ‘weak’ and ‘cowardly’ ‘Persian character’.
This chapter therefore, has the purpose of articulating a ‘Curzonian’ school of imperialist travel writing, and linking it with the wider discourse of Orientalism. Here Edward Said’s analysis remains a great value, and an attempt will be made to apply it to the context of Curzon’s travel writings. Indeed, Curzon advances statements that amount almost to a transparent stereotype of Orientalism. He accomplished this by proposing a travel theory of his own in which he divided the purposes of his travel into two. The motivation for the first was political, and entailed surveying the scope of British interests in the East. The second predicated personal enjoyment of the eastern scene – a category later comprehended by Said in the term aesthetic Orientalism. Alongside contemporaries Balfour and Cromer, Curzon certainly seems to fit within the bloc of imperial patronage that sought to inscribe the East within the construct of western knowledge/power which Said termed Orientalism. As enunciations of an aesthetic of travel, or codifications of imperial administration, it might be argued that Curzon’s writings rarely digress from Foucault’s equation of knowledge and power. Curzon’s emphasis is on a unchanging but unstable Orient, which could be considered exactly what Said had in mind when he defined Orientalism as ‘a static system of “synchronic essentialism”’. Curzon and Cromer thought the stagnation of eastern polities like Egypt and Persia was such, as to warrant European governance and control. Both were Islamic nations, and Islam contributed to their decay and general hopelessness. Cromer, Curzon and their allies and supporters, also established the code of the childish, irrational oriental, incapable of governing himself and therefore apt subject for European tutelage, which was essential if the eastern society was to progress. Of course, it was distinctly preferable for such governance to be British.
However, while Curzon’s travel writings readily yield themselves to Orientalist analysis, his own individual qualities also emerge within his aesthetic Orientalism, in particular a romantic a romantic historicism and sense of occasion which fed into the imperialistic aesthetic he developed during his period as Viceroy of India. There still remains the need to problematise the confidence of imperial mastery in Curzon’s Orientalism. This can be done by supplying the interior anxieties it seeks to cover by its political/racial logocentrism, particularly as these anxieties relate to the imperial rivalries of the ninetieth century. These operate within the political climate of late European imperialism in the East. Where Oriental stasis was judged beneficial to Britain’s imperial interests (that is, when characteristic of an area over which Britain exercised control) re-iteration of Muslim weakness both justified and supported her imperial provenance (Egypt). But if such weakness was deemed to jeopardize Britain’s imperial interests, as evidenced in area over which British power could not be exercised or maintained (Persia), it became a subject of anxiety. Imperialists strategies for British involvement in Islamic affairs therefore differed according to the degree of control, direct or indirect, Britain might be able to apply.

CURZON AND THE EAST
George Nathaniel Curzon came from a long line of Curzons who, in his own words, went ‘straight back to Norman who came over with the Conqueror’. Unlike most of his ancestors, who were ‘content to remain in possession of the same [Derbyshire] estate since twelfth century’, George Curzon was marked out for great things, amply fulfilling his prep school headmaster’s prophesy that he would ‘certainly be distinguished man in the best sense of term’. An outstanding career in Eton was followed by five years at Balliol College, Oxford, the ‘kindergarten for aspiring politicians and diplomats’, attended by future Prime Minister H.H. Asquith, Foreign Secretary Edward Grey, and Alfred, later Lord Milner. The future Viceroy of India began his travels in the East as a young graduate, smarting from the humiliation of gaining only second class degree. In 1883 he set out for the Eastern Mediterranean with the aim of researching the Byzantine Emperor Justinian, the subject of one of Oxford’s hardest essays prizes. En route from Naples to Athens, he sat on his bunk writing his essay, in between paroxysms of sea sickness. Curzon left his party of Oxford friends in Greece, going on to Egypt, where he cruised the Nile, had an affair with exotic Englishwoman, but resolutely refused to enjoy the seductiveness of Cairo. From there, he proceeded to Palestine and Syria, where he ‘spent most of the time comparing the sites […] with the events associated with them in the Bible’ – much to the detriment of the former. This was to set a pattern for his subsequent travels in Persia and Central Asia (though not in India) where he continually came across ruins on or near sites celebrated for their former glories. Despite such disappointment, Curzon’s travels for a purpose had yielded a result: on his way home via Turkey and the Balkans, he read a copy of the The Times, announcing that his essay on Justinian, dispatched some weeks earlier, had won the Oxford prize. This vindication of the journey and by the text (for Curzon always read everything written on the target area by other authors ancient and modern, and then endeavoured to supersede them himself) was to set a precedent for his later books on Central Asia and Persia.
Between 1887 and 1894, Curzon made five journeys to the East, including two that took him around the world. His political aspirations were the main motive, the aim being to establish himself as the foremost expert on Asian affairs in so far as they impinged upon the British empire. But he also found the East captivating in a manner that served to accentuate his Orientalism. In 1886, Curzon crossed the Atlantic, traversed eastern Canada, the Mid-West, and sailed from San Francisco to Japan, returning via Hong Kong, Singapore and Ceylon. Calcutta, seat of an empire not far short of the entire size of Europe, furnished the climatic for his pride in British governance over the East.
His aesthetic pleasure was no less fulfilled by the Taj Mahal. In 1888 Curzon journeyed across Central Asia on the newly completed Trans Caspian Railway, from Uzun Ada on the Caspian, to Merv, Askabad, Bukhara and Samarkand, an then on horseback to Tashkent. The following year found him on the same railroad, this time crossing the Persian frontier into Khorassan, travelling from Meshed to Teheran, by post horse (the only means of transport through a terrain devoid of roads), south to Bushire, and down the Persian Gulf. His second round the world trip, in 1892, gave Curzon the opportunity to observe China, Japan, and Korea. In 1894, he made his last journey to East – to the Pamir in Afghanistan – prior to his appointment as Viceroy of India (1899). His later career on the Conservative front bench and in government (his last years spent as Foreign Secretary) precluded extensive travel outside Europe.
Curzon’s journeys a recorded in three works, each of which consist not only of travel writing, but copious historical research and political analysis on the East. Russia in Central Asia and Persia and the Persian Question, are both framed by a concern with Russia’s spreading power in the region, and the putative threat this posed to British India, while Problems of the Far East (1896) concentrates on Britain’s providential role in that area of the globe. This writings are in several key respects characteristic of Orientalism as delineated by Edward Said. The primary purpose of their publication was to establish for their author an acknowledged expertise on his subject – Asia/the Orient – so furthering a political career that would in turn be founded on a bedrock belief in British imperial dominance over large areas of the East. Curzon’s mastery of his oriental subjects was intended to facilitate his imminent participation in Britain’s political sway over the regions studied. The peoples of the East, with the exception of the Japanese, towards whom he is at best ambivalent, are presented as unchanging, picturesque, often corrupt, and general incapable of reforming themselves. This backwardness is both the object of the traveler’s censure, and on occasion, the source of his satisfaction. The ‘orientals’ having long forgotten their past, this is left to western traveler and scholar to reconstruct. European encroachment on and conquest over their lands is inevitable. The Turkomans of Central Asia, recently so brutally conquered by Russians, make willing imperial subjects, while the effete and cowardly Persians, steeped in the mire of centuries of ‘oriental’ decay, represent a conundrum to British imperial strategy given the importance of Persia within the ‘Great Game’.
If, in spite of his noble ancestry, there seemed, as Harold Nicholson reflected, to be something of the self-righteous high Victorian bourgeois in his attitude towards empire, it is true that Curzon was himself conscious of a personal trait that lent itself to ‘middle-class’ efficiency. On his travels around the outposts of the British empire, Curzon had expected first to find ‘good administration, good buildings and wharves, order and decorum’, but he was infinitely gratified to discover acquiescence in Britain’s providential rule. He attributed the success of the grandiose Durbar that he directed in Calcutta in 1903 ‘half in earnest, half in jest, [to] his “middle-class method”.’ Government House, the Viceroy’s residence in Calcutta, which he and his beautiful American wife Mary (nee Leiter) were to grace between 1899-1905, was an Adam Smith creation based on his family seat at Kedleston, Derbyshire.
Curzon’s career presaged great promise, but a combination of personal flows and misfortunes perhaps denied his gifts their full expression. Lacking personal tact, he was not always a good manager of men; his pre-occupation with detail often led him to shoulder absurd quantities of work that eventually broke his health. He attracted strong loyalties, but his closest friends and colleagues had a habit of knifing him into back. Curzon’s first brief spell in office was Salisbury’s second in the Foreign Ministry in 1891, but his carefully accumulated experience of eastern affairs won him the Indian viceroyalty at the relatively young age of forty. Even his appointment was contested by those who saw liabilities in his advocacy of a forward foreign policy in the East to counteract Russia. The imperial historian Ronald Hyam, believes ‘politically his royalty was disastrous’. Like Cromer, Curzon had no regard for the indigenous people other that as an imperial subject race. He ‘spoke of Indians in terms normally reserved for pet animals: at best they were “less than school-children”.’ The period in India cut the groove of his later political career. Erstwhile friends like the Secretary of State for India, John Brodrick, turned enemy; and ambitious adversaries like Lord Kitchener succeeded in bringing down the disingenuous Viceroy two years into his second term. Curzon returned to England to the political wilderness of the Liberal years under the highhanded Tory leadership of another one time friend Arthur Balfour, and was passed over as leader in 1911 when he latter resigned to be replaced by the Canadian Bonar Law. With the fall of Asquith in 1916, Curzon – who was this time accused of his own political maneuverings – should have been the natural choice for Foreign Secretary, but the dilettante Balfour again stood in his way. The post finally became his in 1919, and with the fall of Lloyd George in 1922, and the death of Bonar Law a year later, the scene was set at last for Curzon to accede to the highest office. But once again, personal enemies, in no less figure than King George V, and un-adventitious circumstances – by now it seemed anachronistic for a Prime Minister to lead a government from the Hose of Lords – conspired to frustrate arguably the ablest man in politics. Curzon left the Foreign Office after the Conservative defeat of December 1923, and died prematurely sixteen months later. His legacy in India – beyond the renovation of ancient monuments – was swept away by the growing indigenous opposition to imperial rule.

(Geoffrey Nash, University of London, обј. June 2001).


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