New Delhi, Dec 28 (NationPress) The British rule in India was founded on a significant deception: the claim that foreign control was for the benefit and happiness of the local populace. The East India Company (EIC), a large trading entity that evolved into a governing power, incessantly claimed to have established "courts of justice" and created "new and valuable property" for the local people, asserting that it had replaced a tumultuous, unstable past.

However, this façade of goodwill barely masked a regime burdened by massive debt, upheld through military might and psychological manipulation, and designed to systematically extract the wealth of the subjugated territory.

By 1813, as the EIC’s charter was nearing renewal, a heated internal discussion erupted in Britain: should India be opened to Christian missionaries? From India's viewpoint, this discourse revealed the deep-seated hypocrisy at the core of British governance: the officials, who professed to bring enlightenment and justice, actively stifled the very spiritual and intellectual freedom that the petitioners sought to provide.

The debate surrounding missionary access was not a matter of faith; it was about power, control, and the inherent fragility of a regime that thrived because its 60 million subjects were kept unaware of the "peculiar tenure" under which they were ruled by just one million Britons.

The Silenced Voice: A Conspiracy of Silence

Before delving into the specific request for Christian dissemination, it’s crucial to understand the absolute control the EIC wielded over all forms of intellectual and political dialogue in India. The British recognized that stability depended on "moral influence and, to a great extent, prejudice". To maintain this precarious equilibrium, they enacted a stringent system of censorship that left the Indian press "perfectly fettered".

The regulations mandated that newspapers obtain the "sanction of the secretary of the government" before publication, under the threat of "immediate embarkation for Europe". The justification for this severe measure was openly debated in Parliament: the authorities feared publications that could challenge native religions and customs, potentially inciting "irritation and hostility". Most importantly, they worried that uncensored information would unveil the truth, informing the natives "of the peculiar tenure by which the British government held their power".

Critics of this policy, including Sir Thomas Turton, articulated the stark reality of this tyranny: "Nothing could be more dangerous than freedom of discussion under a government founded upon blood and supported by injustice". He highlighted the absurdity of discussing press liberty in India, where the government was "not inferior to that of... Tunis or Algiers". Another critic, Mr. Whitbread, pointed out that the ultimate goal was to keep the Indian populace "in darkness as to the nature of their government".

This climate of intellectual suppression—a regime that had seized authority through "conquest, by compact, and by forfeiture" (and possibly "fraud")—created the ideal environment to stifle any unwelcome ideas, including Christianity, if such ideas jeopardized the political status quo. The denial of the "light of the Gospel", as one observer noted, was a tactic to "support a political despotism".

The Petition of Contempt: Alarming Ignorance

It was against this backdrop of political fear and intellectual restraint that the Society in Scotland for Propagating Christian Knowledge (SSPCK) presented its influential petition to the House of Commons on February 19, 1813.

The petition had a dual purpose: it sought parliamentary provision in the Charter renewal to enable the Society to offer the benefits of Christianity to the Indian populace and concurrently to provide religious worship and instruction to Scottish members of the Church of Scotland residing in that segment of the British Empire.

The urgency of their mission was justified by a severe moral indictment of the Indian populace. The SSPCK asserted that the native inhabitants "have long been and still continue in a state of deplorable ignorance". They further claimed that the people were "addicted to various idolatrous and superstitious usages of the most degrading and horrible description".

This characterization—in reality—was not an act of humanitarian concern but rather profound colonial arrogance. It was an imperial judgment levied against a civilization that had established intricate political systems, profound philosophical traditions, and successful industries long before the EIC arrived. The allegation of "deplorable ignorance" was particularly offensive coming from a nation whose own grip on India relied on keeping the native population unaware of their political status.

The petitioners also underscored the challenges faced by Scottish members themselves. Although official policy proclaimed that "perfect toleration" existed in India, the EIC’s licensing system ensured that members of the Church of Scotland, who were working in civil and military sectors, were "precluded from enjoying the ordinances of Christianity agreeably to the forms of the Church to which they are attached". This exclusion occurred because the EIC was "not in the habit of granting" licenses to clergy outside of the established Anglican Church, illustrating that even British nationals were denied religious freedom if they belonged to a non-Anglican denomination.

The Irony of Moral Superiority

The Scottish Society's enthusiasm to amend India's "idolatrous and superstitious usages" starkly contrasted the actual moral landscape fostered by the British administration itself. The records indicate that the EIC governance had led to an "increase of crime, enormous" and extensive depravity.

1. Justice Denied: Despite the Company’s claims of delivering justice, the judicial system was effectively inaccessible for many. Civil justice was "virtually denied to suitors" due to exorbitant fees and stamped paper requirements, sometimes amounting to 50 down to 7 and 6 percent on the amounts claimed. The overall cost of administering justice was even claimed to be higher in British India than in all of Europe.

2. Economic Ruin: The system enforced by the British constituted a "systematically engineered process of colonial underdevelopment". Exploitative land revenue policies resulted in "agrarian stagnation, the rise of absentee landlordism, and peasant misery". Peasants were trapped in debt and coerced by high, arbitrarily fixed tax rates even during crop failures. This intentional economic devastation embodied the true "deplorable ignorance" regarding how to govern justly.

3. Moral Hypocrisy of War: The British policy itself permitted acts of brutality that contradicted any claims of moral superiority. The execution of the Killedar of Talnier fort after his surrender, an act deemed questionable by European standards of justice even in war, showed that the British military system could disregard "principles of justice and humanity" when it suited their interests.

In this context, the argument that India required salvation from its own religious practices seems hollow. The British government, while censoring religious tracts that criticized native religion to prevent "tumultuous proceedings", was simultaneously financing its territorial acquisitions by incurring enormous debts, amounting to around £26 million by 1813, primarily from military activities. The perceived necessity to protect "native customs" was merely a tactic to preserve the fragile financial and military foundation of their rule.

The Trade-Off: Commerce Over Conversion

The central issue obstructing unrestricted missionary activity was the EIC’s commercial monopoly itself, which was set to be renewed in 1814. The EIC feared that extensive European engagement, particularly under the pretense of religious instruction, would destabilize the lucrative trade, especially the crucial commerce with China.

The policy of limiting religious influence was directly comparable to the EIC's efforts to suppress India's economic potential. The resistance to utilizing Indian-built ships, which leveraged India’s "great natural advantages" such as durable teak wood, primarily aimed to safeguard the British shipbuilding industry and British sailors. Preventing the use of Indian vessels and crews was an act of "injustice and oppression" that robbed India of the benefits of its industry.

The EIC contended that unrestricted importation from India would jeopardize "any pledge on their part for the good government of India". This indicated that the continuation of the colonial system—military control, revenue extraction, and commercial privilege—was paramount. The government prudently decided to refrain from overtly advancing Christianity, lest they be perceived as "attempting to impose upon them a new religion".

The resistance was thus purely pragmatic. The introduction of Christianity was seen as a potential catalyst that could "unhinge the whole frame of Indian society"—a structure meticulously crafted upon military dominance and economic subjugation.

Conclusion: The Despot's Dilemma

The discourse regarding obstacles to Christian missionary efforts in 1813 reveals a government ensnared in a dreadful predicament of its own construction. Having secured political and territorial authority through means critics described as founded on "blood and... injustice", the East India Company could only uphold its rule by suppressing two crucial elements: the freedom of political expression (via the "perfectly fettered" press) and the freedom of religious propagation.

The irony is striking: The EIC defended its presence by claiming to alleviate the "deplorable ignorance" of the native populace. Yet, Parliament was informed that granting the people access to even basic legal proceedings was perilous, and that spreading Christian enlightenment was dangerous, as it might lead to "tumultuous proceedings".

Ultimately, the true source of the "impediment" was not the hostility of the native populace, but the intrinsic instability of the colonial administration. By restricting the clergy and stifling Christian outreach, the British were striving to prevent any intellectual or moral force from exposing the raw nerve of their dominion. They prioritized political survival over spiritual outreach, military security over perceived moral consistency. The door to “spiritual and intellectual freedom” remained bolted, guarded not by religious conviction, but by an overwhelming, practical fear of imperial collapse.

(The Author is a researcher specializing in Indian history and contemporary geopolitical affairs)